Almost every single morning I lay in bed and think… today is it.  Today is the day I will turn the corner. Today is a fresh start and a chance to do things well.  You just have to get up and claim it.  And I really believe its true, this idea of positive energy and creating your own life.

I don’t remember when it started to be difficult to get out of bed in the morning.  I honestly can’t remember life before Tim was diagnosed.  I don’t think I ever sprang out of bed like Tigger, eager to tackle the day.  But I also don’t remember laying in bed wishing I didn’t have to get up.  Wishing I wasn’t a grown-up with responsibilities.  Wishing I could just pull the covers up over my head for another day or two.  For sure I know I wasn’t laying in bed, desperate to not be the single mother and widow that I am.

I guess some days it’s self pity.  But most days it isn’t really that.  It’s not that I feel sorry for myself or think “Why me?”  It’s just that I wish circumstances weren’t what they are.  I don’t want the responsibility of every decision on my shoulders.  Will there ever be day when someone will happily take on my life with me?  Will I be able to happily take on their’s in return?

 A day to focus on thankfulness.  I believe in it with all my heart.  I know I have a life full of love and blessings and amazing people.  I have a healthy, full of piss and vinegar son.  I know my attitude is mine to choose.  I know it.  I believe it.  I’m determined.

And yet, I’ve been upright less than an hour and I am full of tears.  And emptiness.  And sadness.  Shit, not again.