Updates on Life & Grief & Everything in Between

Wow. Where to even begin? It's been a bad time, I cannot lie. A lot of good has happened, but it seems like so much more bad has happened, too. Much has occurred since I was last on here. So, there are updates a-plenty. Many of them are not great, so apologies in advance, dear reader.

First off, I've still been taking Dad to the ENT doctors, and he's still been getting stabbed in the ear with long, angled, scary needles. He's now had his fourth stabby stab, and he's doing better, but he will very likely still need a hearing aid in one of his ears. However, we won't be certain until I take him back for his "final" hearing test in October. We have about a month and some change before that has to happen. Of course, he's freaking out and worried, which then, in turn, freaks me out and has me worried. So, that's been super fun. But, I will say, the silver lining has been getting to spend so much more time with him during the weekdays. It's been nice being able to spend time with him after he's off work or when he takes a day off during the week for these appointments. We get to go on a bit of a drive -- only about 45 minutes or so -- and jam out in the car like the good ol' days. We listen to so much music from the 80s we both love. He got me into ELO for one of the first times as an adult. And we talk and laugh and cry about Mom. It's been really, really nice. I feel like it's been healing in a way, and not just for his sad little ear drum. For both of us.

Second, work has been a bit of a circus lately. I'm not typically very busy, because I work ahead a lot to make sure I have time to assist other departments. And by other departments, I mean spend time with my coworkers that I actually like while I'm on the clock -- Which does usually entail actually helping them with real work. It's just a lot more enjoyable because I love them. In fact, I very recently went to another work location with my maintenance-working pal strictly to be there for emotional support while he replaced a toilet seat that a different coworker sat on and cracked in the pubic bathroom. While I did laugh hysterically both while he informed me while we were there and while he was physically installing a new toilet seat, I most certainly did not need to be there for any reason other than for moral support. Throughout the time we spent there, we did get a lot accomplished. But the moral of the story is, I work hard all the time so I can do stupid shit with my friends at work without consequence. 

The New, Not Cracked, Toilet Seat

An obscene amount of other odd things have been occurring at work, as well. There is a new supervisor in our area for a different department that seems to very much enjoy talking to me, and he's very funny, so I'm rather pleased about it. One more person to suffer with us in the workplace is never bad, especially when they're funny. If I'm not laughing at work, I'm usually crying, so his humor is much appreciated in such a drab, dark, depleting place. (I swear I do love my job, and I know it's important and that I do important things... But, come on. I carried toilet seats to a location an hour away. Seriously.) Additionally, Ive also been hosting a lot more meetings and leading a lot more groups, so that's cool. I'm getting a lot of good experience, and I'm getting to know important people that can hopefully help me in the future, wherever I land in our silly little company. 

On a more positive note, I've been reading a lot more. I have finished several books, some being graphic novels, and some also being bajillion page books! I've now finished the fourth book of the Dungeon Crawler Carl series. It was amazing and one of my favorites so far, other than the first and original. I also, reluctantly, signed up for my local book club again. It'll be the first time I have gone back since my Mom passed away. I had specifically been avoiding it for that purpose. I don't want all the sad eyes on me, and I don't want anyone's pity. I don't want her passing to be the center of attention. Not that she doesn't deserve it, but I hate when people solely focus on me and my problems, especially in a public setting. I don't like the attention or the looks or the "Awhs," and "I'm sorrys." I've been doing that for exactly five months now -- In fact, it's five months to the day today. Anyways, the book we are reading for book club this month is actually just porny smut, and it's called The Ritual. I'm over halfway through it, and it's been amazing so far. And it's on those beautiful, crisp white pages I love so much in a perfect font. It smells brand new (because it is). It has a gorgeous cover. I have no idea why I'm telling you this. It isn't important what it looks like. I'm really just avoiding the real issues here. 

