I finished the book. I wrote a book. I wrote a novel. I have no idea what to do next. AHHHH craziness.

There's a lot of crazy going on in my head, actually. Trying to figure out what I want, what should change, if I want what I have or if I have what I want, I have no clue. Is what could be what should be? Or is what is already what I need? If you think YOU'RE confused, you should see what's going on in this brain of mine. Good glory.

I'm missing mom a lot lately. I'm taking a journey to membership class at church, and we had to tell our stories of faith. My story of faith is a rocky one at best. I cried. Then I felt stupid.

I am dating Conrad. I write this down more as a point of reference than anything. Everything, even relationships feel so unbelievably temporary. I am constantly expecting things to end or change dramatically. Maybe that's a side effect from losing my mom. Who knows?

I guess I'm not really in the mood to write. Go figure. And I call myself a writer. Maybe tomorrow. I'm tired. Again. Still. Sleep sounds good. I'll go do that.

Night night.

Everybody has problems. Everybody has pain. Everyone has different life experiences and ways of dealing with them. I feel like people think I'm doing it wrong, all of it.

My mom's death has transformed itself into an actual physical wound. The difference between this loss and a flesh wound, is that there is no single point of impact. You can feel it throughout your entire body.

Like any wound, it's been bandaged over and over again. If I leave it alone, I can barely feel it. I've managed to numb the pain with various distractions and "medicines", but these things are only temporary.

The wound has been reopened and re-injured. I'll stumble into something and tear into it. Other have unintentionally bumped into it, and all of the sudden the pain is searing back into me, the trauma blazing back to life.

It's my own personal broken record, and I can almost feel the eyes rolling around me when it jumps and skips back to the hardest times. How can I move forward? How can I fix it? How can I be expected to be okay?

I've met several new people lately, but typically in the friend of a friend sense. Every single person has been made aware of my "situation" before I ever lay eyes on them. I have become the girl who took care of her mother until she died. The girl with the dead Mom. The girl with the nightmares. The girl with the drama. My sadness has become my identity without my permission.

I don't want to be the one who is pitied. I don't want to be the one who is fragile. I don't want to be the one who is avoided. It's an endless cycle of walking on eggshells, both by me and those around me. Those around me tread carefully in an effort not to trigger the sad girl, whereas I watch myself carefully to make sure I don't make anyone the least bit uncomfortable. None of us are being real, none of us are truly existing in each others presence. Nobody is being themselves.

It's a lonely place, here inside my head. I don't know where else to go. I have to be someone else in every setting. How long can I keep that up? I've been a thousand different people over the last ten years.

I do my laundry at my Dad's house. The laundry room is one of the few rooms in the house that hasn't been cleaned out yet. My mom's things are everywhere, including her written instructions on how to do laundry. Every time I do down there, I can hear her, feel her, even smell her. When I start going down the basement stairs, I can hear her calling to me, asking me to carry the laundry baskets up to her room.

I have to reopen the wound over and over again. I have to actually remind myself that she's gone, and there is no later. The things she looked forward to will NOT happen. The trip she and I planned to Hawaii will not take place. She is gone. I have to remind myself to remember that again and again and again, and it's just as fresh as it always was. It's a brand new pain, an intense sting. There's no way to explain it to onlookers who seem to resent me for it.

How can you lose someone like that and then forget they're gone? Maybe it's a defense mechanism. But it seems like pure sabotage to have to realize it again and again. It's murderously horrible.

I want to be around someone who will allow me to not be okay, who won't ask questions every time they see a tear, and just allow me to be sad when the sadness hits. I don't need to be interrogated, I don't need to be criticized for 'keeping it all inside', let me come to you, don't force me out. Hold me.

I've written before about how my Grandma told my mom not to be afraid to pray specifically. My mom prayed for a man to come into her life, down to the details. She got everything she wanted in my Dad, all the way down to his double stainless steel kitchen sink. I have my list. It's very specific, just like hers was. Is it possible? Yes. Will he want me? That would be the question. I can't imagine anyone wanting to be a part of this mess that I've become 'til death do us part'... but there's a plan, and I'm a part of it. So I've been told...

