Sometimes I get so caught up in all the things going wrong in my life and no matter how many times I stop and count my blessings, I just can't knock myself out of the funk.
My child is safe, my husband is healthy, there is a roof over my head with no fear of the heat or electricity getting turned off, there is a reliable car parked outside, I have cupboards full of food.
But I'm still so frustrated with apartment-living, overwhelming preparations for Christmas, the failed cookies, the missing USPS package, my aching body. But I don't think the root of all my stress is the holidays. I don't know what the root is.
I have a bad case of the mean reds, as Holly Golightly would say. Too much stress, too much anxiety. The anxiety is making my ocd the worst it's ever been. I don't like talking about it because it's not officially diagnosed since it's never prevented me from being a productive member of society (ie, I've held down a job, I have a clean, safe house, my daughter is clean and safe and loved, my husband has a home-cooked meal every night), plus it makes me feel like a freak.
I keep pausing to remind myself the holidays are about Christ and count my blessings. But it ain't doing much. This must be one of those blind faith things where I just have to keep plugging away at life everyday, praying, reading the Bible, doing the laundry, making cookies, and wrapping presents. Even if everything turns out shitty, if I just keep walking, eventually time will pass and I'll be out of the funk. Right?