Update: I am still eating under control, exercising five times a week, and asking God to keep me in check.
In other news: I feel like I am going under.
Last night I started to let the floodgates down, and there was a torrent of emotion that I am unable to explain. I am still fighting to put a lid on the tears 12 hours later.
I know it's hormonal. That knowledge is no less upsetting than if I had a more reasonable explanation for my sadness.
I am fighting depression everyday.
I feel displaced.
Maybe its because my house is such a mess. Or because I am exhausted from doing even the bare minimums. I feel guilty for neglecting the mountainous emotional needs of these precious ones placed in my care.
I sort of pride myself on their self-sufficiency but and landblasted when their hearts are laid bare and they are needy and unattended under all of that responsibility.
Who am I that God would continue to extend His blessing to me in this desperate and wretched estate? What really matters here?
I am bombarded with these questions on top of this crazy mess. It sends me reeling, which compels me to climb back into my bed, the only plausible solution.
I need help, but I'm not sure what with. I need hope, even though the Jesus, the hope of glory, resides within me.
It's a terrible feeling.
Lvb
