As I said in yesterday's post, Sundays are so hard.  I woke up yesterday and went to choir practice.  I still struggle with my voice after my thyroid surgery.  I thought I was over it, but evidently I still struggle.  I get that my voice will never be the same, and I am completely grateful that I can sing some versus none at all.  I just never had to strain to sing before my surgery and realistically, I could go back and have singing lessons but even all the training in the world would not stop the fact that there is a range that I just cannot sing.  Gosh, I have to accept a lot of things.

I came home from choir to my children nagging me from the get go.  Do you know that every Sunday it seems that my 11 yr old has to fight me for a tuna fish sandwich?  Yesterday she had to say a talk in Primary, so I got home from choir, did a batch of dishes, wrote a talk, made a batch of rolls for dinner, and she proceeds to get on me because she can't find her skirt.  She tells me "that's ok, I will find something else".  So, yea, one less fight that I have to deal with right?  Well, then it comes time for lunch and she gets made because she doesnt want a turkey sandwich so because she wants me to make a tuna sandwich for her she proceeds to tell me that I only think of myself.  (oh, ok, you are right, I am the only one in this household of 6 that did any cleaning at all this weekend, the only one that cooked the entire weekend, the only one that taught a lesson, wrote a talk, did the laundry... but you are absolutely right, I only think of myself!)  When I told her I knew what she was doing and it wasn't going to work with me today I told her it was "not my problem".  So, now not only do I only think of myself, but nothing is ever my problem.  Did I tell you that this happens EVERY SUNDAY?

So, before I can leave for church, I have to get dinner in the crockpot.  So, once again I am late for church.  I hear my therapist telling me that if I miss the sacrament then it is "self injury" so I throw on my Sunday clothes and make it to the chapel just as they close the doors to the chapel.  No biggie, I will sit out here in the foyer.  So as I sit and ponder on my life as I have been taught to do while the sacrament is being passed, I hear me questioning Heavenly Father again in my head.  "What am I supposed to be learning from this?"  "Why is this happening to me and my family?"  So, once again I am an emotional wreck, but that's normal for me and the Sacrament.  As I sit and cry this lady is sitting across from me in the foyer.  I thought I was pretty composed for the emotions that I was feeling.  I closed my eyes and pondered in my head.  She got up and walked across the foyer to sit by me.  OK, that was nice of her to give that chair to the gentleman that just got there!  Right?  No, she came over to sit by me to ask me if I was OK and if I wanted to talk about it?  Really?  The 2nd week in a row that someone has to come up to me and ask how I am doing.  I can't be the only one that sits in the Sacrament and gets emotional.  Even if you just sit and ponder on the Sacrament prayer and you really think on the purpose of the Sacrament, the Savior's sacrifice.  There has got to be more than 1 person that gets emotional.  Again, I hear my therapist say to me that they mean well and that I should take it in that context.  But, in my head, I hear myself saying "are you kidding me?  I am going to stop going to church if someone asks me again."  The thing that sucks is the therapist voice is louder than mine.

Well, I once again let my children talk me into going up to my parents.  But, again, I only think of myself.  I think that I am almost numb to the emotions of being in my parents home.  I don't go downstairs and no, I don't want to confront those emotions especially while my brother's son lives there so there is no reason for me to go downstairs. 

My therapist asked on Friday if I was ready to forgive?  As I walked past the cemetary I thought of my brother and all the hell that I have been thru and in my head I called him an "ass".  So, there you have it, I don't think I am ready to forgive.  Unless that's OK to have those feelings on the other side, but I doubt it.

But, I have to admit I have been thinking a lot on my homework assignment.  Last week my therapist had me write a letter to my 11 yr old self.  OK, I did that, it was hard but I did it because I didn't want to interfere with therapy.  Now, this week's assignment is to reply back to my 41 year old self.  Can I just be done?  I think about it and I just want to cry. 

There is so much that I have to learn from therapy.  So much that I have to accept, so much that I have to let go and change.  I just can't do it.  I can't learn it fast enough to ease my own burdens and pain.  Last night as I went to sleep, I almost wished I didn't have to wake up.  There is just too much.