I wish it were easier to tell what in the world God wanted me to do with my life.

I wish my faith were stronger.

I wish writing that didn’t make my eyes well up with tears.

I wish I had a better idea what I am working towards.

Why I’m here.

What difference, if any, I’ll make.

I hate that I so often still feel like no one to everyone.

Invisible.

Unimportant.

I hate that my husband came home and instead of giving me a hug, criticized the lunch I sent with him overnight.

Because I really needed that hug for no reason.

And I hate myself for it.

Because I know I used to be so much stronger than I am now.

Confidence stripped away by a series of unfortunate events that’s led me to question.

Everything.

And everything I thought I was, and thought I knew…

It’s all gone.