The past few days, I've felt emotionally and physically exhausted. I've been through some major changes in the past six months—getting married, buying a house, moving (twice), adjusting to a five-person household (seven-persons on weekends), tripled living expenses, the legal ramifications of my 14-year-old daughter moving in with me, my wife being in the hospital for a week, teaching a weekly Bible class, and being involved in a new startup Internet business.

It's enough to bring anyone to the point of a nervous breakdown. I can't imagine how people without recovery tools survive. I do have the tools, and I haven't handled it well at all.

In the middle of a three-ring circus, it's easy to forget about the recovery tools and feel like your sinking in the storm. It's reminded me of how most, if not all, of my readers feel when they write me - overwhelmed.

Yesterday, I stayed home from church. I got up and got dressed, but couldn't motivate myself to get out the door. I sat down on the floor, at the foot of the bed, and just cried. I let myself have a super-duper pity party for about 30 minutes—and it felt wonderful.

Then, I got up and went on with my day. Today I feel OK, but not serene, balanced, or adjusted. I feel out of sorts, unsynchronized, and a little dazed by the realization of everything that's happened in my life over the past six months.

Yes, sometimes even those of us in recovery for years lose ourselves in the struggle. It's a struggle that never really goes away - recovery just helps you manage and cope and keep your sanity. Every life gets unmanageable now and then. It's a normal part of life. At least, that's what I've been telling myself lately.

One thought I've held onto throughout today—maybe tomorrow will be better. Right now, just that little bit of hope is keeping me going.

Thank you, God for reminding me that life is sometimes messy. Thank you for helping me cope with reality right now. Amen.

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