The problem with quotes.

I've been reading particular quote on facebook over the last several days. This quote can be interpreted in a couple different ways. That's the problem with quotes.

The quote I'm talking about reads as follows:

"I don't think the worst thing that could happen to me is having a child with Special Needs. I think the worst thing would be to raise a child who is cruel to people with Special Needs."

I've seen this appear on several of my facebook friends status updates. This quote, which was taken from a someone else's blog, was written by a person who doesn't even have a special needs child. Which, in my eyes, doesn't give them any insight on just what it means to have a special needs child. How can a person who doesn't have a special needs child even know what it's like? They can not. There is just no possible way.

My take on this quote is far, and I mean FAR different than the next guy/gal. You see, in my eyes, being given a special needs child is a blessing. A blessing that people who do not have a special needs child can possible know anything about. Most people who do not have a special needs child are thankful. Lets face it, and be honest. They ARE thankful. Which is so very sad.

Now, I admit, I didn't always think it was a blessing to be given a special needs child. Truth be told, I had never even thought about what it would be like. So when I was hit with the news soon after Carly's birth, that she may have been born with Down syndrome, I was devastated. I was devastated because this was not the child I wanted. Nor the child I dreamed of. How foolish I was thinking like that. Thankfully, that devastation and foolishness only lasted a few days..about 10 to be exact. And by then, I was so in love with my teeny tiny little blessing, that extra chromosome didn't matter to me at all.

As far as a child being cruel to a special needs child. Well, that falls directly on the parents of said, "cruel child". It was my experience, since Carly started going to a public school in kindergarten..it is NOT the child who finds a difference. It's the parent. The parents steer their child into cruelty. It's something the child learns. Something that comes directly from HOME. Something that, in time can fester over the years and turn people completely rotten. Just remember where that came from. HOME.

The kids in Carly's kindergarten and first grade classes loved her. They LOVED our girl. The parents, not so much. We were even told during an IEP meeting, (by a god awful teacher,,who didn't even care for Carly..but that's a whole 'nother subject!) that parents were voicing concerns that our child was being taught side by side with their children. How's that for a kick in the gut? Straight out of the..hold it...dare I say it?? PARENTS mouths. So yeah, a cruel child begins at HOME people! You get out of your kids just what you put into the raising of them. If you show them how to be nasty and cruel, eventually they will pick it up.

I can say what it's like to have a special needs child. I lived it for 8 years. I dealt with the cruel remarks of teachers and staff at the school (all adults). I dealt with hearing from the school, how PARENTS questioned my daughter being taught with their child. Oh my god that broke my heart. Carly was so sweet. Kind and loving. She was gentle and caring. A good natured child. Well behaved, even more so than her fellow, "typical" peers. She was doted on by all of her classmates. I witnessed with my own eyes just how much the kids loved her. I went to the school countless times to observe Carly in action with her peers. Those kids loved her. Those kids insisted that their parents take them to Carly's visitation at the funeral home. Their parents were all at a loss of words at the funeral home. And I made a point to tell them, "you have a special little boy/girl, who you should be so proud of because he/she was such a great friend to our girl." I hope that my words stung those parents. If only for a moment. Those poor classmates cried puddles of tears for our girl. Those kids still talk about our girl. To this day, those kids miss our girl. Thankfully, those idiotic parents hadn't yet rubbed off on their kids by the age of 7. And I hope our girl taught those parents a lesson. The lesson that their kids are capable of accepting a special needs child. Their kids didn't bitch and moan that Carly was in their classroom, learning along side of them. That my friends, is what their parents did. So, yeah,,,the parents do eventually rub off on their kids.

In my opinion there is NOTHING and I mean NOTHING that compares to losing a child. Having a special needs child...really is difficult at times, but so very worth it. Having a cruel child, well people...that's your fault. You teach your kids to be mean and that's what you'll get. A mean, cruel kid. That's up to all you parents out there. But. BUT, having your sweet little 8 year old literally drop dead before your eyes is the absolute worse thing ever. I would take a special needs child or a cruel child, hands down, over a dead one! Everything else in life is pure pettiness folks. Once you have to visit your 8 year old at a cemetery, reality hits you square in the face. The pettiness in life is just that, pettiness.

Please be careful with the quotes you steal from others. . . and don't judge me for my take on them. Because, seriously, if you think you have it bad with a special needs child or a cruel child...step in my shoes for a day. You'd then be very, very thankful.

