New Year

I might have to scream if one more person tells me "Happy New Year." I am not happy. And this year might prove to be almost as horrible as last year, as I look out over a fairly likely divorce, the small possibility instead of having to committ my husband, and the prospect of selling the house I love in order to move into my parents' basement.
I am visiting relatives, and we went to their church this morning. It was a fairly uncomfortable prospect. They broke out into sharing about what they are thankful for, blessings from the last year, and I had a really hard time not crying. I am a religious person, but not of the touchy-feely variety. And on top of everything else right now, I'm aching fairly fiercely. I fought off the impulse to stand up and share my pain, to thank Jesus aloud for allowing my husband to be mentally ill- so ill he doesn't trust anyone, so ill he hurts himself physically and everyone else mentally. So ill he can't even count on me or his family for help, but he runs away from his marriage and his life. So ill he becomes a new, humorless person who can't love anyone. Who lost his easy smile, and all the jokes and intimacy. So ill he steals from me and can't think of anyone else's pain but his. Thankful that God would allow this. Allow me to be able to lose my love and my home. I'm really thankful.
That and the shaking hands. I hate people touching me- it's gross and on top of it, it's cold and flu season. But people come up to you and stick their hand in yours. Errrr. You know, you exchange more germs in a handshake than you do with sexual intercourse. And at least 10 people forced me into a handshake. One more than once. I'm not carrying any weapons, I promise!
(for those of you who are unaware, the handshake started as a custom to convince your neighbor that you were unarmed when you met.)
I wish I were home. It's easier being miserable in one's own home than abroad.
I am thankful for my dog, but she's hundreds of miles away.
Happy New Year, everyone.