I’ve been quite the complainer lately. In fact, I was chatting with a lovely friend of mine who suffers from chronic illness and I realized that I was complaining about my pain to someone who experiences it daily. Sure, she was great to talk to because she had such amazing empathy, and when I became aware of what I was doing and apologized she told me not to, but it was a moment of awakening for me. On one hand, my greatest fear seemed to be coming true. I was becoming someone that I dislike, and I have to get ahold of what I’m doing and saying. The other, though, was that although this has been terrible it has not been the worst thing that has ever happened to me.
When I realized that I had been worse, emotionally felt more lost and raw but weathered it, I was so relieved. In a low moment, someone had pointed out to me that if this had happened just a couple of years ago I would have been in a completely different situation. With Husband having the job he had then and my emotional state being what it was at the time, I don’t know how we would have made it. I don’t know how I would have made it.
I don’t expect to become some sort of zen master of “it could be worse” or anything like that. I don’t think I’m going to be suddenly ok and calm and lose all of my anger because I know I’ve managed before. Still, knowing I’ve been through worse is a comfort I’m glad I have.