There's a Hole in my Bucket

I am aware I may not always sound it, and many times it takes me by surprise when I realise it, but I am intrinsically an optimist. However, I have noticed recently that when I get to feeling particularly low or volatile, I have a tendency to look only at things that are missing, the holes in my bucket, rather than my more usual approach of looking at all the many wonderful ways I could plug the holes.

One of the holes I have dwelt on a lot in the past is not having a sister. I had one once upon a time, before I was born, but she died when only six weeks old. No one ever really knew her, and certainly not me, but at times I become extremely despondent over her loss and over what life would be like, if only I had this unknown sister.

Another hole is of course the anxiety/IBS/endo combo. In this case, there are of course some fairly real concerns, but the bit that counts as my "hole" is that nagging feeling of what life would be like if I never got nervous about leaving the house. Imagine all the things I could do if I didn't always have to know where my next "convenience" was...

Recently, however, I have had a big old smack round the head about one of my most common holes. It is, quite frankly, a ridiculous hole and I am a little ashamed to admit it, especially to some of you that I know are reading this. This hole is the lack of a life long best friend, the one I met on the first day of school, we were each others bridesmaids, we talk on the phone at least once a week even though we now live in different parts of the country etc etc etc.

I am sorry for all the times I have felt jealous and insecure about your other friends and wondered which one is your best friend. I am sorry that I have wasted time imagining a relationship so utterly secure as to be impossible.

I don't fall into this hole very often anymore but it is the kind of one that sneaks up when I am getting a grip on the anxiety but it still needs somewhere to leak out. I was aware it was trying to gain some traction recently. And then came the smack round the head.

In the space of about two hours the other week, I had texts from about five different people, all of whom I value highly, all of whom are very busy. They all took the time to text and say their parts of the following:

How are you?

I miss you.

You did that really well.

I love you.

What can I pray about for you?

How did X that you were worried about go?

What a wake up call, and what an unbelievably blessed and lucky person I am because they aren't the only five people who would say those things to me. Thank you. I love you too. And I promise I am going to plug that hole in my bucket as soon as it appears next time. I am going to plug it with your names.