As I said, my take on this quote may differ greatly than yours. We may all read the same words, but look at those words in a completely different way. That's, the problem with quotes!

***on a side note, I lost a couple facebook friends after I posted my take on this quote. Pettiness people...pettiness.***

Days Go On & I Don't Want To Forget.

Days Go On:

And they suck, but they go on. And it seems as if my days get harder to get through as the days pass. Everything that I do, I am reminded of how much I miss Carly. People who tell you, "it gets better in time", are flat out liars. There is no getting better in time. Not now, and likely, not ever. Possibly because most people have not had to experience the loss of a child. Just like I have not experienced the loss of a parent or a sibling. If you haven't, 'been there, done that' then you really can NOT even begin to imagine. If you must try to imagine, here's what I suggest you do. Cut one of your limbs off and try to function. Trust me, it's damn near impossible!

As the days go on and I do each task around the house, I think of Carly. I always told everyone that she was the best helper that I ever had. I think her most favorite way to help "mama", was helping with the laundry. She helped with the sorting, placing in the washer, placing in the dryer and her most favorite,,,, pulling them out of the dryer and pushing the basket through the house to the living room, where she helped me fold them. Washcloths were her most favorite.Towels pulled a close second. The way we keep our washcloths is a little different than most people. In our main bathroom, I keep a basket on the sink which contains the washcloths for that bathroom. We fold them in thirds and then roll them up and place them into the basket. Each time we did a load of towels/wash cloths, Carly would run to the bathroom and grab the basket and bring it to the living room. She then went on to conquer all the wash cloths on her own. If I even thought about touching one, she quickly put me in my place, "NO, MAMA!" I thought it was a great way to get some OT skills going, without her even realizing it...and best of all, she LOVED it! Now, it's just not the same. I really miss her and the way she wanted to help with the laundry.

Making dinner isn't the same anymore either. Not to mention the empty spot at our table. Carly sat at the head of the table, go figure! I would have her set the table, she loved that too. She always wanted to help me cook. Sometimes I would let her, but I was leery of the the hot stove/oven. Once in a while I would tell her, "go get your step stool out of the bathroom." Off and running she would go. She would place that step stool next to me and stand there just wide eyed and waiting for her "cooking job". That never lasted long though. She too was scared of the "hot" stove/oven. She'd eventually jump down and insist on me turning on the radio. At that point, she ran and found her microphone and came running back to the kitchen singing at the top of her lungs and dancing all around the kitchen. I have some video's of that, but I haven't been able to watch any of her video's yet. I've tried, but just can't click the play button. Some day, I will share those video's with you all. But not today.

There really is nothing that doesn't remind us of Carly. She was the heart and soul of this entire house. She lit it up. She was our little ray of sunshine on our worse possible days.


I Don't Want To Forget:

I'm going to start writing in a journal. For the simple reason, I DO NOT want to forget ANYTHING that Carly said or did. Be it silly or naughty, such as flipping the bird. Although, I don't think I will ever forget the fact that my soon to be 24 year old taught my baby girl how to flip the bird. The odd thing was, Carly knew just when to use that naughty little finger. She always used it appropriately....well, you know what I mean.... I know it's not appropriate to even use it, but I think you know what I mean.

Just the other day, Paul was walking through the house with his shirt off. I found myself pulling one of Carly's famous little stunts. I stuck my finger straight into his bellybutton. Just the way Carly always did. She had a thing for bellybuttons. Believe me, her thing for bellybuttons was NOT pleasant. She would stick her finger so far in, that you would swear she stuck it all the way through to your backbone! Paul almost cried. Not sure if it was from the pain of my finger in his bellybutton, or because it was Carly's thing. Sadly, he had forgotten about Carly and her bellybutton poking until that very moment. The fact that he had forgotten made us both sad. We do not want to forget anything about her. Soooo,,,I bought a journal and I plan on getting busy and writing in it. You never know how easy it is to forget the small things until your mind is a jumbled up mess. And I Don't Want To Forget anything!

Medication

This is what you're left with after the sudden unexpected loss of your child.

I hate the fact that I have to take these med's.

I hate the fact that I need them to get through the day.

Depending

On

Medication

To

Get

Through

The

Loss

Of

Your

Child

SUCKS!

