I am alive... at least I think I am...

I can't even begin to describe this last week. I have sobbed uncontrollably. I have shouted for joy. I have been so angry I couldn't see straight. I have begged for the light of Father in Heaven to ease the crushing feelings. I have felt guilt upon guilt for what I should be able to do and can't. I have pushed and shoved and given it all my heart and soul. I have left my kids to fend for themselves while I try to do the things I *have* to do right now. I have tucked my kids in only to have only seen them for that brief moment all day long. I have not been truthful to my husband about how I really am feeling, just to avoid the lecture about not doing the things that I have no choice but to do. I have thrown my hands up in despair and decided that I can't care about one more thing. I have screamed into my pillow that I cannot do one more thing! I have had such huge changes happen that nothing will ever be the same, and had not a breath of real time to mourn for it. I have felt Heavenly Father's blessings and love pour out upon me and give me hope. Hope! I have witnessed the pain of others and realized my trials are so trivial in comparison. I have found great joy in a gospel lesson given to my kids that they *got* for Family Home Evening. I have feared. I have had faith. I have wanted to walk away. I have wanted to fight for all it is worth. I have cared a little too much. I have held it all in a little too much. And already... I have shared just a little too much. And none of it is really anything I can or want to talk about anyway.

Tonight...is it too much to ask? I just want off this rollercoaster. Really I do. But that is not on the horizon. Not any time soon. And I am suppose to be counting my blessings... naming them one by one...

1... It could be so much worse.

2... It has been so much worse.

3... I am sure I am not alone in these feelings that no one ever really expresses... because well... we are suppose to be strong and have faith... Aren't we?