I survived a week that tried to kill my faith in humanity-and I am here to tell you that most of it is all in the past. Past tense. Passed away. Goneo…
Everyone has a bad hair day, week or even month. But as I swung my legs over the bed and began the process of waking up this morning-I remembered. Cliché perhaps, but if He brings you to it, I am telling you, He will bring you through it. There have been times of utter tragedy and hopelessness-and I gauge my struggles by what I have conquered in the earlier years of my life. My mother’s death at 59. My anorexia. My attempt at suicide. The loss of my sister and her family. And the worst to date-the loss of my father-who meant the world and more to me. The way I look at things-pain can either break you or make you-and I am strong and stoic: at least until something little comes along and puts a crack in the veneer. My mother had this character trait: she remained brilliantly heroic through my father’s coma; my father’s affair; weeks where we had no money for groceries-and she had three kids to raise on her own-daddy travelled for a living. But God forbid she broke a nail, or spilled a cup of coffee-it was then that she cracked, and all hell broke loose.
Ah, as a child I thought her weak. As a grown woman I see her as a heroine in a steamy, often comical story. She had a great sense of humor, frankly, when there was no reason to laugh. Fabulous weaponry-I use it often. My brother, who is one year younger than I (Irish twins) is the funniest man I have ever met. His humor is Elkinsesque, and I say that with great love. If you grow up in a dysfunctional family unit, the way you see life depends on how your parents dealt with trauma, stress, worries. Just a bunch of comedians, that’s what we are. That way no one sees the crack in the veneer. We have no “tell” around others; that is until one of us walks into a patio door, or hits there head on the corner cupboard-that, my friends, is when we spontaneously combust into flames. Hysteria ensues, and I pity the inanimate objects and people who are left in the wake of our wrath.
And so it was that I had a nuclear meltdown on Friday afternoon.
Fuck. You. Fleas.
I ranted, I raved, I raised my fists at the heavens. Why? Why am I being tortured to the point of committing Hare Kari? I have treated my home for fleas each and every day since March. My poor dog has been treated with Frontline (what a joke), diatomaceous earth, pills, dog collars and allergy medication. The other day, my son’s girlfriend went to pet him: big poofs of dirt rose like clouds, she gasped:
“Oh, my goodness gracious, why is he so, umm, dusty?”
The look on her face was priceless. I explained about the diatomaceous dirt, and she nodded, as if I was speaking Taiwanese, or Kling On-the language that Sheldon invented.
No. She did not understand-how could she if I don’t? I vacuum ad nauseum, each and every day. I have natural flea spray, but my husband hyperventilates if I use it anywhere near him. I have flea powder-it works really well, for about ten minutes. I can’t bare to see my dog scratch-it runs right through me. I feel inept, inadequate, a bad doggy mom, bad human for that matter. We keep the air conditioning running, 24/7. All cats (13 outdoor, 3 indoor) have been treated. This happens almost every year, but the past two have been horrendous! And this is where my best friend comes in.
“Jesus, I refuse to pray ONE MORE PRAYER about the flea situation. Clearly, you either don’t care or aren’t listening. I’m done. Nothing against you, but why should I even bother?”
Inevitably, my attention is drawn to reality: cancer, the Deep State, missing children, a friend’s diagnoses. He shushes my fears and reminds me to pick up my cross, be a brave little soldier. He tells me that God answers prayers in His time-not ours. I am thusly humbled, and more times than not? I get down on my knees and beg His forgiveness.
It’s okay to be angry with God. If you’re angry with him, you believe in Him. He wants to hear your petitions. So, we are okay, Jesus and myself. Just aces.
Just as long as he never lets me down again. 🙂