Personally, I'd like to throw them all away, but my doctor says
"you HAVE to be on these med's."
Truthfully, I HAVE to have them.
Can't get through my days without the stupid med's.
Like I said.
It SUCKS!

September 25

Six years ago today, almost to the exact time that I'm sitting here typing, Paul and I were given the words that no parent ever want to hear. Leukemia. Oh my gosh were we devastated with that news.

I sat holding a very sick little 2 year old in my arms. Being scolded by the "head" ER doctor. That "your daughter is very, very sick". Of course, I fired back with my big mouth. "No kidding, why do you think we're sitting in the fricken ER"?

Our heads continued to spin as we were told Carly was gravely ill. Her platelets were next to nothing. Her liver, extremely HUGE; as the one doctor had put it. Her hemoglobin almost nonexistent. Her white count was through the roof.

From that point forward. We thought our lives had just ended. What news could possibly be worse than hearing that your 2 year old has leukemia? Now I know. We started hearing words like Oncology, Oncologist, blasts, spinal taps, bone marrow aspirations, blood counts, broviac lines, ports. Being asked almost instantly, "does she have siblings"? "how, many siblings and are they sisters or brothers or both"?

We learned late that night, after being admitted that Carly had been diagnosed with AML (which is the most common form of leukemia for kids born with Down syndrome) leukemia. We were told how our treatments would be. 6 months of very intense chemo. Ideally, 3 weeks spent inpatient to receive the chemo and a couple weeks at home waiting for counts to recover. Then back inpatient again. This news was given to us by the a female resident doctor, who told us she had gone down to the lab herself and viewed the slides of Carly's blood work. She delivered the news to us about midnight on the 25th. By this time, Carly was receiving red blood and platelets. Still, our heads were spinning.

Early the next morning, on Sept 26, we met our Oncologist. He came in to our room and sat down telling us about a completely different type of leukemia. ALL leukemia. He went on to tell us that this was the "best" form of childhood leukemia. If you had to pick one for your child to have, you'd definitely want this one. He went on to tell us how the survival rate is much higher. And how the treatments are not as harsh. And that they can cure this one with like a 90+% rate. He continued on telling us of the treatment plan. 26 months. Yeah.... our mouths dropped. We then explained that we were already told she had AML. That the resident told us she looked at the slides from the blood work herself. Needless to say, he was NOT happy with that resident doc! And so, our heads were spinning again. Being hit with a whole new plan. Hearing 26 months worth of treatment didn't sound like something better to us. Verses 6 months... it sounded so much worse.

Soon after our talk with the Oncologist, we started receiving information regarding ALL. Reading about all the dangers involved. Reading about all the side effects. Realizing we were in for a very, very long haul.

So, today goes on. Not how we expected it to be, six years later. We never thought for one minute that Carly would not win her fight with leukemia. She had proved herself a determined and strong little girl twice before, with both open heart surgeries. Sure, there were times we nearly lost her throughout those 26 month; all of which were due to chemo drugs. But we never doubted that she would beat cancer. Beat cancer she did. She went into remission on the 14th day of treatment. Full remission. Zero blasts in her blood. Perfectly clear bone marrow.

Just the other day, I told my counselor that I feel so cheated. Cheated due to all those years of treatment. Treatment which caused our lives to be changed. Treatment that caused us to spend so much time inpatient with blood infections and fevers and dehydration from chemo. I feel cheated that we didn't have our happy, healthy little girl longer in our lives. She was taken so quickly, with no warning whatsoever. We NEVER saw this coming. EVER. We feel as if we only had about 3 1/2 healthy years with her. Well, that's not true. She was healthy from the age of 4months to 2years. In between heart surgery 1 & 2. But then, three months to the day of being discharged from heart surgery #2, came the diagnosis of leukemia. So anyway, yeah... I think we were cheated.

Now we sit here wondering, why?? Why she's no longer here. Yes, I know it was all heart related, but why? I know there are so many of you who believe in God. Right now, me and God aint good. At all. I will never understand a God who allows a child to go through so much sickness. Why doesn't he heal them? A God who snatches a child right out of the clear blue and does nothing to step in and turn it all around. What kind of God does that to a child? Not one I want much to do with. Even tho, I still want so desperately to believe that Carly is an Angel in heaven right now. She'd darn well better be after going thru all the crap she has endured in 8 short years. Maybe there's hope for me and God yet...but right now...I'm PISSED off at that so called God!

