Every second of every day I live with the death of my baby girl. That will never change. That will never go away. That will never get easier. I am a grieving mother. For the rest of my life, each day I have to learn how to live without my daughter. This is the hardest thing I will ever do and it will take the rest of my life to do it. I am doing the best I can every single day.
Everyone is concerned and worried about us. They should be. We are attempting to survive in a world that is crushing us. I am worried too and I am doing the best that I can.
All day every day, my head is spinning with anger, sadness, fear, anxiety, and pain. All day every day, I navigate my way through that storm in my head, just long enough to be able to function at an acceptable level for a human. It takes everything I have. And I am doing the best that I can.
Distraction. Hold it together. Break down. Distraction. Hold it together. Break down. And so on.
In this super-fucked-up reality that I have been forced to live in, advice and suggestions very often are not what I need. I am doing the best that I can. That’s all I can do. If you don’t agree with, understand, or simply worry about what I am doing, I don’t care. You don’t have to do what I am doing or think what I think. All you have to do is understand that I am doing the best that I can. And I’m not sorry. My father has told me repeatedly throughout my life, “Do your best. If that isn’t good enough, fuck ’em.” So there you go. I am hoping that for most of you, my best is good enough.