Wounded

It's been a hard week.

I've been hurt.

Deeply. And felt trampled on. Someone who I thought was a close friend has turned out not to be. Someone who I thought had my back turned out to be trashing me, up and down, behind my back.

And it hurts.

I don't have a lot of friends. I work in a male-dominated profession, and we're still trying to find a church we're comfortable with, and even though my husband keeps telling me to go do activities, I can't explain to him that I can't find anything profitable. I've found that moms groups and things of that nature seem to be turn into nothing more than husband bashing sessions. I adore my husband, and I don't have much to criticize him for. And, honestly, I have too much respect for Rob to sit around and publicly talk about the ways he fails(and he respects me enough to not air all the ways I fail, either). I don't like them.

But it leaves me with no one to really talk to about this. To say that I'm hurt and wounded. To try to sort out what I did wrong(and, honestly, it was probably nothing; this person thinks that by trashing me it makes him look good, and it isn't only me he's suddenly turned against). Sometimes we all just need a shoulder to cry on, but right now, I wish so much that I had a really good friend to just go out to lunch with, and play with the baby, or sit on my futon and watch a movie and have a cup of hot chocolate.

But it will be okay. I suspect I'm no different than most young moms who struggle with changing roles and ideas and opinions. And I have a beautiful, beautiful baby boy, and a husband who adores me and wants nothing but the best for me. There is so much love in my home, and I am so glad that I have this to come back to when the rest of the world seemes against me.