FYI: September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month.
Also, children born with Down syndrome have an 80% greater chance of developing leukemia than other children. As I said above, usually these kiddo's develop AML. Carly was one of the very few with All.

Grief Counseling

Yesterday, Paul and I were suppose to start seeing a grief counselor. Well, it didn't go as planned. I was a little ticked off. But, what else is new these days?!

After several weeks of trying to contact a group who supports bereaved parents, I threw in the towel. They wouldn't return my calls or emails. What a kind of support group is that? Not one I want to be a part of.

Finally, I put a call in to grief counselor that our family doctor recommended. Gave the NP (nurse practitioner) all of our insurance information and a brief summary of why we were in need of grief counseling. The NP then told me that she would contact our insurance company and get everything pre-approved. The very next day my phone rang and low and behold it was the NP. Except what she told me..floored me and her as well. She said, "I'm sorry Mrs. George, your insurance company will not allow you and your husband to be seen here. They say we're out of their network". Great. Back to square one!

Nearly two weeks ago, I called our insurance company and asked them just what we were suppose to do? We needed a grief counselor. I was told that we could only see who they told us we could see...so I then asked, what if we don't like this counselor? What if it isn't working out the way we think it should be? Or what if I don't care for the counselor and Paul does? Or, what if we would rather be seen one on one and not together? Weeelllll, the answer was, "call back and we'll have to re-pre-approve you both. UGH!

Last weekend I finally received a call from a grief counselor who is "in network". Except, trying to find a time for Paul and I to go together seems to be nearly impossible. (Paul has crazy work hours!) But, we were all set up to go last night for our first session, which was scheduled at 8pm last night. At 5pm I start calling Paul. The calls went to voice mail. I called again and again and again...all calls went to voice mail. At 6:17pm, he finally answered. He FORGOT! There was no way he could make it from down town Detroit in time. Sooooooo, now to reschedule.

The grief counselor suggests meeting with us both first and then doing one on one sessions. She told me that we could do which ever way we wanted, be it together, or separate. She also mentioned that people grief so much differently and men and women have different ways of grieving too, she finds it actually does each parent better to meet with her one on one. So, now were back to trying to find a spot on her schedule. It doesn't help that she is going on vacation all next week. I guess we've hung on this long, we can wait another week or so.

After Paul finally got home last night. He said out loud, what I knew he had been thinking for the past 4 months. God it kills me to type 4months. But, tomorrow will be exactly 4months to the day of losing Carly. It just so happens to be Paul's 45th birthday as well. I'm betting that tomorrow is going to really suck. More so than every Friday since April 23. Okay, sorry got off track. Back to what Paul said. I knew eventually this would come out and last night it did. His words to me were, "Joany, I did CPR and brought her back". "I saved her". "What happened after that"? I knew this was eating away at him. But it's the first time he's ever mentioned it. He has so much to work through. As we all do, but with him, I fear that he feels he failed her. I tried to talk to him in a way that would ease those thoughts. I told him that he did save her that day. She would have passed away in our living room had he not been home. She was not breathing and was blue/purple all over her entire body. He did save her. We know now that she had a very narrow window of opportunity there to save her after what we all assume was cardiac arrest (we still have to meet with the cardiologist). For some reason that we will never understand..things went terribly wrong in that ambulance.

I'm hoping that grief counseling will help us both. Especially since, it will soon be Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year followed by Carly's birthday. We need to get ourselves ready for some very rough times ahead. We need to have some tools in place to help get us through. Right now, neither of us know just how to go about that. We are having a hard enough time getting through each day.

Why?

Seems like the word "why", keeps popping into my everyday life now. I hate that word. Likely because there is no answer to it. Every single day, I sit and think to myself, "why"?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Why did a seemingly healthy, precious little 8 year old, suddenly die?

Why were there no warning signs that anything was going on with her heart?

Why didn't that ambulance get her to UofM?

Why could the ambulance only get her to a small community hospital?

Why didn't things go differently in that ambulance?

Why didn't I climb in to that ambulance with Paul?

Why am I left, here to go on without her?

Why should we even attempt to go on?

Why bother getting up each day?

Why eat?

Why sleep?

Why not sleep?

Why can't I sleep?

Why don't I cry as often as Paul?

Why does he cry as often as he does?

