It is funny the range of emotions that I feel, sometimes within a couple of minutes. I can go from grateful, thankful, and appreciative to empty, alone, and defeated within seconds. When I am in that miserable hole, getting out is so so hard. I can’t do it on my own. The only way to get out is to pray like a maniac, begging for peace. Sometimes I question why on Earth that could ever work. Is it just taking my mind off my misery long enough to think outside of myself? Is it denial? Does God even exist? Or is it denial that death is just final and that is it? Because if death is final and that’s the end, that is unbearable. Is it truly like they say, you give God your problems and he takes all your troubles away? One of the many, many unanswered questions.

What I do know, is that when I beg God to take my troubles away, He does. Not always like I want him to, but He definitely makes this bearable. Or maybe less heart-wrenching. When I am at my worst, I physically hurt. My stomach feels like it has this excruciating pit in the bottom of it. It is almost impossible to make myself walk up the stairs or change the laundry. It’s just too much. When I beg God to please help me, I can at least function. Maybe I’m not meant to be fabulous right now, just functioning. I’ll take it. Every single time I get myself and kids out of bed and on with life, I consider it a big fat win.

Sometimes it feels pretty selfish the way I use God when I’m at my worst. When I’m feeling good, I occasionally remember to thank Him for His greatness, but usually I forget. Sorry, God, I’m a work in progress, basically a spiritual slacker. I’m doing my best, though, and I’m pretty sure you’re noticing.