I feel like the life I've been waiting my whole life to start living has already started. This is it, now what? Make the best of it. You only have the one life, so I hope I'm able to do something extraordinary with it. Some say I already have. All I've done is love everyone I can as much as I can. I don't know any other way.

It takes a lot for me to let someone in completely. To allow myself to really truly love them. When and if that ever happens, it will be forever. That's something to look forward to, I suppose. I look forward to anything that means the ease of isolation. That's why I make stupid decisions about stupid people. Blah.

That would be a novel in and of itself. Speaking of novels, I need to write one. Nearing the end... and maybe the beginning? That would be lovely...

I don't know if life is getting easier, or if I am just getting better at surviving it. Sometimes I think I have successfully dealt with a situation or memory, only to realize later that I had only stuffed it away, ignoring it for as long as possible.

Every once in awhile, nostalgia will ram into me harder than I'm prepared for. The tiniest thing will trigger it. A song, a phrase, a color... I miss my Mama. I miss my friend. I miss the person I did everything with.

I find that I'm irritated easily these days. People tend to complain about the most frivolous things. I almost resent them for it. If I were being honest, it's not almost. I am resenting them for it. People complaining about the tedious tasks and repetitive nature of the job at Caribou is really getting on my nerves. It's your job. Do it. Stop complaining about the same things over and over again.

The person I had lamented the short dating life with before, has turned out to be someone I am positive I don't want to date. Ironic, isn't it? I've spent a great deal of time with him. I know him. Most days it would be difficult to detect whether or not he even likes me. Besides, I am almost certain my heart has landed elsewhere. We will leave that alone for now.

I repeated my visit to New York to stay with Kelly this summer. I took a ten day vacation, and finally saw all of the touristy things in New York I had never been able to see before. I didn't see them to the full extent I would have liked to see them, but we will do that next time. Next time accompanied with someone special, I'm sure of it. At least I am hoping for it...

I am close to finishing Granted, but still so very far away. Finishing it terrifies me and thrills me simultaneously. I wish I knew what would happen, so I know how broken I would end up being if the book never happened. I have accidentally pegged my entire future existence on it...

Sunnie and Paul have moved back into the house with my Dad and Jamison. It was a brilliant idea all around, and everyone will benefit. I feel like I am gaining my family back, bit by bit by bit.

Dad has taken up cigars. 21 years of no smoking down the drain. Way to go. It's not cigarettes, I know. Yet. He reeks of smoke, and I can't stand it.

Well, I have some writing to do I suppose. I need to finish it. I need to find out what happens next in both stories, the book and my own life. Please let it go the way I want it to, please please please...

Dear Lord... you know the desires of my heart, and if I haven't too badly screwed up my chances, I hope and I pray that my plan matches up with your plan. Help me stifle the stupidness, and allow me to let go of the fear and apprehension. Help me take a leap, Lord. Help me fall into your arms. Amen.

Melancholy is my state of late. This is not news. I realize that my mood may appear to be somewhat bi-polar. I've been accused of this already. However, your diagnosis is incorrect. The downward spirals are simply the cracks in my otherwise perfect demeanor.

I can't really decide what to think or how to feel. My head is constantly full of images and memories, as well as thoughts and ideas, wishes and fantasies, regrets and torments...

I lost my Mom. She's gone on to another place, but I'm still here. I feel that aside from losing her, I've lost my entire family. I've lost friends. I've ended up in this strange wasteland completely void of vital human interaction.

I know that everyone deals with grief differently. I know that I can't be upset with any member of my family, because we're all going through something awful, and it would be undeniably selfish to think that I should be the focus of anyone's attention. At the same time, however, I'd like to be on the radar.

Sunnie and Paul are newlyweds, and living a few towns over. They're dealing with their own difficult transitions, and I know that. I just want to be called, invited, instead of doing all of the calling and inviting.

My Dad has sort of shut himself off. If I don't go to him, I won't hear from him for weeks. He cries to me, and tells me how he's feeling. Who do I cry to? I don't have another parent. I know he's really hurting... but he makes empty promises that are just killing me. He apologizes, but... I can't be the only one leaned on, relied on.