Why do I feel guilty for not crying?

Why do I feel guilty when I do cry?

Why do I try to hide my tears?

Why can't I watch video's of Carly?

Why does the sound of her voice on those video's bother me so?

Why, if there is a God, didn't he save my precious girl?

Why, if there is a God, did he do this to our family?

Why do people avoid us?

Why do people think we should be 'getting back to normal'?

Why? Why? Why?

A question that we never seem to get an actual answer to. Guess that's "Why", I hate it so!

Walking Thru the Gates of Hell.

Many times, as I would sit at Mott's Hospital with Carly going through one of her many hospital stays. I often times would see families who were going through so much more than we were. Even though, many times, Carly was teetering on the edge of being sent to ICU.

As I sit here today and recall those families that I encountered back then. The families who were just told that their child had 3 weeks to live. Yep,,,witnessed that. That their child had relapsed and would have to begin chemo again. Yep,,, witnessed that too, more times than I can count. Or the families who had children being sent to ICU with very grim outlooks. Course, from a heart mom stand point, I saw kids in ICU one night, but the next morning they were gone. Which I quickly found out was NEVER a good sign. I've been chased out of the Cardiothoracic ICU more times than I can count, due to a child coding. All I could think was, "thank God it's not my kid". Even though she did have her share of close calls. Way too close. I must admit I would think, "glad they are the one's having to go thru this HELL, I couldn't do it".

I would often sit in our room, thinking just how bad we had it. Pretty much feeling sorry for myself. Even though, someone else was getting ten times worse than we were. I was just so relieved that it them and not us.

One night, Carly's oncologist came in to our room. Carly was inpatient with a fever. All you cancer moms know, a fever over 100.5 bought you a sure fire ticket as "inpatient". I was a wreck. We were waiting for blood cultures to come back to see if in fact Carly was positive for a blood infection. While heading to the bathroom, which at Mott's is down the hall and could be quite a hike, depending on what room you were in. Anyway, I overheard a mother, a very young mother, being told by the "team" of doctors, that her daughter had only 3 weeks to live. The daughter, I'll call "E", was well aware of what was going on. "E" was 6 or 7 and had a brain tumor. Chemo wasn't working on her any longer. I got to the bathroom and was just about ready to throw up, when someone knocked---in need of using the bathroom too. I quickly washed my hands and practically ran back to our room. I wanted to forget that I had just heard those words about "E". I must have looked like a ghost, because the Oncologist and nurse asked me if I was okay. Once the nurse left, I told Carly's Oncologist what I had heard. She apologized to me for having to hear that. She said, and she was right, "the door should have been closed". The words that our Oncologist said to me that night, I will never forget. She said, " just when you think you're walking thru the gates of Hell...there is always someone else who can top your pain and suffering".

Later that night, I made a candy bar and coke run down to the floor below. You might know, I got to the elevators and there sat "E's" mom. On her cell phone. She was crying and talking to her mom. I kept hoping those doors would open. But they took forever. I didn't want to hear about her HELL. I had my own HELL at the moment. But, I heard everything she was saying to her mother. "the doctor gave "E" 3 weeks tops mom. the tumor took out her brain stem". At that point, I almost fainted. Finally the doors opened. I was on the elevator bawling my eyes out. Realizing, that poor mother was about to walk straight thru the gates of HELL. Losing her child. Being all alone while being told. And, as I later found out, she was a single mom.

Those families, all with different stories pop into my head every so often in the past 8 years. I would look at Carly and just know that we were truly blessed to be given this little girl. Blessed that her life had been spared 5 different times. Thankful that I didn't have to know the HELL those other families knew.

After 8 years, I never dreamed I would be sitting here today. Having to face life without Carly. I thought that she made it through all of her health issues with flying colors. So did her doctors. And then, in just a blink of an eye, she is gone. No warning. Nothing. Gone.

We are finding out just how a person goes on while walking thru the gates of HELL. It's not easy. It sucks. It gets harder and harder every day. None of us are sleeping very well. Some of us aren't eating well. Brad just told me he hasn't slept in 2 days. He is full of anger. Thanks to our new found HELL. Paul is barely holding on. Me...sometimes I'm full of rage and other times I just feel numb. Ashleigh is very pissed off. We are all finding out that we don't have much happiness anymore and are very much doubtful we will ever find happiness again.

