In my heart...

Photograph Courtesy of Reed Photographic

...I want to be helped from this pit. I want to come and put on a happy smiley face and tell you all that I am fine, that the world is just peachy, that the sun is shining. I am still fine one minute, and bawling like mad the next. Well, at least the bawling comes few and far between, but little bouts of tears now and then. I feel myself avoidant of things. I haven't left my house all week unless I had to. I don't want to. When I return home I just want to crawl into bed and die. I don't of course. Of course I have three little crazy kids running about the house fighting for my attention, and they require all of it. I am exhausted physically and emotionally from all of it. I haven't put on makeup for almost a week.

In my heart, I know this is not good. In my heart I just want to be myself again. I miss me. I miss knowing what Heavenly Father wants of me. I miss feeling trusted. I miss feeling like I had any control over my life whatsoever.

Someone asked a few days ago why I don't allow comments on these posts. I write them for my own sake, so that I remember how I am feeling, so that once I am finally out of the dark...I can more fully appreciate the light. I feel bad telling the world how hard this is for me to get through, how I just wish it to be a few months from now when I know that the picture will be clearer and my heart less empty.

Yesterday a dear, dear friend of mine from out of town surprised me by flying here to be with me and help me through this. I was almost beyond feeling when I saw her standing in my kitchen. I felt like I had nothing to offer her but my depressed self. It was so nice to be thought of, to not have to worry about fixing dinner, and that I could just sit on the couch as she mopped my floor in preparation for LJ's caseworker to visit. I let her do that. That impressed me. I just want her to know how much I appreciated that. Even though right now I don't know where "I" am.

This morning, some ladies from an Early Intervention program came over to test little LJ for developmental delays. (Holla to my mommy self for knowing that he was just fine...but appeased the caseworkers and such by allowing them to come. I was right, he is right on track...just a little two year old, but smart as a whip...) Anyway, as one of the ladies was giving the test, the nurse that was there asked me, "Who had the birthday? Or did somebody die or something?" Referencing the massive amounts of foliage on my kitchen island. I wish I had a tape recorder, it wasn't what she asked, but how. I broke down into tears and said, actually, the latter...and found myself having to explain and apologize for my sobs. GAAAAHHHHHH!!!!

Some dudes came over today to help us plan our retirement. One of the dudes was this guy who is in the bishopric of the first ward we attended after we were married. I sat there at the table just staring off, with my intermittent squabble endings between Emms and LJ. I just cried as they were leaving, apologizing for the lack of my usual "Sunny Disposition". Oh sunny disposition where art thou? I hate being this way. I HATE IT!