I miss my Mom, and I miss her more than normal. Just the other weekend, at one of our regularly scheduled Sunday Dad Dinners, I decided it was time to go through some of her t-shirts so I could finally have the t-shirt blanket made that I'd been wanting (you know, so I could cozy up and cuddle in shirts that she used to love and wear all the time, so it'd finally feel like I was surrounded by her comfort just a little bit). Spoiler Alert: I did this. I did not get a blanket. I instead had a small breakdown. I found a small business that I liked that I trusted and wanted to have make this blanket for me, however, she's in the UK. This wasn't going to be a problem for either of us. We chatted and DMed on Instagram and TikTok where I had initially come across her work She let me know that she has shipped back and forth from the US more than once. Everything seemed perfect. She was so kind and thoughtful and understanding of my situation, as she normally created small memory blankets or baby blankets out of newboarn clothing and things of that nature. I even asked if she'd be willing to make me a larger blanket rather than the smaller ones for the kiddos she normally did as keepsakes. She agreed to all of this, was so sweet and very thorough with all the information we gave to each other. But, here's the plot twist: my best friend freaked me the hell out about it. He immediately said, "Well, even if you pay for USPS protection or through UPS or FedEx, that protection just means you'd get your money back, not that they'd make sure they found your Mom's shirts if they got lost in the mail." I very quickly panicked and decided not to send them via the mail to the UK. Ever since, I've been looking all over for someone local I can physically had these shirts to for fear of losing them. I've only found a couple people, and I still haven't pulled the trigger on it. I'm not sure what exactly is stopping me, but no matter how bad I want the blanket quilt of shirts, I can't seem to give them up just yet.

I also took several of her shirts I knew couldn't be made into a a blanket because the designs on them were too big for a certain square on a quilt, so I kept them for myself to wear or sleep in or just hold on to. I recently wore one of these shirts to work because it was a Caitlin Clark shirt, our favorite WNBA player, and Team USA was playing China in Berlin for the FIBA Cup. I wanted to show off some support and wear something of my Mom's to do it. Turns out, that was a problem for my stupid little brain. Apparently something that I knew and had completely put out of my mind was the smell of my parent's laundry detergent. They both use the same shit. My Dad had always done the laundry because my Mom had trouble going up and down the stairs with her prosthetic leg. I see my Dad all the time. We go to concerts together, we have Sunday Dinners together, I take him to his appointments. I just don't think about it when he gets in the car and I smell his laundry detergent on him. But for some reason, putting on that clean shirt that I knew was my Mom's that smelled like her really ate me up inside and out. I cried, I yelled, I screamed, I freaked out, but I eventually realized it sort of felt like a hug in a way. It made me feel more like I was at home than ever, even though I haven't lived there in a handful of years and never really did my own laundry there. Those shirts, knowing they were her's but putting them on my body, both really hurt and really helped me. Maybe that's why I haven't gotten the quilt made yet. I'm not ready to give up the smell of home that I so closely associate with her. I'm not ready to let go yet, even though it's been five months now. 

But, I suppose not everything has been all that bad. Like I mentioned before, I've gotten to spend some more quality time with mi Padre. I've been getting out of the house more and spending more time with friends and family. I even had lunch with my Grandma, Cousin, and Aunt a week or two ago. We had a wonderful early lunch and spent the day thrifting at a couple different stores around town. We were all able to find some really cool stuff. I even got a really cool and vintage papasan chair! I loved it so much I didn't even care how much it cost! Turns out, it was only $29. And then, the wonderful lady running the antique/thrift store we were at told me she refused to sell to me for anything more than $15 because a small piece of the wood had come unglued. She fixed it, but didn't feel like it was fair. So, for just a mere $15, I got a fancy new chair. Only... It isn't my chair anymore. I've only been able to sit in it maybe twice because my cats have overtaken it. I haven't even been able to clean the cushion yet because they won't leave it alone long enough for me to wash it or find a good cover for it. But, Pumpkin and Marshmallow seem to really enjoy it, so I suppose it's still a big win for us all. A happy cat makes for a happy life. 

Pumpkin in HIS New Chair

In addition to this update, I also ended up with a lot of Starbucks giftcards and blessed the masses (AKA my fav coworkers).

Thanks, Padre, for the Free Starbies!

The same day I got fun, free Starbies for my pals, I also did something absolutely heinous. I forced my coworkers to try those horrid Busch's baked beans that were dill pickle and apple pie flavored. I put them in little baby crockpots in my office, and then I let them cook all day long. My office smelled both wonderful and disgusting at the same time. The dill pickle ones smelled exactly like a freshly opened jar of dill pickles. I'm pretty sure that in order to make them, all they did was put regular ol' pickle juice into a normal can of baked beans and let it stew. Then they canned it and sold it to the general public under the guise of it being for the Fourth of July. Same with the apple pie beans. They smelled so fantastic, and I had such high hopes for them because I thought they would be more sweet and savory, sort of like more normal brown sugar baked beans. Boy, was I wrong. I don't know that I've ever been more wrong about something in my entire life. They were disgusting. They were so much worse than the dill pickle ones. I didn't enjoy the dill pickle ones, but I also hated the apple pie ones so, so much more. They were absolutely criminal. The human or humans that had created these should be incarcerated. 

