Moving and Stalled

I've had a rough time of it for the past few weeks.  I suppose it's evident in my lack of posting here; and I know I can feel it in the tension of my neck and head.  The kids haven't suffered from it.Work hasn't suffered from it either.  I guess those are the two most important vehicles I am driving these days, and it helps that I've had enough caffeine to stay on the road when I'm driving them.

My social life?  Pretty dismal.
My creativity? Equally dismal.
My sleep habits?  Horrid.
My attitude?  Cynical and glass-half-empty.

I went to church yesterday.  Said a heartfelt prayer.  For myself.  I never pray for myself.  I'd have to say that 90% of my prayers, since I was able to pray, have always been for others - world peace, fighting soldiers, friends having a rough time, grieving family members, the weary, the sick and the deceased.  I think the last time I prayed for myself was after I learned of a betrayal to me and my family and my only plea was, "Help me God."  Not much of a prayer, but I remember that it was answered - after a long battle with my emotions, the source of the betrayal was subsequently absent and my insides were set straight. They remained straight for some time too: another betrayal, through the divorce, two jobs, unemployment, new job, death #1, grieving, death #2... you get the picture.

Yet, the miles, the strides, the climbs and the endless self-evaluations seemed to add up to one big, fat, zero.  Nothing. I am back where I was many years ago.  Praying to God for myself.

I sat at basketball practice on Saturday, enjoying the tripping, the dribbling of the ball on the big toe and subsequent scramble to get it, the missed shots, the swish and the glee of the swish.  I was enjoying myself.  Then I looked up and I saw my ex strolling in, hand-in-hand with his girl, and it made me puke a little in my mouth.  I've since gotten over the pain, the anger, and the fondness of my ex; and have even come to respect his new girlfriend to a degree (though I fear for her in ways she cannot comprehend), but the bitter taste of resentment still bubbles every so often.  I don't miss him, I miss a mate; and I cannot understand how he can find love at every turn but I still sit lonely inside a full room. 

What the hell is wrong with me?

That baggage came with me to church too, snuggled next to fear and sorrow. So, we're at resentment, fear and sorrow.  Not the greatest recipe for a trajectory into joy, is it?

So I prayed for myself.

Mass was about longing for God.  I got it.  I understood it, even chuckled a couple times during the priest's Gospel.  It gave me just enough energy to get through the day:  making a chocolate cake, some shake-n-bake drumsticks, homemade chicken noodle soup.  I watched the kids as they ate and ate and ate, appreciating all of it.  Once their eyes were closed for the night, darkness descended and I spent the night tossing and turning, finally getting out of bed because staying in it was making it darker by the minute.  I could have prayed.  I probably should have prayed.  But I forgot.  Maybe I'll remember later.

Kids are up.  Time to turn the key and start up vehicle #1.