I have no idea what to write.

My children were angry at me all day long. So was the little boy I tended. I thought it was going to be a good day. I have no idea how to feel about it.

My husband was very critical of me today. I feel very lonely, very forgotten. I have no idea how to let that go.  

My house is unkempt, the dishes waiting to be done, the laundry piled--clean and dirty, the floors need to be cleaned, the bathroom scrubbed, the beds need to be made up with new bed clothing, the trashes emptied. I have no idea how to manage it all. I have no idea how it feels to have a well-run home. 

Dinner was chicken pot pies. The crappy, cheap ones. Everyone hated it. No one was pleased. No one cared that I rushed home to make sure there was something to eat. That they wouldn't go to bed hungry. I have no idea be the homemaker they expect me to be. 

My solo in church yesterday was a disaster. I have no idea how I could have prevented that. 

My resources are so limited. I have no idea how to make it all work. 

My calling scares me. It requires so much of me to make it happen. I have no idea how I'm going to be able to keep going.

My energy is gone. I have no idea how to get it back. 

My faith is wavering, it feels smaller than a seed. I have no idea how it is going to sustain me.

My efforts seem so pale to what is required, what is needed to be responsible and confident and sure of myself, of life, of the future. I don't have anything else to give. What I can offer is not enough, I am always behind. I have no idea how to settle for such meager accomplishments. 

My blog seems like a waste of time. It seems to be a drain of my last little bit of energy at the day. I don't think anyone cares what I have to say, especially when life is so dark right now, so scary and chaotic and unnerving. No one wants to read what's really going on with me. They don't want to hear about the demons, the hardships, my dark thoughts and frustrations and fears. I have no idea why I keep posting. 

I have no idea what to write. Other than the truth. The truth is...the truth is that I'm a failure. I have failed. I am not enough. I don't have what it takes to be strong and resilient during the most damn awful trials I have ever been through. The truth is that I don't get to move past these wounds or these crosses to bear, to make progress. I am a failure. I have bad luck. I am forgotten. I have been sent here to fail over and over and over again. The truth is that I don't have it in me anymore. The truth is that I have been beaten. It's over and I've failed. And I have no idea how to wake up to that tomorrow and live with it. I guess I'll just be a failure day after day. Because it doesn't get any better, doesn't make a difference how hard I try, what new mantra I learn or conference talk that I read to inspire me to keep going or goals that I set or baby steps that I take. It is what it is. Hopeless. And it's only going to get worse.