Two steps forward, one step back

I've been fighting it. Sitting here trying to find words to make me sound mature and equanimous. I can't find them, so I'll just get it over with and embrace my inner drama queen. I had hoped to write a post today about happiness. About the discovery over the last week or so that a fog I didn't even know I was in had lifted.You know the feeling when you finally get new glasses or contacts and everything is so clear and you didn't even realize how blurry things were before? It's been like that. Or like this scene from Pleasantville:

I know this is all ridiculously melodramatic but I didn't realize how sad I have felt until I started feeling really happy again. And there have been so many stark moments of happiness lately: finding unexpected joy in the over-the-top Americana of a baseball game with friends; bonding with new friends (this extrovert's delight); uninterrupted time to finish a good book; a new Aaron Sorkin show; renewed and deepening relationships with people I am just flat-out crazy about.

This post, however, is not about happiness. Someone said something to me yesterday that has sent me reeling, certain that I'm free-falling back into the fog. Who it was and what they said isn't important. It was crazy insensitive and frankly, almost unspeakable but the thing about it that really bugs me? I feel like it instantly erased the progress toward healing I've made recently. All over again I feel sad and tired. 

And on top of the sadness and exhaustion, I'm angry at myself for letting one horrible comment overshadow so much good. Yesterday contained a chance to listen to my smart, sexy husband preach, a two-hour nap, an afternoon cooking my favorite food and watching How I Met Your Mother, a long evening eating tacos and laughing with friends I adore, and ended with watching The Bachelorette finale with my girlfriends while our husbands cleaned my kitchen. Sure, it also contained the twenty minutes I spent crying in a bathroom stall at church like an idiot, but on the whole, we can certainly call that a good day, can't we?

Maybe this is the way of things. Two steps forward, one step back? 

This kind of halting progress, characterized by feeling sad, tired, and idiotic, makes me want to take this advice:

I just may, but I'm also trying this: May our weary hearts be filled with hope. Amen.