And yet

3am thoughts, 3 days before Christmas 2018

Yesterday I took a ride in the back of a cop car to the mental health department to see a crisis counselor. The whole day was like something happening outside myself, I couldn't wrap my brain around the fact that I, Emily, mother of 4, woman who can do it all, wife to a slothful man who loves me something fierce....would end up in that situation. I was in so much turmoil internally. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. The challenges i'd spent a year seeing the learning opportunity in I could no longer find the light. I was no longer willing to try. I didn't want to do anything. I didn't want to think about anything. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I didn't want to figure out what was going on inside my brain. I just knew I was in a dark place. Someone had put me in a room with no windows and no light and locked the door.
Then my 18 month old sweet cherub of a son got out the front door and walked right into the street. If this was one of THOSE novels, he would have been killed in that moment. The moment I was laying lifeless on my bed in the deepest of despair, my 4th born child would have been hit by a car, something I would have never EVER been able to forgive myself of. But no, that's not what happened. Some kind woman scooped him up and walked him to our front door where my slothful fierce loving husband grabbed him fearfully, while still wet from his shower and only wearing a towel around his waist. He then walked into the bedroom, with our gorgeous and joyful son is his arms and said "it's time to get up and parent" with the meanest tone in his voice and the angriest look on his face.
This helped me absolutely zero percent. In fact, it spiraled me down further. I didn't think it could get any darker, yet it did. I began lashing out at him. With my words. I am smart and fierce and I know how to use my words to build up and to tear down. And my goal was to tear him down. How dare he make me feel guilty for being so depressed. How dare he try and blame me solely for the fact our precious child walked out the front door into the road.

It's all so horrible looking back on it now. As I sit on the floor of my bedroom, criss cross apple sauce (can you tell I'm a mother of school aged children) with a chihuahua at my feet (my feet which are painfully without feeling at the moment.)

And maybe this is why I'm awake at 330am. I've been awake since 2am. My dogs woke me up, apparently they're having stomach issues and need to go outside as soon as I've snuggled up warm under my covers on this cold almost-Christmas-eve-morning.

That's another thing. It's almost Christmas. And I'm depressed. I feel completely cut off from my usual vibrant, loving, spiritual and productive soul. I haven't felt the loving "touch" of my Father in Heaven in weeks. I haven't had a good idea to write about in weeks. I haven't achieved any amazing feat. I haven't had the drive or motivation to do it. I have all these things I WANT to do, and no motivation to do them.

I want to write my book. My book that needs so many edits and changes that I am at a loss. I know I need to just begin. I need to just write. And yet, I get caught up in the mental picture of the uphill battle ahead of me.

I want to start a blog about exercise when chronically ill. And yet, I get caught up in the mental picture of the uphill battle ahead of me.

What I really want is a break from the troubles in my life. I want money in the bank. I want food in the cupboards. I want to be caught up on bills. I want to know the school I worked so hard for will be around for many years to come without me being involved. I want a marriage that is stronger than anything, I want a husband whom I never think an ill thought of.
I want healthy animals. I want Ian to have a job. I want to enjoy my days and create a life that feels abundant.

I know the only thing I have control over is my reaction to things. I reacted so horribly yesterday. I was so weary. So bone tired. I saw no hope. I saw no light at the end of the tunnel, just tunnel. And the kind of tunnel that's pitch black with no lights inside. Those are scary tunnels.

I'm so scared of the future. I don't know what it holds. Will my school be renewed? If so, what will my role be? If not, how will my soul handle that? I don't want to feel like the only one putting in the work for it to succeed anymore. I do know that. I don't want to be blamed every time something doesn't go perfectly. I don't want to feel like a failure for needing to step back from this school that has taught me so much and also taken so much away from me.