What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger... And Ready For the Next Hit

 I had a horrible  yesterday. Thank the Lord it is behind me. I have had a tough couple of years I would like to forget but need to remember.

When life is going great it is TRULY great.
Life can change in an instant and end just as quickly. Mine hasn't ended (yet) but yesterday I reached the end of the frazzled rope I have been desperately clinging to.

Work sucked (which it normally doesn't) and my kids were driving me the short distance to crazy. By the time I got home from yet another double shift... I sat in my car for five minutes in the garage wondering how people actually hook up those hoses that feed  exhaust fumes into the car. After five minutes I had a good cry , remembered I had thrown away the garden hose anyway so I got out of the car and went inside.

I called my sister and we complained together.  I am fifty one years old. I should be picking out a time share in Aruba. Instead I am picking out who to kite a check to to keep the utilities on and continually telling myself "It could be worse ."

I woke up this morning after a late night big ole fat come to Jesus meeting with my nineteen year old son who is playing me like a broke fiddle (huge pun intended.) I finally broke down with him (blubbering like a baby) and broke it all down FOR him.

I am a server. If I need money I work. If I need more money I work more shifts. If I don't have money  I can't take days off. If he doesn't help me he's hurting me. If I'm hurt I can't work. If I can't work you may as well kite another one of my checks,  go ahead and buy another garden hose... run it into the garage and crank the engine on my car up....and pick up a shovel while you are there.

My point hit him hard...my fists wanted to but he's a smart kid, He got it!

Sometimes you just have to lay it out. "This is our life, this is the way it is. It could be a heck of a lot worse or we can try our best to make it better."

I was a VERY stupid kid and didn't begin to grow up til I was in my late twenties. I lost my Momma at the age of seventeen and my Diddy didn't have a clue ...Momma raised us,  he brought home the pay check and gave out the occasional whooping with his belt when we did something bad.

My family is much the same way...Tim brings home his paycheck and asks where he left his belt when he gets up to leave for work.

It's getting better, it really is. I just have a meltdown once every six weeks or so (you think the fam would be marking the days on their calendar.)

Let me cry and puff up my eyes, make Zach hug and tell  me he loves me ... Massey will clean her room and after a good night's sleep it is back to what "We" call normal.

Til next time...Hangin' on and doing it again tomorrow COTTON