Committed*

God help me, I’m committed.  And maybe I should be committed for that.  Isn’t insanity defined as doing the same thing over and over repeatedly while expecting a different result?

She’s trying, she really is. However, hard luck follows her like the hungry street dog that follows you because you tossed him a scrap of your sandwich at lunchtime.  She had carpal tunnel surgery on both hands at the end of May.  When she got the new job at the daycare, which we desperately needed, they didn’t have a problem with her surgery and said that she could come back on light duty when she was ready.  Apparently, the director developed an attitude about her between here and there and decided that she has to have a full release before she can return to work.  There is more to that story, but I don’t have the time to tell it.

I do love her, but I still feel ye olde resentment churning.  I’m working a full time and part time job, yet her day usually starts at noon, if at all.  Unless watching someone else’s kids is involved, then she’s up with the sun.  I feel like she gives to everything and everyone else but me.  I just get the leftovers at the end of the day, and the pickins are pretty lean.

Which reminds me, that similar of how I treat my relationship with God.  I expect to feel fan-freaking-tastic all of the time, yet I don’t take time to talk to Him, or read the Bible.  Too much of that, and I start to really overlook my blessings, and how much I truly have. 

So, I sit, stuck in a rut of my own choosing.  I could drop it in a lower gear, ease on the accelerator, and gently pull myself out.  But no, I sit in drive with my foot full on the gas, and wonder why I don’t go anywhere.

Insanity.

Committed.