Afraid of the Dark

I feel like Charlie Brown. It's Christmas, and I should be happy, but I'm not.

I tried to sort it all out in the car on the way home last night. 

Then all evening I tried not to let it bother me, but it just snowballed, and I didn't mean to, but I took it out on Mr. Ginley.

Then I felt worse.

So I got up this morning, determined to be happy. I thought I would read the paper for inspiration for my blog. I read a story about a pastor battling cancer and a drunk driving victim who's in a wheelchair struggling to keep up with his 1-year-old son.

Then I felt worse. How could I be feeling sad when others had so much more to be sad about? What a schmuck!

I'd thought about writing about Lillian Vernon, who passed away last week. With her family, she escaped Nazi Germany, came to America and founded an empire.

Then I felt worse. What have I accomplished? I go to work every day, slay dragons, come home, make dinner, and crash on the couch. I can't even keep my eyes open long enough to watch an hour-long dvd. Then I go to bed and work all night in my dreams.

So here I sit, caught in a continuous loop, feeling guilty because it's Christmas and I'm blue, feeling bad because others have it worse than I do, then beating myself up because I could be doing so much more than I am.

Deep breath. Cup of coffee. Do a little Reiki. Stretch. Stop comparing. Open the pressure valve. Count some blessings. Be kind. Forgive. Myself.

There, that's a little better.

I'm going to the cat shelter to work this morning. Engage in a little cat therapy. Then spend the day with my husband, who knows me so well and loves me anyhow.

Maybe I'll find a little merry here after all.