I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed (although I do pride on myself on being somewhat sharp), I can still recognize a sign when it’s flashed my way. And this week, the signs were all around.

This past week, I felt my anxiety level mounting, and I felt myself beginning to vent it onto my children. Shame on me, I hear you. But this is my safe place, so no judgement please. Nothing new had happened, nothing out of the ordinary, just my patience level was wearing thin this week, and instead of enjoying my boys, they were starting to, **GASP** annoy me. The bickering and whining was taking its toll. For those that know me, they know my children are my life. They take first priority. Before sex. Yes.

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling… it seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Four years ago, if someone would have told me that I would become addicted to narcotics, I would have laughed at them.

My story is a story of joy, despair, hope and healing…