a recent experience brought back memories, prodding me to ask myself just what does it take to be happy? or to be content? or at the most, be thankful?
when R's dad left several years ago, i was not only laden with debts and bills to pay. i was also a single mom who could barely make both ends meet. with lawyer's fees and a son in high school, i was in an awful lot of mess.
my employer graciously offered any assistance he could extend to me which i politely declined. i've lost almost everything i had -- the last i could hold on to was my self-respect and dignity. besides, i didn't want to be accelerated from an abandoned wife to a pathetic loser.
i had friends who listened, consoled, empathized and made me laugh and that was more than enough. i didn't want them feeling sorry for me. i was not dying anyway... i was merely going through life. but lying awake in bed every night, i desperately wished i had a sister.
while each waking morning became a struggle, each day end was an accomplishment. and the more i felt depressed, the more i focused my mind on work. i put up a brave front and exerted more effort to look and sound happy.
i've realized that when one hits rock bottom, blaming everyone around but myself while wallowing in pain and misery is the best thing i can do to keep me exactly where i was. no one else can take me out from the rut but myself so i slowly climbed out, learned new crafts, new recipes, redecorated the house, did sideline jobs during weekends and earned a degree along the way. when you are in the pit of depression, the most that friends and family can do is throw you a rope -- the climbing out part is something you have to do for yourself.
i never regretted having gone through all that. problems and experiences are not supposed to distort my morals or eat away my values. they came to mold and enhance my character, making me a better, humbler person with each blow.
friends and acquaintances describe me as strong... and i hope am. but i was not born that way. in fact, nobody is ever born that way. i used to be a weakling who thought of jumping over the bridge to get away from it all. it was my faith that gave me hope. after coming home from work, i would pass by the church and sit in the front pew fervently praying for strength and courage.
the strength comes after. after the tears... after the pain... after the forgiving... after the realization that i had to muster the courage to help myself if i wanted to survive.
happy? that is a choice only i can make. content? i always have been. thankful? every single day.
when R's dad left several years ago, i was not only laden with debts and bills to pay. i was also a single mom who could barely make both ends meet. with lawyer's fees and a son in high school, i was in an awful lot of mess.
my employer graciously offered any assistance he could extend to me which i politely declined. i've lost almost everything i had -- the last i could hold on to was my self-respect and dignity. besides, i didn't want to be accelerated from an abandoned wife to a pathetic loser.
i had friends who listened, consoled, empathized and made me laugh and that was more than enough. i didn't want them feeling sorry for me. i was not dying anyway... i was merely going through life. but lying awake in bed every night, i desperately wished i had a sister.
while each waking morning became a struggle, each day end was an accomplishment. and the more i felt depressed, the more i focused my mind on work. i put up a brave front and exerted more effort to look and sound happy.
i've realized that when one hits rock bottom, blaming everyone around but myself while wallowing in pain and misery is the best thing i can do to keep me exactly where i was. no one else can take me out from the rut but myself so i slowly climbed out, learned new crafts, new recipes, redecorated the house, did sideline jobs during weekends and earned a degree along the way. when you are in the pit of depression, the most that friends and family can do is throw you a rope -- the climbing out part is something you have to do for yourself.
i never regretted having gone through all that. problems and experiences are not supposed to distort my morals or eat away my values. they came to mold and enhance my character, making me a better, humbler person with each blow.
friends and acquaintances describe me as strong... and i hope am. but i was not born that way. in fact, nobody is ever born that way. i used to be a weakling who thought of jumping over the bridge to get away from it all. it was my faith that gave me hope. after coming home from work, i would pass by the church and sit in the front pew fervently praying for strength and courage.
the strength comes after. after the tears... after the pain... after the forgiving... after the realization that i had to muster the courage to help myself if i wanted to survive.
happy? that is a choice only i can make. content? i always have been. thankful? every single day.
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