A Nun's life
There are worse fates in life, I keep telling myself. I could live in Darfur, or the Sudan. Or anywhere in the Motherland, actually. But I forget. That's fantasy again. It seems somehow more acceptable to be living in dire conditions because a person happens to live in a place where greedy men with power control the economic conditions of those nations, and their people suffer mightily as a result. I'm sure if I lived in Darfur, I would not feel that my life was filled with acceptable suffering. I would be too busy trying to survive.
I guess that's what I'm doing now. I'm trying to survive life without my drugs of choice. That's hard enough for me, and I feel like such a whiny wuss for complaining about it.
If that isn't bad enough, my sponsor says my job (unpaid) is to take care of my mother. I do that by taking care of her medical and legal affairs, but now I have to help relief the stress my sister is under by taking care of her physically. That means giving her medicine and wiping her s****y behind. Yes. This is doing
God's work, it is my spiritual path. I should feel honored to clean my mother's behind, my sponsor says.
Just call me Mother Teresa, then. I guess I am a "Baha'i nun." Sorry for the pity party, folks. Smelling my mother's feces is not my idea of a good time. Maybe someday I'll see the lesson in all this. Right now, I'm pissed, depressed and in despair. Please pray for me.