I don't like to feel sorry for myself. It's not something I spend time doing. It certainly never HELPS anything, but instead allows you to wallow in a place you shouldn't be. So I honestly try hard not to do it.
This morning, however, I am feeling sorry for myself. I am trying hard to battle this depression by getting out and doing things. I was all set, I mean ALL SET (makeup, earrings, pretty clothes on me and the girls) to get the big kids off to their rides to school, get Declan off to preschool and then take the girls to their "school" - really a Bible Study at our church where the girls go to a special program called Little Lambs. They have been begging to go to school so I can use this to my advantage.
I noticed that they were pretty clingy after getting dressed. I was carrying Macey, who was laying on my shoulder, and I leaned my cheek against her forehead. Hot. You guessed it - both girls have fevers. No Bible Study for us.
Sometimes I feel like "what's the point?". No, honestly, MOST days I feel like "what's the point?". I don't get what I'm supposed to be doing. I don't understand why things happen, for no apparent reason and certainly not to lift your spirits. I don't understand why we aren't given answers to what happens to us, as a way to process our feelings and move on. Instead, we just deal with them, over and over again.
Today, I am wallowing. Tomorrow will be much better. Until then, I'm going to have at least one chocolate chip frappe from McDonald's. Probably more.