Jamie deals with things by holing up in the basement alone. I don't hear from him unless he wants something. I call him fairly often, and together with Jason from Calvary have urged him back toward the worship team.

Kelly is the person I talk to the most often, and the only member of the family that doesn't live in this state, aside from Candace. Candace has just reentered the family, so to speak, so honestly it it would be stranger to hear from her than it would to not.

I am the only one of us who lives alone. It hurts that no one comes to me, but I'm not supposed to expect them to. It's a problem. It's an endless cycle of hurt and disappointment.

Lately I had been talking more frequently to a friend of mine. A guy friend. I had one extremely frustrating and emotionally draining day. He showed up and forced me out of my shell, and we watched a movie. It became an instant routine, and I loved it. Aside from the movies, we talked. We talked for hours, and it felt amazing. He was completely listening to everything I said. He was being a fantastic friend.

This friend believed himself to be ugly and unlikeable. I knew that was completely untrue, because I was remarkably attracted to him. I told him the truth about my liking him, just to sort of knock the insecurities out of his brain. He said he could never date me, because of his friendship with one of my family members. He changed his mind, and asked me out. 2 days later... hahaha. Mind changed again, the fear of losing said friendship a mounting concern.

It was disappointing, to say the least. We barely happened, but I had wanted us to. There have been several 'options' lately, and I honestly thought that I had become incapable of feeling. I was completely numb, and every man I met was just... blah.

With this friend though, I felt butterflies. I was so excited to feel those little buggers again, that I'm sure my head got carried away faster than it should have. I could FEEL things, and it was amazing.

He had allowed me to be myself, and to talk, and to be open, and I can't remember the last time someone offered that to me as an option. Too often have I been expected to stuff it all away and wear the brave face for someone else's benefit. It was expected so many times, that soon I just started doing it regardless of if I needed to or not. It was so refreshing to be forced to talk. I would mutter something and say a quick nevermind, to which he would reply "no tell me" until I caved. I WANTED to tell him. I wanted someone to know me, and he appeared to want to. It just felt so good...

Anyway, it's already over. It's like I watched the teaser trailer for "Happy; the new frontier in the life of Corrie Killmer".. and it was over way too soon. I do feel teased. I feel a little angry, with a bit of a 'that's not fair' vibe attached.

I had given him my best speech on how living in fear isn't living. You have to get up after you fall. Sure, I've had failures but at least I know I tried, and I lived. I also mentioned that I didn't understand why people enter into relationships expecting them to end, let alone end badly. Why would you do that?? One day at a time, friends! One day at a time.

Alas, to no avail. He maintains that the fear of friendships being lost is his primary motivation for not pursuing our relationship, however, the paranoid brain that I have has adopted several other scenarios and insecurities, and I hate myself for it. I know that you have to be happy with yourself before you can be happy with life... but it's so much easier the other way around! If life were just bomb awesome, I think I would be pretty happy with myself!! If people weren't disappearing and dying, and if books were miraculously published, and if men weren't so fickle... *sigh* I'd feel great.

So, that's my babble for now. More to come, I'm sure.

I have a lot to write about I'm sure, but until I get around to that, I thought I would post this video, because it is the cutest thing I have ever seen!!

Watch Adorable Little French Girl Makes Up Fairy Tale on CollegeHumor

I am not doing very well. There's a new level of lonely, and I just feel empty. The best killer of lonely is a relationship, but I know it wouldn't work out if I were in one right now. My head isn't right, and I'm sure I would somehow ruin it.

I find myself going over every relationship I've ever had over and over again in my head. I'm driving myself crazy. I know what I was to each man I dated, and even though I shouldn't be with ANY of them, I just want to mean something to them. It's so stupid. I mean nothing, and I know it. Nor should I. They were BAD relationships.

For instance, Pete. Last time he and I saw each other was the day before my surgery. I thought we were like... a couple. I guess I was wrong. I guess they were friend kisses? He said he would come and stay with me when I was out of work for two weeks. Never heard from him again. He started dating someone else like... the next day. I REALLY mattered to that one. Except that I didn't.

