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Ever since coming back from Georgia, we’ve been dropping like flies.

Okay. Bad analogy as we are not dying and it hasn’t happened one by one.

Soooooo…………what am I trying to say?

I have no freaking clue.

The boy has been so sick and not eating and not drinking, the girl had a fever of 103. The husband has a “man cold” so as soon as he comes home from work; he collapses on the couch with his near death experience.

Today things seem to look up. The girl no longer sounds like she’s a Darth Vader impersonator and my son ate! My husband? Is still plagued from the man cold and it seems to be an incurable case.

But here’s the thing. What about me? No one seems to remember me.

You see I? The one who has been struggling with depression? The one who just struggles to stay in this house with these people who need me? The one who would rather sleep the day away than anything?

I? Who dream of running away in any way/shape/form? The one who is supposed to hold it together?

Is holding it by strings. Not even. I can barely breathe myself – asthma sucks yo – it’s a miracle I even get out of bed. Simply from the fact alone that getting out of bed summons all the strength I can muster. Mentally and physically. Each step I take, my feet feel heavier and heavier.

I look to The Lord and I’m just like “God help me please. I can’t get through this day” and somehow I get through.

This unending void. This hole seems a lot less suckier. I’m still in it. Cause like Philippians says: I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

I often wondered about that verse. What did it mean? Well now I know. When I can’t even fathom doing anything, when life just seems to much to handle. I lean … No. I fall on The Lord and He gets me through.

Sorry for the word vomit. I just needed to vent. Oh also wanted to add here: I hate Georgia and over my dead body are we ever going back.

Yes. I am that petty that I blame this whole funk and plague on the trip to down there.

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