Demons

Last week I taught a lesson on how to find your personal testimony.  It was perfect for me, as I have struggled with this my entire life.  I am beginning to understand, with much regret, I will probably always have this cross to bear.  We all have our own. This is one of mine.
The lesson went better than I could have expected.  I prepared every day last week.  Studied my scriptures every night, prayed, I really felt like it was on my mind every step of the way.  All the time, this studying, was strengthening me.  The spirit was so strong that day in class.  The girls were engaged, I felt inspired on what to say, and when to say it.  It was such a great experience.
I came home refreshed, with a new found hope that I had been missing for too long.  I knew I had a testimony, and it felt so good to be grounded again.  I went into this last week with new direction, motivation and goals to do things better.  I was going to have the spirit with me, do things better by my family and by my Father in heaven.
Demons.  They know when to strike.  In my past, it is usually when I am feeling lost.  I didn't expect them this time.  I was not prepared for such an intrusion.  This week was one of the worst I have had in 10 years.  Things started off bad, and just got worse and worse until I was in a hole so deep and dark, I couldn't look up and see light.  My demons knew I was getting stronger.  They knew I was treading somewhere that terrifies them.
I read my Brothers blog today, questioning the intelligence of posting your journal online for the world to see.  To write your most personal thoughts in a place that has no beginning or end, no way to get them back once they are sent.  I loved his courage to do it anyways.  It gave me the nudge I needed to write more truthfully here.  I was always a little nervous to write about my journey through the gospel.  It is such a sacred, personal thing.  I believe the way for me to survive, to get through my dark times, to fight off the demons of my past and present - is to put them on blast.  I need to write about it, learn from it, and pick myself up again.  The times of joy are so easy to write about, and believe me, there are lots of those times.  I have found myself silenced by my own cowardliness when things get tough.  I have finally found no need to pretend there is no struggle.
What I have taken from this week is not that I have won.  No, that has not come yet.  It is that I am still here.  I have not given up hope.  I know that when my love of the Savior is growing, my trials seem to get harder, at least for now.  I am so very thankful for Sundays.  I need to be surrounded by the love that bolsters my testimony and gives me strength to rise up again, and do it better.