Passive and Prideful

I did not heed my advice from yesterday to not look back, as I started reading my journal from last year. I wanted to see when I started an electronic journal and it threw me into the midst of the the bombings. I'm glad my husband called and drew me away from that. He asked, "So what was happening last year?" I love male passive insensitivity. I replied, "Nothing important." Female prideful independence.
I'm thinking, My world falling apart and hating my job as I struggle with wanting to just crawl under a rock, but nothing important. My words from last year reveal I was full of hope. I knew I wouldn't stay there forever. In the intense battle, I held on to my God. I waited expectantly for spring and improvement of my mood. Last spring, the natural remedies didn't help, so I decided after much debate, trepidation and yes, fear, to commence Zoloft, as well as adding iron to an already over active gut, to cope with life. But I never forgot prayer. Most of the time, it was "Jesus, help." In the shower, as hot water pounded my back, I cried out for strength to get through the morning.
So I remember, but not with regret. Some things are fun to remember. I reread Gabrielle and Brian's wedding program from March 2011. They used the Beach Boys' song God Only Knows. I used that heavily in my novel I wrote for NaNoWriMo, and had forgotten they had it played in their wedding.
I ran across another blog on self publishing reinforcing my desire to publish my work. I have felt since September this is the right path to take at this time. It has only been three years since I finished my first novel, Main Street. This summer, I hope to be peddling two novels. A learning process that delights me. I have often asked for patience and the Lord gives me reason for it all the time.
Sun is shining through the gray clouds. I think a sleeping dog would love to be awoken for a walk. I do hope my revealing of the tip of my iceberg of troubles helps someone along the way. I think, though, how we in America are the top two percent. My husband always told the whining girls, "If life were fair, we'd all be living in a mud hut in Uzbekistan." Sometimes that male passive insensitivity keeps perspective, if done right. We female prideful independents can help.