This one is a little rant-ish...
I really try not to complain too much. I mean, I live in a big house, I have a great husband who's always home when I need him and I have two kids that for the most part get along and are best friends.
But really, isn't it all relative? I like to point out that there's always someone worse off than you. I suppose there's one guy, somewhere, who has it the worst but it certainly isn't me. But does that diminish my own hard times? I hate when I feel guilty for admitting that sometimes, only sometimes, I just don't like my life.
Like the weeks when I am up every few hours adjusting blood sugars because my T1D daughter won't wake up on her own and she's going through a growth spurt or hormone adjustment and now her insulin settings are all off.
Or how about waking my son up at midnight to take a pill because it has to be on an empty stomach 30 minutes before and 2 hours after, and let's face it the only time a 7 year old boy goes 3 hours without food is when he's asleep.
I have a new business that I have absolutely no idea how to get off the ground. I've done everything short of give away free vacations and no bites - not even free estimates! What happened to the 8 years I spent in business school?
I've been fired from the one volunteer job I'm completely excited to do because I don't write flowery emails, I'm straight and to the point, which is apparently unacceptable.
But, as I said, I live in a big house with a great family, so my problems don't count right? I mean it's not like I'm in Nepal where the power doesn't work most of the time and if you burn dinner there's no Wendy's down the street to run to.
I guess what I"m trying to say is - if you have a problem, even a first world problem - I'll listen because just because you aren't starving in a hovel somewhere doesn't mean your frustrations don't count.
Rant over.
