Some Days I'm Okay

Some days I am fabulous. Some days I am okay. And some days I am neither fabulous nor okay. And that is okay.

I started the day fine, fabulous even, but this evening I am finishing up a tad less than okay. Twelve days behind me and I am itching like crazy. Perhaps there is an unknown requirement to have scratched absolutely every place on my body before the torture has passed. This evening I remarked how my arm pits hadn't been itchy yet... Well, we can check that off now too. I'm drinking Nettle Leaf Tea in the hope that it will relieve some of the discomfort. I slept last night without taking anything else. Of course I scratched vigorously during the night, but I slept too.

My car is unhappy. Tired and sluggish. I need to take her into the shop again... She doesn't like climbing hills or switching into the higher gear. I fear the mechanic's diagnosis and I haven't even called him yet. *sigh*

The back half of the garage roof is leaking. There was a discussion about roofing it when we did the rest of the house but it was thought unnecessary. Where do I find someone to roof half a garage? I can't even find someone to change out a sliding glass door... And how do I pay for it when I need to fix my car?

I am perfectly happy being single. Most of the time. This year has found me the most settled. It's been a really good year. Even with everything good and wonderful, the ache inside still surfaces and the wounds still bleed. Some days I still can't believe I actually moved out of the house I loved so much and away from the farm that was my home, that I left behind the boy I'd married, the father of our children and the man I loved in spite of the abuse...

One of Mom's favorite sayings was "God hates divorce." It was drilled into my heart and soul, deep into my very being. She never bothered to tell me that God hated abuse even more, or that abuse wasn't always broken bones and visible bruises. I saw mean, cruel, confusing, and even volatile. I saw a man who mistreated our children in order to control me, but nobody I asked for help saw. They saw a wife who needed to submit more, and pray more. They saw a husband who was being "undermined," not a family in peril. And my mom? Well there were some things she did try to tell me... "I always knew he was a predator type..." she'd said, and I thought she was referring to me as the prey. I didn't understand what she was saying and I held the telephone away from my ear... In the end I had to draw a line and it almost killed me in the process. On the outside I tried to smile, but on the inside I was a broken mess. 

There are still days I ache but the days of hope now far outnumber the achy, bleeding days. In another week or two the intense itching should dissipate and disappear, and I'll be free of my dependence on antihistamines. In the morning I'll call the mechanic and see if he has any advice. Eventually I'll find someone to help me slap some shingles on the back half of the garage. And, I'm going to keep loving the life I have, the one full of babies and little people, fantastic and inexpensive vacations, and little trips to the lake or woods with my camera. It's really a wonderful life.