Self-Pity and and the Art of Potty-Training

My recent foray into self-pity over the past few weeks (or is it months now?) has taught me something. Self-pity is a drug that I abuse. It's drug for several reasons. When I don't want to feel anything else because I'm frustrated or fed up, I turn to self-pity. I turn to it because then it's all about me, all about my comfort. There's a certain high that comes from it initially, but there's a distinct (and longer) downer and hangover period after the fact. It's recreational and social - I love to use it and share it with friends. Seeing friends use it draws me into it even when I'm not originally using it myself. And it's addicting. Oh is it addicting, calling me back to it again and again, creating a binge of weeks (or months) that feels like a fog of time. Self-pity is a drug, and it is a demon.

I've at least figured out part of the source that created the downward spiral into this drug abuse. Like so many other people, it's my job. I'm not having a lot of fun right now, for several reasons. Part of it is I wonder whether or not I'll have my job at the end of the school year. And despite my frustrations, this is a job I want to keep. But a lot of it is the way my school is being run right now. I'll avoid the specifics, but the environment is the worst I've been in during my 8 years of teaching. And the most positive people I work with feel the same way at this point. Last Sunday's sermon at church was about work. I absolutely wanted to avoid that topic at all costs that day, but I did write down something that our pastor quoted in his sermon:
"While the carpenter is building the house, the house is building the carpenter." Unfortunately, I could see the way my work was "building" me, and the result was the drug addiction mentioned above.

Yesterday I was getting frustrated with my daughter. We're in the middle of potty training right now. She's interested in it, and she knows what she's supposed to do. She even cheers loudly for me every time I successfully urinate in the correct spot. She's only successful in finding the right spot at the right time for herself, though, about 1 in 6 or 7 times. I was just shaking my head yesterday. This is a kid who hates being dirty. Our napkin budget has tripled since she's began eating solid food, because she must stay clean. When we carved our pumpkin this year, she helped get the guts of the pumpkin out; but it was with a large spoon from a great distance away. She hates uncleanliness. I can't figure out why, then, she won't just use the toilet consistently. She understands the process. She knows she'll be wet and unhappy if she doesn't. And she's successful when she chooses to be. This doesn't make any sense, I thought to myself.

Then I went on a run and figured something out. I'm doing pretty much the exact same thing she's doing. I hate feeling like crap. I avoid it as much as possible. I know that to avoid extended periods of feeling like this, I must stay connected to God. Yet time and time again, God must look down and shake his head, wondering why I've wet myself all over again. I'm 29 years old, and I still need to wear pull-ups through the night because when things get dark in my life, I forget to use the toilet (figuratively speaking). My daughter's two. What's my excuse?