Most relationships I've been in, the guys didn't want to pose for pictures with me. I see them in their relationships now, and they have sooooo many pictures posted of them and their significant other. I feel like such a loser. I know that's dumb, but it matters to me, and this is my blog, so I can whine all I want.

Everything is heightened right now, and I just really want to matter to someone enough for them to actually WANT to be around me right now. Here's to hoping...

I love people, and have so much love to give, but it's time for me to be loved back. It's time for me to stop being an idiot. It's time to stop getting trapped in my own head, and getting lost on top of it. It's time to get a life. A good one.

Blah, I don't know what to do with myself. I worked at Caribou so I would be able to take care of my mom. Now... every day I spend there seems like a day wasted. It doesn't matter anymore. I don't need to be there anymore. I shouldn't be there anymore. But where do I go instead? I have no clue. Travel the world? Sure, why not? Ahhh... I just want to quit.

Anyway, gonna go now. Wish there were arms around me. Wish someone wanted their arms around me. Wish wish wish... I need an Alexander... hahaha.

Disappointment is just too frequent. I know I'm not the only one who experiences that over and over again, but --- there are things you find yourself clinging to, that slip away like everything else. It's absolutely deflating.

I went to see a movie the other night with Sunnie called "He's Just Not That Into You". Of course, it's a date movie so that in and of itself was depressing. It was a combination of several stories, but there was one that had me sniffling over and over again.

Jennifer Aniston's character was at her sister's wedding, and her Dad had a heart attack and collapsed during the reception. After he had been released from the hospital, she moved into his house along with her sisters and their husbands to help take care of him. Jennifer Aniston's character, Beth, was single and sad. Her seven year relationship had just ended.

While taking care of her Dad, she becomes increasingly frustrated with how little her brothers-in-law are helping her out. She is cooking for them, cleaning, shopping, and nursing her Dad back to health. She felt so isolated and alone, and just tired.

One day, she walked into the kitchen of her Dad's house, and her at the time ex boyfriend (played by Ben Affleck) was there, doing dishes. He starts babbling about how he wanted to help, and how he started some laundry and other tasks. As he talks, Beth just starts to cry. Then she rushes into his arms, and he holds her and just whispers "It's gonna be okay". And I just bawled.

I can't even TELL you how badly I crave that scenario. To have someone recognize and realize that I can't do it alone, and to just be there, hold me, and tell me it's gonna be okay. It even got to the point when I didn't care who it was. But it never happened... I even ASKED one of my creepy ex-boyfriends to come hang out just because I knew he was a cuddler.... dumb. He didn't show up. Probably because I'm pathetic.

Anyway, it's always quite emotionally validating to feel one of your desires strongly portrayed on a movie screen, isn't it? I want someone to love, but more importantly, someone to love me. Blah.

I go now, to cuddle a sheltie. He's the best.

I know it's my fault. I know I let everyone believe I'm doing great. I know I smile like a pro. I was cracking jokes at the funeral for crying out loud! When asked how I'm doing, my response these days has been a chipper "Oh fabulous". It's automatic. I don't even think about it.

This is a situation I've never faced. I've never been so close to someone who has passed away. I have never ached for somebody as much as I ache for my Mom. I don't know how to handle it, why should anyone else? I'm intimidating, so is my life.

I don't want to leave my apartment. I want to become a recluse, a hermit. I want to stay here. My older, more mature friends want me to come to their homes all the time. No. I don't like it there. I want to be here. I want to be around the things my Mama gave me, and sit on the chair she loved and cuddle the stuffed animals she gave me.

This has been going on since I was 16. I have been watching this happen for nine years. It turns you into a neurotic freak. Friendships in high school were mutilated through my inability to handle my own life. Your mentality and maturity bounces back and forth between different ages. You're five, wanting your mommy. Your twelve, barely understanding anything, then you're sixteen, trying to experience your own age...but mostly, mostly you're in your late twenties, early thirties... dealing with things that shouldn't even be recognizable to you yet.

