I wasn't smiling on Sunday.

This post will appear Monday; but I am writing this on Sunday morning and I am hacked off. Frustrated. Angry. Embarrassed. Because once again, midway through Mass, I have had to nudge John, gather my things and beat an embarrassed retreat from the church.

I knew that today would be a low energy day. Y'all know the feeling -- you throw the covers back and stick one leg out of bed and instinctually understand that you will be worth crap that day. Which is exactly the way my morning started on Sunday but I dressed and slapped on some makeup all the while resolving that I WOULD stay through the service. No matter what. No matter how I felt. We headed out, and I walked into the church with determination.

It didn't take long for some nasty symptoms to appear and then as the service went on, in spite of my resolve, my face and back were soaked in sweat, my entire body felt heavy as lead, and I experienced that familiar bizarre sensation which felt as though my face was freezing cold.

I gritted my teeth, took some deep breaths, gulped from my water bottle, and sat down. Not going to give in not going to give in not going to give in... When the skin on my back felt ice cold, (Well. THAT was new.) I knew that if I continued to completely ignore my symptoms I would need to lie down right there on the pew. Or on the floor. Because I would have zero stamina for basic things like standing up. Which would be problematic.

It was time to give in and go home. So I wobbled my way back to the car.

Which brought me back to my recliner with my laptop pounding out my frustrations on the keyboard.

I've missed so much church over the past two months, and dang. I really miss it. I love going to church. It meets a major spiritual need for me and when I'm unable to stay for the duration of Mass, I feel as though I have missed a very very good thing.

I'm going to problem solve this after I cool off -- and I'm still pretty hot under the collar so it won't be any time soon.

Grrrr.