Sadness

A short entry tonight. It hasn't been a good day. I recently got divorced when my partner of 7 years left me. There have been a few days recently when I've felt almost "normal" again, but most days the hurt just keeps on going and going. I was feeling particularly lonely and depressed tonight, and then along comes the Office. The Psalms, which had been generally happy lately, full of praise and love for God, have returned to lamentations. Tonight we read Psalm 73, a song from a sad soul who sees himself trying to be good but suffers continually anyway, while the people who mistreat him continually prosper. His faith in the Lord keeps him going.

I feel kinda the same way. My whole life got torn apart by this divorce. I was in love; pretty happily overall, and I was looking forward to decades and decades more as a married person. But now I'm alone and quite sad. My own words fail me. It's just not possible to describe how horrible this feels. But there's genuine comfort in the Psalms. When I read the bitter and lonely verses I know that someone else out there, 2500 years ago, felt just as bad as I do today. The important thing is that is faith sustained him. I pray that my faith can sustain me.

Changing the subject: I went to Morning Prayer again at Ascension today. (I always seem to go there on cold and rainy mornings.) I walked in and there was a nun leading Prayer, but no other people. Just me. I was frightened; my social anxiety kicked in and I was fearful that I would say the wrong thing, or stand up at the wrong time, or remain seated too long, or in some other way grossly offend God and all his church. Nothing like that happened, but it was a strange experience, and not just because I was the only person there, but also because the Sister had a thick accent and I could barely tell where we were in the service. I had actually thought she might be saying it in Latin or something (a thought that wouldn't have occurred to me before starting to read the Breviary). I made it through okay though. No major embarassments during Morning Prayer. But then right afterwards at mass, the priest dropped the wafer he was about to hand to me. It hit the ground and he scrambled for it. It fell between my knees. I was paralyzed as he reached for it, found it, ate it, and then handed me a broken pie-slice from the priest wafer. It was terrifying.

Another wrinkle in my plan: they chose to read Judith. (I was reading Esther.) Now I'm stymied and I don't know what to do. For most of 2006, that's been my predominant feeling. I guess you could say I'm getting used to it.