At the Bottom

This is what it is like at the bottom.  My faith is still there, and always will be, because with God there is always hope and He has the answers; He is in control, and I just have to walk one step at a time, listening to Him speak to my gut.

But today is very difficult.  Pressures are building up as I can't be on my normal "get out of the house every day because I have decent help" routine.  I've been home too much, on top of which Vince is sleeping more and eating less.  We've had these low days before—for both of us—so not really new; but being trapped in here watching him sleep and watching him roll yogurt around in his mouth without swallowing it makes me kind of crazy.  I can't focus well on anything; I'm getting the basics done, but am filled with anxiety.

I know we are living on a very tenuous, narrow bridge between life and death.  I pray and pray that I am doing things the right way; in my saner moments, I am more confident and feel God's guidance.  But I am getting too isolated now inside of my head and inside these walls.  Sometimes there is nothing else to do but face the fear and the grief and the sadness and loneliness, walking one step at a time, crying if needed, and just hanging onto the faith that God will guide me safely through the horrendous storms of indecision and worrying that there is more I should do, even though I know there isn't.  I have done so much for Vince; no one would have done more.  Just keep going one small step at a time . . . . until I am up and running again, and I will be.