In All Fairness

It's probably not fair to post something like I just did and not explain even a little.

My sweet sweet, beautiful, darling, precious daughter was diagnosed with a shitty, piece of shit, awful, son of a jackal disease in May. It's called Infantile Spasms, it is a seizure disorder, and it has just stolen so much from her I can't stand it! Sound a little bitter? A little angry? Well, I've been putting on a nice face, and if you can't bitch in your anonymous blog, well then, WHERE THE HELL CAN YOU?! Hm? That's what I thought. Sit down. This poor girl was having 3 seizures a day. They were really setting her back developmentally, still kind of are. They have slowed down a little to 1-2 a day, but sometimes zero. I hate having to look at my beautiful daughter and think about what is being stolen from her at this moment and what might be stolen from her in the future.

That right there, that idea is just the worst damn thing for me. It's so hard to deal with. And I know, I KNOW, dont borrow tomorrow's troubles. See the silver lining. I know..... I'm trying. Most of the time I do okay. It's just when I get around kids who are doing so much, or I see 6 month olds who are standing in their crib, who probably say "Mama", it just slays me. If these seizures would stop, she would catch up, but they aren't stopping. We have plans, and God, Oh God, please, please, please heal our girl.

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You know what is really hard to hear, "I don't know how you cope with all of this. I wouldn't be able to do it." Uh, Ive gained 20lbs and cry all the damn time. I'm really not coping. It's because of Jesus that I haven't lost my damn mind, but I'm not dealing with it very well. Maybe it get's better with practice. Anyway, Larry has started back up with the whispering and threatening. Better close this up.

You have a good day now, ya hear! God bless you! :-D

By the Balls

I feel like "Life", let's call him Larry, has a gun to my back. In my ear, he whispers, "Don't stop smiling. Don't stop having fun. Figure it out. Find the balance. Take care of everyone. Take care of yourself. Don't you dare stop fucking smiling." Then Larry, who is maintaining his own smile, punches me in the kidney. I bend over, moan in pain, hold my side, grimace, perhaps cry a bit. He gives me just a second before jabbing my shoulder blade with the barrel of his gun and repeating his mantra, "Don't you dare stop smiling. Or I will fucking end you in ways you can't imagine. Just keep moving."