Bucket of Blessings

My words from two days ago disappeared into the deep dark pit into an empty void… it was a poem entitled Buckets of Blessings. Gone with the wind it seems.  Oh well. Such is life. I have not written for a while.  Silence is my friend..

Life sometimes stares at me and I question how do I get out? What is the meaning of life? The devil has snatched me into a spiral that spirals out of control.  I feel like I am balancing myself on this invisible thread that clings onto life and death and some days are darker than others.  I fade in and out like the tide. I breathe. I exist. I go through the motions of everyday living. I struggle to find meaning. I struggle to understand what has robbed me of joy.

I struggle to get up every morning.  I struggle to keep going.  I cry out to God.  I don’t tell people this but I sit in the shower and cry. I talk to God. I sit in the shower to stop myself brooding.  I sit in the shower asking God for grace. To help me through another day. Some people think I don’t pray. I ask God every day to help me, to give me peace, to do his will not mine. But I struggle. I battle. I fight the battle. I drown in a mire of hatred for myself.

I battle through counselling and the endless maze of grief and wounds not yet healed. Wounds exposed. Wounds that should be buried. Wounds that should be denied the light of day. No one understands the emotions that crash around my body.  No one cares. I feel trapped. I feel defeated. I feel like I am a failure. But I know I am not. Yet I struggle daily to be at peace. I struggle. I struggle.  No one understands.

I am painfully broken.

God, I  need your help please. Jesus come.

 

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