Now we know just what it feels like to be walking thru the gates of HELL!

July 23 and still unreal.

As we try to navigate our way through this new life that has been thrown at our feet, we often times feel as though we have a constant pit, deep down in our stomach. It still seems so unreal to us. Today, July 23 marks three months to the day of our loss of sweet Carly.

Sometimes I feel as if I'm having a nightmare and just can't seem to wake up. It just doesn't seem as if any of this has happened. At other times, it feels like it's been years and years. And then, at other times, it feels as if it were just yesterday.

Wherever we look, throughout our home and yard, we are reminded of what we no longer have. Just last night, I caught a glimpse of Carly's beloved coloring books. Of course I knew they were in their rightful stop, but I caught a glimpse of them. And it killed me. Carly would sit for hours coloring page after page. She took great pride in each page that she colored. Those books will forever be a treasure to me.

As we sit down to dinner each night. We find it so hard to choke down our food as Carly's spot at the table sits empty. Which reminds us, what seems so unreal, is very much REAL.

Every place we go and everything we do, we are reminded of our great loss. Carly was our side kick. She LOVED to be on the go. Although, when she'd had enough, "HOME" was where she asked to go. Home was her favorite place to be. With Mama, Paul, Sissy & Bubba.
Home, is where she should be today. But that's never to be again.

How does one start to live a new life that has been thrown at them so unexpectedly? A new life that they never wanted to have anything to do with. A new life that they would quickly trade in for their old life; that's the life we want. The life where everything made sense. The life we had with our carefree, loving, happy go lucky, beautiful little girl.

I've found myself having dreams quite often at night. Once in a while they are horrible nightmares about Carly. Most often, they are dreams that I just keep wanting to have over and over. Just the other night, I had been dreaming about her. It was such a wonderful dream. When I woke up in the morning, I kept trying to go back to sleep, just to fall back into that dream again.

The whole thing is still so very unreal to all of us. None of us saw this coming. Not even her cardiologist or her heart surgeon. They are just as shocked as we are. Just the other day I was talking to my brother on the phone. He still finds this very much unreal too. Likely because, on April 22, we were over at his house. He told me on the phone, he never saw any signs of trouble heading her way. Carly was being Carly on April 22. While we were visiting with my brother and sister in-law, Carly was playing and skipping around, riding on the Gator with grandpa, laughing and waving at all of us. We left there that night around 8:30. At 9pm, Carly was begging me to take her to "McDonald's". I told her, "we'll go tomorrow Carly, it's almost bed time now". (Had I only known...there would be no tomorrow for her, I would have taken her) 14 hrs later all hell broke loose in my living room.

Now here we are, on July 23, three months to the day. Still in shock. And still feeling as if this is all just so unreal.

Just for the record

I want you all to know, that my venting is not directed at any of you blogger friends or facebook friends. Every one of you have been so very supportive. Please don't feel like you have to walk around on egg shells while reading my posts and trying to decide if you should comment or not. Surprisingly, comments do help me. As do comments and private messages on FB. They help me more than any of you could imagine.

Honestly, I do understand that people don't know what to say and that often times things come out completely the wrong way. I get that. However, I've had several people who do ask me stupid questions. Questions which are phrased in ways that would actually make your chins hit the floor. The best example that I can come up with for you would be, going to your 25th High School reunion and seeing good friends that you hadn't seen in 25yrs. Those friends who walk up to you and unknowingly ask, in a happy go lucky kind of way, "Hey, how's life been". Okay, that wouldn't bother me as much. I don't think , who knows at this point. But, when phrased in that manner by people who do know, well that just irks me. And Eldiva, if you're reading this,,,,it's not about your brothers. They asked me in a completely different manner. And they were very sincere and they were giving me big ole bear hugs at the same time.

One of the first things that the funeral home director told us to expect, were stupid comments. He said that often times people don't know what to say and say the completely wrong thing. He said for us to let those comments go in one ear and out the other. The only stupid comment that I heard (except that I couldn't remember because my head was so jumbled) was; " You know most kids with Down syndrome don't live long anyway. At least you had her 8 years". I couldn't remember what this person had said exactly and so I mentioned it to Paul and my parents, one night soon after the funeral. My dad pipped up and said, "I know what that person said", and he went on to tell me word for word what had come out of this lady's mouth. All I could say after I found out was, "It's a good thing my head was so jumbled, I may have decked the lady right there in the funeral home" .

