My life is good. It really is.
The thing about social media is that you tend to find yourself in a dither because “everyone else” is supposedly living the good life.
But … two things:
1. They’re actually being pretty honest about the things they’re struggling with (kids, cancer, etc.).
2. I’m the asshole posting pics of MY fabulous little life … because it IS.
So this week I was thrilled to have something to deposit into the ol’ account. And you would think that, with money in the bank, I’d feel better, yes? That rent time is coming up and I HAVE IT. Woo!
But no, not really. I found myself shaking as I made the deposit, partially hoping the checks clear and mostly hoping the money LASTS till the next batch arrives, whenever that may be.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt secure. It’s a total lack of faith; I know it. I guess I’ve just seen God forsake better people than me, and it’s very hard to assume He will bail out my ungrateful ass when His most-earnest followers have gone from rearing kids with disabilities to finding a tumor to getting a divorce — and that’s just ONE person.
Yeah, my life is small. But it’s mine and I really do love it.
Having the Uber Mega Super Dooper Ultra Heavy-Flow-Day houseguest-type person is a double-edged sword. I often swear that the only reason any grace is shown to me is because I have to live with Debbie Downer. I can never have a mood so good that it can’t completely fizzle within three minutes of being at home.
I love her — I do. I may want to go all Casey Anthony on her sometimes, but every once in a while I’ll be overcome with a wave of appreciation for something she says or does. And besides, I could have otherwise spent my living years with some dopey ass man whose every little word or action aggravates the shit out of me. So, in the lottery of life, I could have done far worse.
Anyway, I say all of this because of all the tragedy happening in the world in the past 24 hours. The bombing and then mass shooting OF CHILDREN in Norway. The shooting at a roller rink in Texas. The Russian riverboat that sank. The train crash in China. Even more deaths in Afghanistan. This alone accounts for, like 250 gone. At least.
That doesn’t even include Amy Winehouse’s passing, which is about the only thing dominating social media right now. Which is just a damn shame (the death, not the fact that people who know nothing about her are judging her), given that she had more talent at 27 — and got to do what she LOVED for a living — than the rest of us will experience in a lifetime.
So yeah, I haven’t been in the “wrong place at the wrong time.” I didn’t lose any of my life (or all of it) to addiction. I didn’t marry wrong or get saddled with kids I know I wouldn’t have been able to parent. I have my health and a fair portion of my sanity. Plus, I have what’s left of my youth. I’m not 60 and having an identity crisis — I’m still at a point where, if things suck, I can change them.
If Charlie Sheen can proclaim that he’s #winning and then go and get a new TV show, well damn then. At the very least, I can wake up every day and look forward to tomorrow, right?
O She of Little Faith, take a look around and appreciate it every day, mmmkay? Get that new laptop and take it to the Keys and never, ever look back. Other people have WAY BIGGER problems than you. Keep praying for them and keep thanking God for everything you have and, best of all, everything you DON’T.