Of course you do. We all do. Life. Life is hard.
But particularly, for me, currently, the hard things are not what they used to be.
It used to be hard to put up with all the imperfections in my family. If only they would care about this house. If only they weren't out to get me. If only they would leave me alone for one flipping minute. If only he (you know, HIM) would truly love me, care about me, make ME a priority. Things would be better then. You know. In a perfect world.
It used to be hard to put up with my own imperfections. If I was more organized, thinner, brunette, with stunning violet eyes, confident, and could whistle loudly with my fingers, and play an instrument proficiently, and wear quirky and stunning outfits, and jog everyday, and have such a regularity to my prayer life it would be like breathing. THEN things would be right around here.
It used to be really hard to realize the criticism of my family was wrong, it should all go on me. It is my fault, not theirs. I should be more loving, more understanding, more resilient. It is my fault the house has an angry discouraged mood to it. My fault. It is all my fault.
Now, though, what is really hard? To know that it isn't the kids, the husband, me. It is a broken world, a fallen nature, imperfect stupid fallen nature. To say, if only.... about him, them, me. Easy.
To say, "This world is broken, imperfect. I am broken, imperfect. All the people I love are broken and imperfect. Deal with it. Love anyway. Try anyway. Be content anyway. Ask the Divine Healer in for a visit, hopefully to stay as long as it takes. Open up, love, keep working, find joy, receive love, agonize through pain and sorrow, love again and give."
Hard. Really, really hard.
Blame is so much easier, really, than living.