I've been working on a post since the beginning of June. I hope to get it finished soon. It's just a tough one for me. I'll give you all a hint.....We paid one last visit to Carly's elementary school the week before school got out for summer break. It was a very emotional day and it's proven to make for a hard post to get through. I will eventually get it finished.

So, just for the record...my venting is never about any comments made to me from any of my online friends!

Quick sand.

Lately, people tend to ask me, quiet often; "so, things getting easier"? or "how's life these days"? Or they assume that since nearly three months have now passed since we kissed our sweet girl goodbye one last time, that things should be back to normal.

What is normal anyway? Other people think that back to normal means, getting on with life as you would normally do. Keeping your house clean (which is NOT happening around here). Going back to living life, because life goes on. Well, of course my head knows that life goes on, but my heart is broken in to a million tiny pieces and my heart just isn't wanting to let life go on.

The best way for me to describe how I'm feeling these days; quick sand. A feeling of sinking in quick sand. I've never actually sank in quick sand before, but that's the analogy that I'm using today.

When one sinks in quick sand, I can only imagine, he or she becomes very panicked. Anxiety would likely set in, along with great fear. Fear of how to survive. How to pull yourself out of the quick sand. Grasping at anything within arms reach.

Is there a right way to pull yourself out of the quick sand that you suddenly find yourself sinking deeper and deeper into? I'm not sure. Who's to say, what the right way is. The right way to pull yourself out and survive. What works for one, doesn't always work for another.

Every single person in this world goes about their life in their own way. Not one person would likely pull themselves out of quick sand in the same manner. Therefore, to suggest that I need to be going on with life as it was before..well, that simply will not be. It wasn't my choice to have life play out in this manner. Now I'm left to try to figure out how to go on. I'm left trying to figure out how NOT to sink in to the quick sand.

I don't think people realize how I struggle each morning just getting up. I literally have to force myself up. The ache inside of me is actually just that. An ACHE. I find myself having anxiety/panic attacks throughout the day. More so than in the beginning. Likely due to the fact that I was in complete shock for the first few weeks.

Sleep hasn't become any easier either. I find myself laying awake till about 3am each night. I'm getting up earlier in morning though. I was sleeping till at least 11. I just didn't want to get up and do anything. Now, I'm normally awake by 8:30. Notice I said "awake"....not actually up.

I struggle even going to the grocery store. I can't deal with all the people. I feel as though everyone in the store is looking at me. I try to put a smile on my face, but any one who knows me,,just has to look into my eyes to see the pain. And possibly strangers can see it too. I sometimes see people and think, "wow, their eyes look so sad". So then I wonder, is that what people think when they look at me now? Am I one who now has those sad eyes?

What I'm doing to keep busy these days...well, I hate to admit, but I'm playing games on facebook. Mostly at night and I mean late at night, when I'm not sleeping. Something I swore I would NOT do because I didn't have the time. Sadly, now all I have is time. However, I do spend the majority of my days outside. I've been putting in a flower garden. Quite a large one at that. I didn't intend to have it so large, but that's just the way things work out sometimes.

Normally, I'm outside all day long. Usually I head out around 11 and water flowers, plant flowers & pull weeds. I make my rounds feeding animals. Filling the bird bath & bird feeders. Cleaning the pool and usually sometime in the afternoon I'll get in the pool, where I spend a couple hours. Eventually, I find my way to my lawn chair where I tend to sit for hours. In between all that, I do laundry and hang it outside each load.

Paul eventually gets home from work ~ quitting time varies for him. At that time, I will then start dinner. Normally eating between 7-8. Which really needs to start happening more toward actual dinner time, like maybe 6ish. I'm still not eating much of anything throughout the day. I have been drinking more water, so at least I'm having something. I just don't have the desire to eat during the day. I'm not hungry, so why eat?

So to me, I'm grasping at things to keep me from slipping completely down in the quick sand. Much the same way as one would if they were actually sinking in quick sand. Except that I'm grasping at my flowers; watering them, planting and weeding them. I'm grasping at busy things that revolve around me being outside. That's how I attempt to stop that sinking in quick sand feeling that continues each day.

Not sure if one who sinks in quick sand ever actually gets out of it safely. But I do know that they likely give it their best shot. They do their best to survive a seemingly impossible situation. That's what I'm trying to do too.