I ask not for a lighter burden, but for stronger shoulders.

I feel so powerless lately!

I MISS MY CAR. My mom's car got repo'd Wednesday morning. Since I only work 15 minutes north of home but she works 45 minutes south of home, it's easier for me to catch a ride with someone than it is for her, so she takes my car. I no longer have the freedom to come and go as I please, my schedule is dictated by the people around me. And none of it is my fault! My mom never helped me get a car or let me drive hers - which is why I didn't learn to drive till I was 24. But now I am stuck paying the price for her bad decisions. It makes me SO ANGRY.

There are things in my future over which I have no control, and we're encountering stalls and setbacks at every turn. Every day that something else gets in the way of our plans, I just break down entirely. I want to have faith but it's so difficult!

I had another test Monday for my cervical dysplasia, and this is the worst part - waiting for the results. I'm trying to be positive - after all, the news last time was good - but the worst-case-scenario voice in my head won't shut up.

And while I was with my doctor, I talked to her about getting off the Prozac. It's definitely taken care of my depression - that cold, hollow feeling is gone, has been for a while - but since I've been on it I've been so much worse. Since I've been on it I've crossed the line between not wanting to live and flat out wanting to die. I think it's better for me and those closest to me if I quit taking it! So now I have to wait for it to work its way out of my system and hope that when it does, I'll go back to normal.

My weight is OUT OF CONTROL. This is the biggest I've ever been. But all the stress and the anger and the worry and the frustration are exhausting; I'm tired ALL THE TIME, I don't sleep well at night. So not only can I not find the strength to work out, but I'm drinking a ton more soda trying to stay awake at work!

But I'm not totally powerless. This weekend at some point I'm going to buy the stuff so I can have a salad for lunch every day and healthy snacks instead of junk. And I'm working on my Cognitive Behavioral Therapy - I have a few apps on my phone for it, plus I signed up for an account at Mood Gym.

The say that sometimes God calms the storm, and other times he lets the storm rage and calms the child instead. I can handle that. I'm looking forward to a little calm this weekend.

I never liked math anyhow.

I'm not getting on the scale anymore.

I used to weigh myself every single day - well, every day that I worked - and that stupid number had the power to make or break my day.

I haven't run in about three weeks, first because I didn't have time in the days leading up to my trip, then because I was gone, and now because I've been sick since I came home. I miss it, though, and I'm hoping to get started again next week. And I'm going to restart the 100 Pushups Challenge - and stick with it - as well as the 150 Dips. And I'd like to find time to do Pilates again, maybe once or twice a week.

And I want to start eating more fruits and veggies, because they make me feel good. And the more good stuff I have in my tummy, the less room I'll have for chips and fries and bacon cheeseburgers and pepperoni pizza and chicken nuggets. But I'll still eat those things too, because I like them.

I know that doing these things will affect that number on the scale. But that's not why I want to do them. Nor is it about how my body looks or what size clothes I wear - another arbitrary and useless number! I'll be doing it for the way it makes me feel. Doing it so I become capable of things I'm not capable of right now. So I feel good and well and fit and healthy.

But I'm not a slave to numbers anymore.

It never goes smooth.

I'm getting off the meds, which is probably why I'm so dizzy I can hardly stand, why it feels like my brain keeps inflating like a balloon. I'll see the doctor again, but I have a hunch I just have to ride it out. I KNEW that it would get worse before it gets better. And I'm getting better at distinquishing between dreams and reality. I just wish I knew for sure what's wrong with me.

Otherwise...I'm happy. I comprehend the word "serenity" and I know peace. I'm sponsoring a girl in the program, which is challenging, but rewarding. I helped my roommate celebrate her birthday this weekend - and it was a better day for me than any birthday I've had in years! I'm making new friends...and family.

Saturday night I got to sit next to my friend's darling son while he drew pictures for me, then he turned to his mom and said "Can my aunt Jacki come over and see my hamster?"

I am truly blessed.

The window's cracked, I'm looking out.

I passed my neuro tests. My bloodwork came back normal.

We don't know why I'm losing my mind.

I'm coping with my stress...right? I have my moments when I curl up in bed and cry, or when I want to. But I think I'm okay.

But then...why does my brain feel so disconnected from my body? Why can't I tell my dreams from my reality?

They want to double my meds. They think I'm not coping as well as I think I am.

I want OFF the meds. I think they might be screwing me up...although why now, after four months, I don't know. But what if they're right and I'm wrong? What if I quit the meds when I need them most? I really don't want this to get worse.

I don't know. I guess I'll try praying harder.

The indescribable sadness of a car with bench seats.

I spent 16 straight hours in bed yesterday. Just sleeping or lying there, not watching movies, not reading, not knitting, not gaming. Just...trying not to exist. I think it's a new record for me. I went to Wichita with dad to get my new car, and when I got home I simply crawled into bed and stayed there.

I know some of it is nerves about my cervical biopsy tomorrow. And to an extent, it's always going to be like this. It'll never just go away. I could go years testing okay just to have it come back out of the blue. The only way to be completely free of this means sacrificing my ability to have children, and I'm not ready to do that.

And the rest of it is just depression. The sorrow, the loneliness, the pain, the anger.

It will get better. I know it will. I will be okay. I know I will.

Someday.

Slipping through my fingers.

I want a baby so much. My own tiny person, my own part of me, that I can love and raise and teach all the things it took me so long to learn myself. A little light that will keep shining after I burn out.

Time is running out. I've felt this way for a while, but before it was just the reproductive viability timeline - the drastically increased risk of birth defects that comes with pregnancy after age 35.

Now I'm 27 and have pre-cancerous cells on my cervix.

My life has now become a game of watching and waiting. My future is full of excruciatingly unpleasant tests, which will tell me when the time has come for treatments that will make it difficult (or impossible) to have a baby.

It's so hard to rely on my faith right now. I know that God has a plan for me that I can't hope to understand, but when my heart cries out for something like this it is hard to ignore.

If the dream isn't real, is the lie worth defending?

I think I'm in shock.

I haven't cried since the 17th, when I confessed at the Monday night meeting that I very nearly took my life.

When I fell and hit my head last week and I hurt so badly in so many places, I didn't cry.

When I found out mama lost her job, throwing a wrench in the machinations of being a family again, I didn't cry.

When I scheduled a painful invasive medical procedure that is likely only the first in a long battle, I didn't cry.

When I realized that I have to quit force-feeding myself and just wait until my stomach cramps and nausea - which I've had since Sunday night - go away, I didn't cry.

People ask me how I am and I smile and tell them I'm good. I go to meetings, I do my studies and meditations, I pray.

My sleep is tortured; every night, a new nightmare. I wake in pain from the tension in my body.

And yet, I smile. I say I'm fine.

I'm starting to worry about what it's gonne feel like when I stop being fine.