I'm breathing again. Thank God, because I was barely breathing for days, and I was truly afraid. Afraid that this would be the time that the darkness wouldn't retreat...that this would be the end of me.
Yet, here I stand. Not yet quite myself, but not so deep in the pit that I can't see the sun. There is light now, and for now it's enough. I have hope now, and I feel God's strength holding me together, most welcome, most needed. I finally cried out to him yesterday morning, after days and days of holding back my prayers. I knew other people were praying for me, some even strangers to me, and I was so unspeakably thankful for that because I couldn't, or wouldn't perhaps, do it for myself.
With the prayer came a slight lifting, and later I forgave someone a grudge I'd been holding, and more lifting came. Today came worship, and the lifting continued. There is now room in me to not only breathe, but take a deep, cleansing breath...and it feels like hope. I actually feel hopeful.
He is good.
Now I'm trying desperately to let go. Of the fear that grips me, of the anger that rises and rages, of the doubts and confusion that plague my relationship with God...of all illusion of control. Over and over, I've tried to let go and I've failed, more times than I can count, but what else can I do? I try again.