It's like this...

I may have spelled that incorrectly, as I don't have access to the notes I took yesterday while reading the scriptures. However, he was in prison with Nephi and Lehi--decendants of Lehi and Sariah. They had been tossed into prison and were about to be seized by the guards to be put to death. Abinidab was a dissenter from the church but when he saw Nephi and Lehi encircled about by fire, actually being in the center of the flames and saw that they were not burned but instead were conversing with messengers from heaven, he repented. He began to call others to repentence. He rediscovered his faith. I have not seen missionairies encircled by fire. I have not been in prison, except of my own making. I have not lost my faith but I seemed to have put it on pause for a bit. I have allowed the world to shake me and circumstances beyond my control have caused me to pull back. I was tired. Exhausted. Unable to find my footing. And while I am still very tender and brokenhearted, ...

and it's at the beach cabin. Hubby and I spent four glorious days there and came back last night. I felt such peace there. I want to be able to feel that same peace on this side of the water. These are photos from past trips. It's still as beautiful. I am incredibly blessed to have this man by my side and this beautiful beach cabin for renewal and recharging. I have found my happy once more indeed.

... And I know not how to get it back.

He left rehab. Refused to stay the required time, much less the added ten day penalty for breaking out to get high the first time. He showed up at our house at one in the morning and scared the day lights out of me. Said he's clean. Said he's going to stay clean. Says he will prove it to us. The only thing he's proving to us is that he's not ready to admit his addiction is more powerful than he is. I'm preparing myself for the worst, because it's coming. I'm going to lose my son. I lost him a long time ago, because this walking ghost hasn't been my son for a very long time. He's going to die and I have to be ready. Somehow... I have to be ready. I'm scared.

He left rehab with other addicts. They used their drugs. Then he went back. Who does that? I'll tell you: SOMEONE THAT ISN'T READY TO BE CLEAN. He's not ready to be sober. In light of this news, his grandfather has decided he cannot have my son come to live with him. When I spoke to my son today I told him the news. I also told him that he cannot come home to live with us any longer. He told me that I ruined his day and then hung up on me. I feel sick. Literally physically ill. I want to curl ino the fetal position and cry for days. My stomach hurts. My head hurts. My heart...continues to break. How can something that has been shattered so many times continue to splinter and crumble? How can there be anything left?

...and another one opens, right? Sometimes not. Sometimes there is a very hard, enormously large brick wall. No doors. No windows. I didn't get my job. I say 'my' job, but it wasn't really. I don't believe the powers that be, and that goes all the way to the very top, appreciated my vocal, albeit kindly worded, encouragement of more hours added to the position to care for the homeless students. It took them seven years to realize that the person taking care of these most at risk students should be a full time person, not a three hour a day person. Then they let me go. I'm incredibly sad. And not entirely sure what to do with this gigantic brick wall facing me. I'm lost.

I held my daughters lorazapam in my hands. Ten pills. I wonder if I took them all, would I ever wake up? I could mix them with the last of the vicodine I have left over from my back injury. No. I won't. Sometimes I have these random thoughts. I want to sleep. Sleep and sleep and sleep. There is sometimes too much time in the world. I don't know how to fill it, I don't want to be in it and I feel guilty for this when I know there are so many others out there in this great big world that have little or no time left on this earth and would give anything for another day. Depression stinks. It's almost taken my daughter three--no, four--times. Each time we've pulled her back from the brink. Now she walks that high ledge. One misstep and she's gone for good, but still she stays up there, The air is thin, so she doesn't move much, conserving her energy to slide one foot in front of the other, then stopping for long periods again. Looking down, ne...

I've had three episodes of aura this morning. One right after the other. My eyes ache and my head feels odd. I wonder if there are more to come today. As I sat on my bed with my eyes tightly shut and my sunglasses on, I began to question how I would react should I lose my sight. When my eyes go into their spasms I am only able to see colorful jagged lines. I call them Christmas lights and they generally last half an hour. My field of vision is so restricted that I cannot drive nor engage in any meaningful activities. I am forced to wait it out. I sat on my bed and listened to the television, but I could not surf FB on my phone. Listening to my grandson playing with my Bella, I could not also watch the Dr. Who episode. Hearing was the only sense I was able to fully access during my episodes. It didn't stop me from trying to see around the jagged lights flashing across my eyes. Frustrating. Especially frustrating for someone like me because I never just do one thin...

I'm not sure that's even a problem for me, as I'm not currently working. Nor have I heard from the powers that be by email, phone or text. A friend in the office did text me this morning to ask if I'd heard anything and I said no. I asked her if she had. She hasn't. Or perhaps she has and is being kind by not telling me. Either way, I am at peace. If I don't get the job, I don't get the job. I should be panicking. Debt, I'm looking at you. And it's giving me a nice stare back. Today I'm with my youngest daughter and my grandson. And my tiny doggy, Bella. Enzo adores Bella. Bella has warmed to him and now considers him part of our pack. I know this because when someone Bella didn't know tried to touch Enzo, she growled menacingly. As only an almost-five-pound adorable ball of fur can. It was touching. Shout out to my only reader, G. Parker. Your comments have been kind and sweet. I do appreciate your continued reading of...

I'm watching my grandson again today. He's adorable and full of energy and I love spending time with him. He lights up my world, especially as I see him gaining new skills through his therapy. I handed him a chicken nugget today and he said, "Thank you Nana" Not many other people would have recognized those words, but I did. And my entire being smiled. We've had a month or so without my grandson's father being in the picture. It's been the nicest, smoothest month since the beginning of his entry into our lives. He's coming back on Friday. My daughter, finally standing up for herself, told him to get a cab from the airport because she has plans. That's progress. Hopefully there will be more progress. Tonight hubby and I will attend a family meeting at a detox center where our son is being treated for heroin addiction. Yea...heroin. It's not something I've been able to talk or write about in the past year, but I can now. What ...