On my bed lies a 2 month old roly-poly beautiful baby boy sleeping after a successful nursing session.
Two little girls are moving through their morning routines, pausing to greet me and ask me questions as they feed the guinea pig and/or pour their own milk for breakfast.
One medium-sized girl is reading on her bed.
My husband and 3 oldest are at the temple, sharing spiritual experiences of eternal importance.
It rained this morning, and the sun is coming out; the lawn and woods are an astonishing emerald green.
I have an exquisitely beautiful life.
I know this with every rational part of my mind.
But, in spite of medication, I am lost in a fog that both infuriates and frightens me.
I have questions--
Do I need a higher dose of meds?
Do I simply need exercise and better eating habits? (Without doubt, these would help, but in my current mental state I just cry when I think of the work involved in getting started.)
Should I consult a mental-health professional?
Should I confide in a trusted spiritual leader?
Should I wait it out?
I was doing quite well for a while, but then some disappointing news threw me for a loop, and I can't figure out how to rise above it and get hold of the faith that I know is somewhere within.
I am frustrated because I KNOW I am blessed; I KNOW I am a daughter of a loving Heavenly Father who holds me firmly and lovingly even (especially) when life gets hard; I KNOW I am surrounded by daily miracles.
But instead of feeling gratitude I feel rather as if I'm missing something--as if I've been denied an invitation to a party to which everyone else has been invited.
That's a sadly self-pitying and selfish way to feel.
I prefer a state of gratitude.
How do I get that back?
I have a hunch it has something to do with this idea:
"When those moments come and issues surface, the resolution of which is not immediately forthcoming, hold fast to what you already know and stand strong until additional knowledge comes."
So, I KNOW I am blessed, and I will hold to that until I feel it permeate every fiber of my being. I have felt so before, and I will feel so again.