This week has been one for the record books.
One of the worst weeks ever.
I can’t remember the last time I cried this much, stressed this much. I can’t remember the last time I looked all around me and saw nothing positive. I can’t see anything good.
I know it’s there, it has to be. If for no other reason than the tiny shreds of faith I’ve cobbled together include this: “There must needs be opposition in all things…”
So if all I can see is bad, the good is out there, and I have to find it. I have to somehow stop seeing earthquakes and job loss and hurt feelings and bad test scores and old cars with black oil and apathy and instead, see their opposites.
Whatever that means.
I suppose it means that even though this makes me cry for reasons I can’t articulate, I have to believe the tears are, if not happy, at least therapeutic:
