Write It. Read It.

Day 136

You know I'm grateful for more than one thing every day, right? Some days there is a plethora to choose from. Other days, there is still plenty, but I have to look harder as I wade through my moods or tired mind to find them. My point in my 2010 Joy and Gratitude Every Day was to help me focus on the Lord's hand in my life, and to see His tender mercies all around me. Thus, on the happier days I would see them abounding, and on the not as happy days I would still see them--particularly as those were the days I most needed them. Just wanted to clarify that I'm not grateful for just one thing a day.

OK. That tangent out of the way, on to something else. The last 6 months have been such a change from the previous couple of years. The Lord has blessed me with an inner peace and happiness which cannot be touched--I haven't allowed that. Still, I have my tough times, as we all do. And I have had plenty of them in the last month. The last two weeks were the hardest.

I've had my reasons. While I would like to specifically talk about some things here, that would defeat my purpose in trying to focus more on the positive. I do need to talk about them, but I need to talk about them with someone who will be understanding about it while not being overly sympathetic. I need toughness with the tenderness. Sympathy but also guidance. Someone who will know how to handle me though it all (and that's no easy task!). Who can physically be there to wait out the possible periodical bursts of crying, or reach out in the times of silence when I either can't figure out what I'm trying to say, or just need...silence. To give me the hug(s) if I need it, to listen, and to help me get it all out.

Because there is nothing (right now, at least) that really needs to be solved. It just needs to be...out. Vented.

I am a Venter.

It doesn't have to be about something I'm angry over. Or something that annoys me either. It can just be having to talk out all of the stress that has built up over a day at work, or a storytime gone wrong, or the storytime gone exceptionally right, or the 35 things I did in a day to finish planning a program, or the printout that won't print out, or.... I have all these little things, and when I'm in a mood to talk, it really helps to talk these out. Either to laugh over them, or to analyze them, or to make my little "grr" and move on, or to hear a "you've done well--good job." But whatever to get them out. When I don't talk them out, they build. And build and build and build until there's so much inside and I can't help but cry profusely at inopportune moments and feel more exhausted and have every thing that wasn't wrong in the first place now feel wrong and all of it rolls together and I can't breathe and the teensiest things then do annoy my and I start to get angry--mostly with myself--and I get even more worked up than I had been and

*gasp*

I know. You should try being me for a week. You'd be grateful you're you! :-)

If I had someone to often and regularly turn to with that, I don't think (at least I hope) that I would get as built up inside. I wouldn't be at the point I am every weekend when the busy, stressful, no-time-to-think-or-breathe work week is done and I finally have time to let all the thoughts and feelings and everythings come back at me. The point where at times I feel I can not make it.

Yet I do make it. I have to find other, usually less efficient methods to vent. A good hard cry. That's the physical ventation. An edible treat to tell myself it's OK and please the stomach to distract the soul. It works. (Though that's the emotional eating that I'm trying to work on, but still....it's not completely out of control!) A good book or movie to curl up and remember sweet, silly things that then remind me of the silly things I've been stressing over.

But the main thing is, I make it. And sometimes, I document. I write when I'm upset. I write as the Lord and I are working through things. I write when a friend does come along to help. I write when I feel I'm getting nowhere. I write when I feel progress. I write. And then, like this evening, I read.

Therefore, I can see all of the many times that I have made it through. I testify to myself and of myself that the Lord and I made it before. I always make it. And I come to understand myself a little more. And I hopefully try to be a little better with the next trial or struggle that comes along.

And there it all is as proof, reminder, lesson, and renewed commitment in a written record--and I know (and begin to feel) that I am fine. Peace begins to return. Happiness, which was always there waiting for me to choose and hold on to it, comes back into my grasp once more.

P.S. I would like to mention that prayer is always a method of ventation. Always. Usually the first. Sometimes the only. Please don't think I forgot about the best method of all! But Heavenly Father knows His daughter. He knows the times I desire--possibly even need!--companionship. A friend physically there to help me through it all. To encircle me with their arms as the physical manifestation of the arms of His love. Well, what can one expect--physical touch is currently my primary love language. And my second? Quality time. Yep--sitting there with me, taking the time to talk with me, any thing that is time with me. It's what helps.