Life had set the rage, anger, and bitterness in motion, like a snowball, growing and gaining momentum, heading down a mountain side. Heaven knew unless she learned to let go, she would destroy herself like a walking, living time bomb. She seemed to be on a path already set and destined. Every time she would set her mind to be happy, one of life's challenges would come crashing in, knocking her off her feet, sending her whirling and spinning onto another avenue of disappointment and silent rage.

Heaven at times looked outside herself for answers, toward the sky, but would often find no answers there. He, God, seemed to be an imaginative something—somewhere far, far away. Someone who answered at times, but most of the time left her defenseless and hopeless. It was often hit-and-miss with Him; friends and family often making excuses.

She had read that he loved her and supposedly had died that she could have abundant life, but that had not been her experience. Most of the time, Heaven sat in a room weeping, believing life had dealt her a terrible deck of cards, believing she would never find happiness creating law for herself. She would repeatedly rehearse in her heart, her mind, how she was going to seek revenge on the people who had hurt her, only escalating, intensifying the horrid feelings already in her life.

Now at the age of forty, she had come to a place of crisis. Late one evening, while journaling, Heaven realized she had to let it all go. The weight she was carrying wasn't getting her anywhere, very slowly killing her sucking life out of her - experiencing sickness, chronic fatigue, and anxiety at an early stage in life. She was too young. The people, supposedly, causing the havoc in her life were going on with their lives and business as usual.

Heaven continued in deep thought.

*Oh, I'm so tired of life. I'm sick and tired of people taking and when I feel like nothing's left they take some more. I'm sick and tired of driving others, being their silent force. I'm so tired of convincing others to achieve; I'm tired of encouraging. I'm sick and tired of being everything to everybody. Who can I turn to? Who do I talk to?*

This was the constant imaging; voices Heaven heard, not realizing that every time she said she was sick and tired she created a vicious cycle – her subconscious believing, her conscious seeing tiredness and disease.

Heaven was in such a state of tiredness and weariness that even she wasn't sure what would pull her out. She had always carried a façade of strength, and people always saw her as strong as a pillar. It appeared, outwardly, as if she had it all together. But inwardly, in that realm none could see, the soul realm, she was carrying years of hurt; years of disappointment, years of mental anguish and abuse, and mountains of pain. She was carrying decades of how comes, whys, and whens. Heaven had fallen in love with a familiar Bible verse: "They who wait upon the Lord, [He] shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings of eagles, they shall run and not grow weary, they shall walk and not faint." Wait. Heaven had come to realize that God's time was obviously not man's time. What was time? A year, a month, a week, to all-Supreme Power? She also had no true understanding of wait in this particular Bible verse and no reality of its true meaning, but it was quite soothing.

Continuing to journal into the darkest point of night, just before midnight, thoughts flooded her mind.

*Will I ever be any good to anyone ever again? Is there anyone out there who is truly for me, from whose side I have come?*