I think I'm crazy. I think my brain is split into sections that shouldn't exist. I think I'm screwed up. But I think I'm repairable.

My life for the past nine years settled into a routine. A routine I was somehow able to handle. I compartmentalized the anguish to deal with at a later time. Guess what? It's later. I have to follow my own metaphor and open the junk closet little by little, but I don't feel like it. I just want to keep it closed, and huddle up under childhood memories and melt my brain in front of a television set.

I miss friends. Real friends. Good friends. Friends who are not banished from my life by miles, but instead only blocks away. Did I ever have those? Friends who would drop everything to come to my aid as I did for them? Or did I lose those all in the scuffle? The transition of the life I wasn't ready for taking over my existence.

I have to start over now, or rather... I get to. There's no Mom to care for, no excuse for not moving forward. But there is also no motivation. Now what? First, I have to crack the mask. Kill it, destroy it... allow myself to not be okay. Allow myself to crumble.

It's a very selfish part of me that's keeping that at bay. If I fall apart, I almost feel like it needs to be in front of someone, almost as if I need a witness as proof that I really allowed it to happen. Ideally, of course, this person would be a man who loves me. That's probably the Hollywood Romantic in me, but still... that's the scene my heart is craving. A big dramatic gesture, permission from my love to fall apart while falling into him. How poetic... I guess if I were to wait for such a scenario, I may be waiting quite awhile.

I am so tired. So tired. My eyes hurt. I wish I had a time machine. I wonder how far back I would go? I feel so unbelievably alone. Living alone doesn't help. Every phone call I consider making, I talk myself out of. Why? Because I am a burden. My life is a burden to me, it goes without saying it would be a burden to another.

Goodnight. Badnight. It doesn't matter which. Turn the TV on until you sleep... and then the dreams come. My Mom is in my dreams, every night. Last night, we saw a play. She held my hand and cried, saying this is how we will spend time together. I could feel her, I could smell her, and her voice was so real. So near. My throat closed up, aching with sadness. I woke up, and she was gone. Is this really my Mama keeping me company in my sleep? Can she talk to me there? Can she hold me there? I've decided to believe it's really her, that God has allowed me this miracle. My Mama, my Angel, my hope.

I hope I will see you again tonight. I hope I will sleep longer tonight.

Her service was beautiful. We all wore bright, Hawaiian colors to honor her favorite place. I sang at my Mama's funeral, not sure how. Can't exactly remember doing it, but have been told it was a beautiful farewell.

I can't explain how I feel now. I can't even explain it to myself. For years I have fought this fight with her, focusing my entire life around that of my Mother's... and now her life is over. My life is just beginning.

I resented my Mom for many things. We faced a lot of rocky roads. However, looking back, the good far outweighed the bad. The last couple of years I was her glorified chauffeur, driving her to and from her medical appointments. We found ways to make it fun, her demanding and often times demeaning behavior had subsided, the illness oddly calming her over time. We enjoyed each other's company. We enjoyed it quite a bit.

I've always done everything with my Mom, and I am feeling the loss of that more than anything. We were very similar, she and I. I see that more now than I was willing to admit in the past. I spent every single day with her. It was tiring, and sometimes I even found myself resenting her for being sick. But she was all I had. She was all I had.

Every day we'd find a way to make the day worth living. Whether it was a trip to the movies, or to the zoo, or just an impromptu lunch that lasted hours. We would always find something. One afternoon we went to the library, and dug through old movies until we went home with an armload of Betty Davis. Pretty sure we only ended up watching one, but the hunt was exciting.

Everyone misses Mama, I know that. But I feel like I'm not allowed to miss her as much as Sunnie does. Sunnie is getting married, Sunnie is miserable that Mom can't be with her on her big day. Doesn't she see she won't be with me either? Mom helped Sunnie pick out her wedding dress. My Mama will never be able to do that with me.

I know Sunnie is getting married, and it's a big deal. I know this is her time to be fawned over. But truth be told, it's just bad timing. This is a horrible time for me to be forced to slip into the background unnoticed. True, she is the only bride, but she is not the only girl to have just lost her mother.

