My bags are packed I'm on the guilt trip

Lately, I've been grieving.  POTS has changed my life (I feel as though I have lost my identity, my freedom, my life at times), my family's life (my husband has pushed back his calling to go to seminary, lost his free time, has taken on two full time jobs, my baby has lost the active and fun mom he once had)and even my friend's lives (some of them have stood by me as if they were family and some have disappeared).  Grief is a tricky thing to deal with.  

Over the last couple of days, I have shut down.  I've been extremely sick and I am ashamed to say at times have lashed out at my family in anger.  Honestly, I'm not mad at them.  They did nothing wrong.  It's me.  I'm frustrated (to put it lightly.)  I've had a lot of guilt that I've been carrying around.  I know, I know...that is not from God.  My husband reminds me of this until he is blue in the face.  He keeps telling me that yes it is normal but it's what you do with those feelings that matter.  Do you dwell upon them?  Or do you dismiss them?  Is it really that black and white?  For example, the other night I was watching the news and there was a story about a boy that had been bitten by a rattlesnake.  They showed his wounds and I have to admit they looked pretty bad.  The news reporter talked about how the boy spent five days in the hospital...but was expected to return to school on Monday.  Oh!  I felt my blood boil with rage...(I know that this is not a normal response to a story of this nature.  As a Christian woman, I should be praising God for his recovery.)  Instead I was angry!  I heard the boy say how he was so thankful to make it though and how he learned so much from his time in the hospital.  I'm sorry, all I was thinking was five days in the hospital and he's healed???  Where do I sign up for that gig?  Let's go!  Then the guilt set in.  How dare I feel sorry for myself when there are people with terminal cancer who would trade places with me in an instant.  I feel guilty. 

Next to my bed I have a post it note with Matthew 16:23 written on it.  It is the first thing I see in the morning when I wake up.  "Get behind me Satan, you are a stubbling block to me.  You do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns."  I recite this over and over in my head all throughout the day.  I have prayed until I have just run out of words.  I go to God and simply beg for help these days.  "I don't know what to ask for anymore I tell him."  I feel like he isn't there (of course I know he is) but I can't feel him, I can't hear him...I just uuuuugggggghhhhh. 

Today at church I cried to the point I had to physically leave the sactuary.  I left my precious little boy as I was wheeled away he was screaming and crying for me.  He doesn't understand.  He acts out and yells for me when he knows I am sick.  He can tell a difference between my good days and my bad days.  How does such a small child understand so much?  The heart that I prayed for everynight while he was in my belly is truly inside that little guys chest.  I feel guilty for his pain.  I feel guilty that he begs to go outside and can't because I can't be left alone.  I feel guilty for everything my husband does and everything my illness is holding him back from.  I have the most amazing husband in the world.  He'd give up everything for me without a second thought...so why do I feel so guilty?  I didn't bring this illness on myself.  I've never been one to ask for help.  I've always prided myself in being an independent person.  Now I am dependent in every sense of the word.

I love my Father in Heaven with all of my heart.  His plan just doesn't make sense to me.  Not that I think I am worthy of knowing his plan...but it is so hard to see him preform such miracles in people's lives and not know why he has not done the same for me.  I wonder if I'm doing something wrong, if there is a lesson to be learned that I have just not grasped yet.  If so, I really wish he would knock me on the head with it!  I go back and forth with peace.  There are periods of time where I feel as though I have come to terms with my illness and that I am ready to make changes, to make my life the best it can be... given the situation.  For example, leaving our house, moving to an apartment that I can walk around a little bit better, filing for disability.  I've tried to embrace it.  Then there are the times where I get so tired of people telling me "you're going to get better...I just know it!  God is going to heal you."  Well, what if he doesn't why is that not ok with anyone?  Personally, I want to move on.  I want to know that I am going to be sick or I want to be healed.  I'm tired of riding this emotional rollar coaster...where is the exit?