Stings

I stepped on something today that stung me. Literally. I have no idea what it was, but it sure was a stinger. The bottom of my foot instantly swelled up and I had a fever for about an hour and a half. Allergic reaction much? I guess so! It took me several hours of attempts (and then soaking my foot in epsom salt) to finally get the stinger out of my foot. I might add, that the sting sight wasn't really hurting all that much until the stinger itself was actually removed. Now the bottom of my foot is just swollen and hurting.

I find it funny how life situations can reflect our hearts sometimes. My heart feels swollen and sore. Quite frankly, a bee stung my heart yesterday, and now today I'm left licking the wound that's festering.

In the moment of the bee sting, I was so angry with the "bee". My heart was wholly focused on the ridiculous actions of the bee and how utterly inconsiderate it was. Don't get me wrong, the bee was being foolish. His actions were reprehensible. I make no excuses for his decisions.

Why are there almost always "buts" when stings arrive? This story would be no exception. I was not an innocent bystander. I fought with the bee, instigated it, prodded it, and punished it, and then I ran away to my corner to hide when the bee stung me. I hate when the blame goes in two directions...

So here I sit, being given the silent treatment (which is incredibly unfair, except that I know the bee always runs away to hide when he thinks I'm disappointed and enraged with him), with a stung and swollen heart, feeling sad. Here I sit, still angry, but much more hurt than anything by the actions of the other day. Here I sit wishing and wanting for things to be different than they are, but trapped in the actuality of what is. Here I sit, waiting for the stinger to be removed so the healing can begin. Here I sit hoping that the grief of the attack will overwhelm you to the point of needing to talk to me. Stupid girl, huh?