My sleeping schedule...

is messed. It's five thirty in the morning, people. I haven't slept yet.
Somehow, this is someone else's fault. I haven't figured out how, or even who, but it's their fault.
I had one of those weekends. You know what I'm talking about? The really crappy ones that feel like they will never get better? Well, even though mine got better, it was still one of the worst weekends I can remember having.
It wasn't because of anything or anyone in particular. Okay, that's kind of a lie. It was a lot of anythings and a lot of anyones all piling up. There were comments made that broke down the last bit of self esteem that I had. There are feelings between myself and someone else that I still can't figure out, which really stresses me out. My family left for vacation yesterday morning, the first vacation I haven't been able to go on, and I honestly don't feel like they even care.
I really didn't feel like anyone cared about me at all. I know, sob story. Usually when I feel like that, I can prove myself wrong and make myself feel better. But there was something about this time. I couldn't get out of this....depression. Some of my feelings truly scared me. I didn't think I would come out of it anytime soon, and I felt like no one had even noticed.
Alone. That's the best way I can describe it.
When I went to church, it seemed like each talk, each lesson, was directed to me. I was having a hard time appreciating either of my dads for anything they do, and of course the talks were on fathers. I've been doubting I'd ever get an answer to any prayer, and the lesson was about not expecting a big 'tada' moment to answer your prayers, but to find the answers in the little things that happen everyday, or in the things other people do for you. I felt unworthy, not good enough, not pretty enough, not thin enough, and just plain awful, and the thought given was that we are all children of God, and therefore we are always fully and completely loved and cared about.
Finally, after days of sadness, I started to feel better.
Then my new bishop wanted to talk to me. To get acquainted. To know who I am. Talking to him, I started to feel like I was worth something again. His reactions and opinions and thoughts made me proud of my ability to stay positive, regardless of what I've been through growing up. That really hit home, especially because I didn't sugarcoat anything I told him. It was the straight up truth.
And when he gave me a Priesthood Blessing, he said all of the right things. More than what I told him. It was like I was getting a message that all of those things I'd been feeling would be proven wrong. And they were.
Sometimes, I forget how amazing the Gospel is, when all I have to do is look around me at all of the blessings that I am so grateful to call my own.
The end. Show's over.