I am insanely jealous, and i admit it. Sunnie is marrying a wonderful man, and inheriting an entire family. She has another Mother, and Father, and siblings, and cousins, aunts and uncles. My family grows smaller by the minute. I don't have another family to cry to, to hide with, to feel better with. As much as they offer to be there for me, I'll never be another Sunnie.

I am no stranger to depression. I can feel myself slipping away, withdrawing to the point of disappearance. Before, when I would start feeling like life was about to swallow me whole, I would remind myself that there was a bigger picture. A situation bigger than sadness, and that was my Mama. Every day I would go home from work and change, and want ti stop existing, but get in the car anyway and go to her house. There is no Mama now. There is no bigger anything to focus on.

One could argue that i have my writing. I do, it's true. But I haven't the heart right now. I just don't. I don't know how to get it back.

I screwed up somewhere. I screwed up big. There were a total of two TWO people that i have known for over a year that came to my Mama's service. Two. I hadn't realized how much I had isolated myself during my care for her. Since the service, one person has shown up at my door to offer their comfort and support.

There are several well wishes, and "my thoughts and prayers are with you and your family"...they are all sorry for my loss. I know that they have no idea what to say, or what to do. They tell me they're there for me when I need them. Well, I don't need them THERE I need them HERE. Again, again... it's not support if you have to go looking for it, and ask for it. Stop telling me to come to you, I'm the broken one. Come to ME. PLEASE. I'm begging you. If I have to call you up and ask you, that's called pity, no matter how you roll it. I know people don't want to feel bad, neither do I. That's not why I want to see you. I just want a reason to be anywhere but inside my head, and that can't be left up to me.

I am slipping away, and I'm letting it happen. I'm okay with it this time. I've got just me to lean on right now. Those nearest and dearest to my heart are otherwise occupied or out of state.

I feel angry, but I have no good reason. I have obviously put up walls, and pushed when I thought I was pulling. You can only tell people so many times that you need them. You admit it, and they tell you "Well, just let me know"... I thought I did that?? I thought my telling you I need you was enough! Our door is always open, well great. So is mine. And since I can barely walk outside of my own, perhaps you should come to me. Please come to me.

You think you've been a good friend, but nobody comes. Sunnie had so much support. Even Kelly had more people show up, and she lives in New York. Where did I screw up? I get cards and emails "I love you so much..." then where are you all? Why am I alone? Every single day, why am I alone?

Why can't I have someone to go to the movies with? Why can't I have someone to watch AMC with and recreate deli salads with? Why is my Mama dead? Why am I plagued by horrific images with no way to get them out of my head? Why am I still here? Why is this still my life?

You'd think after the death, certain problems would end. Not get bigger... I thought people kept their distance because they didn't know how to handle the dying. They can't handle the dead either. Well, neither can I. Who do I talk to? Who holds me?

I hate Valentine's Day. This year would be a really great year to love it. A really great year to have one. A valentine, that is. To have arms around me, and kisses on my forehead. To listen to a heartbeat that isn't fading away. Oh, please Lord. Yes please.

I am hurt. I am wounded. I am sad. I am lonely. I am scared.

I admit it! Now what?

I can't believe she's gone. I knew it was happening, but I still can't believe it. My brain is still planning on things she and I had planned on, and I can't wrap my head around the fact that she's gone.

My Mama passed away yesterday morning. I can't believe it. It's 24 hours later, and I'm surprised I made it through the day. I'm so tired, and sick... but I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see the image of her twisted face, her dying body withering before my eyes. She looked nothing like my Mama.

My hand was on her chest when her heart stopped beating. She stopped breathing first, but her heart was beating faintly. I whispered one last goodbye as she slipped away.

All I can see is her gasping for air, her tiny frame shivering with fever. Because she looked so different, part of me expects my Mom to just walk through the door. I look at pictures of her...they're everywhere. This woman isn't dead, she looked nothing like the yellowed corpse whose hand I held until it grew cold and hard. I knew I would be with her when she died.

