Well! Aren't I A Selfish Bitch?

*sighs*

I was feeling quite low today. I'd had a hard shift (and the one the day before wasn't easy, either) and the day was going to be very busy; what with the volunteering and Bingo's walk and dinner and then the Games Evening (I'll explain about that when there's more time)...not unpleasant, just busy, when what I really actually would like to do is lie down and sleep. Plus there's the hay-fever. And I'm hemming and hawing my way into starting my eating plan again - not a diet. I gave up on that years ago - and as I felt shit I've flunked that already today; and it's only just past midday.
So I was feeling sorry for myself.
Then the phone rang.
It was Barbara, ringing mother - she was out delivering birthday cake to my Uncle. Cake I wasn't going to get to taste; another black mark for today in my opinion - to tell her that while a cup of tea and a chat would be lovely, she was booked solid over the next few days being hustled hither and thither doing this and that until the day of the funeral. So thanks but no thanks.
After this news had been en-parted she enquired about mother's and my health and asked how we were and what we were doing today. Knowing she needed a distraction I told her in detail, which she seemed to appreciate, and the conversation flowed smoothly from there to cooking and then to the ever increasing demands of housework. And all the while she was just...so nice and gracious and bloody well POLITE. Even when we - briefly - touched upon her recent loss and her infirmities - illness has left her almost immobile and her sight is failing - she didn't rise to the bait of bitterness and rage, and I was both impressed and saddened. Impressed that she was managing to contain her grief over her husband's death and still talk to people rather than screaming at them - as I probably would. Forget grief; I would be so bloody ANGRY - and saddened that she had lost him in the first place. And on top of that I felt deeply, deeply ashamed of my earlier self pity.
By the time the phone call finished, my inner voice was in full swing and I had been well and truly mangled.  How COULD I feel sorry for myself, when I had so much going for me? I'm young, with a reasonably healthy - fat, but otherwise healthy - body and while I did lose the love of my life, it was through desertion (God, that's melodramatic!) rather than  death, and it was nearly six years ago now (rather than just recently). And I was blessed with the option of actually going out and DOING something, like volunteering in a shop for example, to take my mind off things. And with my family so large and loving and (most of them) living so close, as well as (most of) my friends; I had the option of visits and walks and cups of tea and chats and Games Evenings and - oh, so many things. So what have I got to complain about, exactly? Nothing, that's what!
Because of her age and what family she has not being nearby, Barbara doesn't have nearly as much to fall back on in times of need, and there can't be a greater time of need for the poor woman than right now. John was everything to her. Poor, poor woman. And I was feeling bleak and dismal because I was a bit tired! Ridiculous!

All that was going through my mind as I spoke to Barbara, and then it was repeated again afterward. And now, well, now ironically, and awfully, I feel a lot better. Because I DO have a lot of things to be grateful for.

I am such a bitch...