Encouraging Improvement

"Don't call it complaining" I said " Call it encouraging improvement" ..I trailed off.

Goodness did I JUST say that?

What type of a person justifies complaining...

I am THE biggest complainer. My balloon is blown up so tight that it often only takes a small prick for a massive release of gushing air. The balloon swinging wildly around the room until it settles in a miserable shrivelled mess on the floor.

And one gush, inevitably, leads to another.

My sisters favourite phrase for me in my late teens was " do you want some cheese with that whine?"

I would hope that I am considerably improved since then. Hope. But doubt it.

The many late nights I have sat crying and gushing over my poor Hunna who (mostly sighs and asks if we can do it at a more appropriate hour ) which inevitably sets me off on complaining about something else. Probably about him. Poor soul.

It's funny how people have admired how long it took to go to hospital when my appendix burst and swallowed some of my intestines with it. How painful it would've been.. but to me. Physical pain. Is not what I complain about the most.

Sure in the last week I've heaved an exasperated half sob ( half because I can't show any emotion without hurting my abdomen ) and wailed " why me Hunna .. And now I have a cold too.. Is there NO end? "

But mostly the complaining is of the emotional kind.

Pinch me, kick me and bruise me. OK that will hurt but betray me, poke fun at me or withdraw love and I will be a heap on the bedroom floor for weeks. I'll mull that sentence over and over in my head. Roll it around on my tongue trying to make sense of it.

Deconstructing every syllable until exhausted I fall asleep.

Apparently it's called "emotional sensitivity"

Yes, I am sensitive. I know this.

But does the sensitivity have to come with very cringe worthy complaining. I think not.

The other week in sacrament while listening to the Devonport Stake Patriarchs talk I was struck with something he said.

" time does not heal all wounds, love heals all wounds"

After Dad died I treated my grief like I would a cut or a bruise. Expecting it would leave over time. That it would heal itself and one day I would wake up and the gnawing of my tiny teenage heart would be gone.

I've treated most emotionally sensitive issues since with the same, patience is key, attitude.

Sometimes, time does heal emotional hurt, but not because I have dealt with it.. Simply because I have seemingly forgotten about it. Like it wasn't that important to begin with.

But some things. They don't leave with time, they are always with me. More painful than any burst appendix or any bowel resection.

These are the things I tend to complain about.

These are the things, I now find ( after a fantastic sacrament talk) I should fill with love. Smother with charity and dollop with forgiveness.

Love is all you need .... right?