I don't have a Mom anymore. My mom is dead. I repeat this out loud to myself at regular intervals, trying to believe it. I can't. The fight went on forever, my family seemed invincible. How is she gone?

This is when the fears invade your mind as to whether or not there really is a Heaven. Did she just die, only to become an eternal part of the dirt? It's terrifying. This is why we have faith. This is why there must be a God. This is why I am allowed to believe I will see her again someday. Dear Lord, quiet my fears and put my mind at ease. Replace the images in my mind with those of joy.

I sit alone in my apartment, willing myself to cry. I've been holding it in, holding it back. I am told repeatedly how sorry everyone is for my loss, and instructed to be joyful that her suffering is over, and she's in a much better place. These things are true, of course... but why can't I mourn the loss of my mother?

I am alone with myself, with my thoughts, and when I let my mind wander into sadness, panic steers me in a different direction. Maybe I'm not ready to deal with it, or maybe I already have. Either way... I'm momentarily grateful for the distractions my brain has been occupying itself with.

I'll go now. We have a meeting at the Funeral Home in a few hours to pick out the casket and bring her dress, makeup and jewelry. Then we have a meeting at Calvary after that to plan her service. Keeping busy will help.

I love you, Mama. You went to Heaven at Seven. Your favorite number. It's a holy number too. I miss you.

I'm sitting by my Mama's hospital bed. We've been camped out here for several days. We're told she'll be leaving us at anytime. I don't really know what to do, or what to think.

I feel oddly detached at times. I'm sitting here by this tiny shell of a woman who I can barely recognize as my Mama. I almost have to remind myself of who she is. When I start thinking too hard, the memories are too much to handle. My chest aches so badly, and my throat is relentless.

People flood her room daily with warmth, and song, and praise. So many times I've thought about a day that doesn't exist. I find myself taking mental notes on how many people are there, so when she and I have our next often repeated conversation about how she is not loved by many people, I can prove her wrong. Then I have to remind myself, that that conversation will never take place. It's so surreal.

My Mama doesn't speak anymore, she no longer opens her eyes. My Mama is gone, and we're morbidly waiting for her to stop breathing before we say our goodbyes. Her heartbeat is so faint beneath her paper thin skin. In her hand she clutches a family photo from many years ago. A time when there wasn't even a shadow of the misery to come.

I am experiencing extremes on both sides of the spectrum, and my brain is unable to grasp one certain, solid emotion. The easiest one to dwell on these days is jealousy. I'm jealous of Sunnie and Paul, who have each other to cling to. My mom adores Paul, and talked about him right up until she couldn't talk. My Mama will never meet the man I marry while we're here on Earth. Maybe she'll be the one to find him for me, and send him my way with her soon to be heavenly guidance.

On one end of things, my Mama is passing on to her Heavenly home. On the other end of things, my life is taking off toward success at mind numbing speeds. My book, "Granted" has peaked the interest of a few people at Harper Collins publishing, one of the biggest publishing companies on the planet. They've asked for my first 7 chapters to be sent to the teen fiction editor. The test reader loved what I had, and it all seems to be very very possible.

I have been lamenting the loss of not only my Mom, but my closest friend. Mom and I did everything together. She was my movie buddy. I had learned to tune out her eternal commentary, and actually enjoyed her presence. My Mama loved going with me to the Zoo. No one ever liked going to the Zoo with me, except for her.

RJ's Mom, Sue, has been such a blessing through this time. She keeps me company and has been encouraging me every day. She loves going to the Zoo. She says she and I will go together. I can't wait. I asked her to adopt me.

For a long time, I've cursed my stupid job, and hated it relentlessly. People would tell me all the time that God had a plan in my life, and I was insistent that God's plan did not include my working at Caribou. I was wrong. God, in all his infinite wisdom planned it out perfectly. He knew when my Mama would be leaving me. He knew that I would need to be with her.

He knew that I would touch many people through my job, and they would know my story, and love my family, and come around us as much as possible. He knew that my boss and co-workers would work their hardest to support us. Chris has orchestrated a benefit to ensure my financial survival. If I wasn't working at Caribou right now... I would be overwhelmed with things I no longer have to worry about. I am blessed beyond belief.

