The Sum of All Fears

As children we spend half of our time dreaming of what we will become when we "grow up." Now that I'm an adult, I find my self contemplating the benefits of retirement. There are just things you hope for that don't happen, & as time goes on & you realize your strength is far smaller than your dreams, you become disheartened, tainted, cynical....or in other words, a realist.

Here's what I know about our realistic world: we each have shadows in ourselves, dark blots that we spend our lives running from, denying, & trying to change. We spend our efforts hating these blots that are a part of ourselves, & thus we end up never fully accepting ourselves. My blot is my illness. I cannot tell you how many times I have shaken my fist at it. I've screamed & cried & ached in pain, just hoping that it would hear my desperation & just go away. I've prayed & mourned & asked for blessings & miracles & visited more doctors than I can even recall the names of. I've been poked, prodded, & medicated & still it takes all of my effort to get out of bed each day, so to be honest, most days I don't.

Life has pushed me down & I feel trapped in a ridiculously deep pit of despair. I know there will be those of you who read this & think, "she just needs to have faith" or "she just needs to look on the bright side of things," count my blessings, so to speak. But I have & I do. I know I have people who love me. I know I have a Father in heaven that is watching out for me, but I am pushed to the max of my ability to endure & have been for a long time now. I'm just plain 'ole worn out.

I am crying out one more time, "Please, Dear God, take some of this weight from me."