I have been living my life for my family, for my Mama. I have done my best to do what I felt was right, what I felt God was leading me to do. Home is where I was meant to be. Now, I see that God has lined things up for me, for my next chapter in this life.

When I would drive my mom to every appointment, and run her errands, and stay with her, my Grandma would tell me that God would honor me, because I honored him. I shrugged it off, thinking that any opportunity I had for the life I had once dreamed of had long since passed me by. No, no... God knew my heart, and knew my love for my family. He provided a way for me to have both while clinging to him.

I will miss my Mama more than I can even admit to myself at this point. Kelly will be returning to NY. I have Sunnie, who I have grown so close to, my heart swells with throat choking love when I watch her tenderly kiss our Mama's cheek. I am so glad I have her, and so glad she brought Paul into this family. We've already mastered the sibling banter, he and I.

I don't know how we're going to make it, I just know that we will. My Dad is stronger now, leaning on us more than he did before. He's realized strength doesn't have to be solo, and that strength as a family tends to be stronger.

I love so many people right now, and have been blessed with their love in return. I am saying goodbye to my Mama for now, but I will not lack in the area of Motherly love. I have my surrogate mommies who will let me cry like a baby when I need to, who will take me to the Zoo and make me awesome food. I'm 25 years old, but I grew up way too fast and have been taking care of things I shouldn't have been taking care of. This is why I think I love silly things like the Zoo and the toy aisles Target. My mom stayed a kid with me, and I will miss that desperately.

I will end this here. Her breathing is quieter. It won't be long now. I feel like there's not enough time to whisper how much I love her into her ear before she goes. I have to make sure she knows. I know that she does, but I can't seem to say it enough.

I love you, Mama. Now and forever. It's okay, we'll be all right. You can go on ahead. We'll catch up to you. You did a great job, you can be proud of your life here. Your daughters resemble you in many ways. You are loved, and you are cherished, and you will continue to be a part of our daily lives until we'll be able to join you up there in Heaven. Save me a cloud, and say hi to Jesus for me. I love you, Mama. I love you.

My Mama will be leaving us soon. We've stopped all treatments for her, including dialysis. She will be gone in a week or less.

My dad wanted to feel numb, and sleep. So Monday night, he gulped down some of my mom's liquid Oxycodone right out of the bottle. Liquid narcotics, down the hatch. He overdosed. The next morning, Sunnie found him. I called 911. When he was at the hospital, he had a mild heart attack, unrelated to the drugs he had taken. He's okay now.

Life is hard.

Well, it's been about a month since I wrote last. Mom was in the hospital the entire time. She just got home today, against most people's better judgment. She is very confused, doesn't make sense, can't walk or get herself into bed. She can get herself OUT just fine. My Dad has to build a rail to keep her in bed.

Beginning next week, I will be her care provider full time. I already attempted giving her a bath today. She panicked halfway through, and I ended up in the bath acting as her chair while I was fully clothed.

I am not trained, don't know what I'm doing, and can't lift her back into bed when she sneaks out. I have to be in the room at all times so she doesn't creep out of bed and fall down. If she fell, there would be little I could do to correct the situation. To say I'm stressed would be an understatement.

My dad popped a tendon in his elbow when we were lifting her out of the tub. He can't lift her anymore. I'm scared to try it solo. If I dropped her... she is not afraid to scream profanities at you. She did it when we bumped her foot into the nightstand.

She keeps whispering "Michael" which is the name of the Angel she claims stayed with her in the hospital. That creeps me out AND gives me hope. At least she's being taken care of.

My job is driving me insane...duh. I'm really clinging to the hope of "Granted" saving my life. I really believe that it could. If only I could bring myself to consistently work on it.

Tomorrow I start "Biggest Loser-- Twin Cities" and I need to win. Goodbye chub chub, hello girl beneath chub chub. Can't wait to meet you!

Hahahaha, well I am gonna go to bed now. It's been an exhausting day.