Traitorous Beans

I was not the only one that had these feelings. Every coworker I forced into trying these felt the exact same. We all collectively decided that if we had to eat one, it'd be the pickle one. In fact, I stated very clearly that if I only had to eat one of them every day for the rest of my life, I'd sooner end it all than have to continue eating those horrid apple pie beans. I'd eat the pickle ones all day every day if it meant I never even had to imagine the apple pie beans ever again. They were so disgusting, I am still in the midst of attempting to forget about their existence. However, bestie boy has decided that since he was not only not present to try these, that we need to try them together again, AND on top of that thinks we need to try the bomb pop flavored ones that are supposed to taste like a popsicle. Why on God's green Earth would anyone want to even so much as sniff at a can of baked beans intended to smell like a popsicle? I can't fathom the thought, but he's very serious about it. We'll see if and when that ever happens. I'll be sure to let everyone know whether or not they kill me!

On the bright side, after the traitorous bean incident of 2026, I did however force my friends to have dinner with me later on in the week after some more bad days in the office. I even got them to try a new restaurant they'd never been to with me. We went to a cool local spot called Rhythm Kitchen. They have some of the best food in the city that I'd ever personally had. They often have a black bean and sweet potato chili that I find absolutely fantastic. I ate an entire bowl of it, and I also ate an entire salad. It was such a gorgeous salad, too. For once in my life, my phone did eat first because it was so beautiful I couldn't just dive right in. It needed to be photographed. It's perfect. 

Just Look at this Magnificent Bitch!

After we left Rhythm Kitchen, we galavanted around the city a bit in search of good (and by good, I mean absolutely shitty and full-of-sugar) wine and whatnot. We had a wonderful evening at a friend's, in which I both bested everyone at Uno and lost a piece of my soul whilst losing an additional game of Uno. We drank, we laughed, we played games, we had so much fun, and nearly all of us passed out on various couches. We woke up and immediately left, left over liquors in hand, for a day of nonsense. I slept like a small child and napped at my bestie's house just to wake up and do it all over again. We had a big birthday bash to attend that same evening, and we did it up real big! I made an extra large vat of macaroni and corn at the request of the Birthday Girl, herself. We also brought fun games and lots more booze to celebrate! We all had great good, laughed until we cried so hard it hurt, and we also consumed copious amounts of liquor. It was probably some of the most fun that I've had in a really, really long time. We also got to spend time with some friends that will be moving out of state soon at this party, which was great. Getting to see them again was wonderful, and we're already planning on doing it again soon, even after they move. We'll travel all over just to spend some time together when we're all free. 

Before the Shenanigans

During the Shennanigans

AND THEN, I finally got to take my sweet and silly Dad out to a good lunch at Cerno's. He loves it there, and I finally got to take him there and actually pay for it myself. It was so gratifying, and he had so, so much fun. It was so nice to take him out somewhere nice and spoil him. It was also during Hog Days, so we got to go up and buy pro chops after the fair was over. We got to eat all sorts of yummy foods, trapse around the fair, buy heaps and loads of pork chops to fill our freezers up for the winter, and I got to feed him some delicious foods at one of our favorite spots. We got a giant order of fried mushrooms, I had a huge buffalo chicken wrap, my husband had a big PBR burger (what they're the most famous for), and Dad got a ginormous tenderloin. Everything was so great, and we just got to sit around and yap together. 

Father with a Spongebob Fish Filter

Most importantly though, I was finally able to finish up my Dead Mom Tattoo Saga. First, I had my favorite Dark Horse girlie Liz tattoo my Mom's original tattoo on my left leg in the exact same spot she had it done when she was younger. According to her, it was a gift "from me," as her daughter, for some birthday or holiday or something. It was her first ever tattoo, and she got it in some mall somewhere. Apparently it was from me, despite me being around three or so. But, it was her first and her favorite tattoo. I had the same one recreated with her name added, because her original only had mine and my sister's name in the banners. After she passed, one of the very first thing I did when I learned to breathe again was get a near exact replica. Liz at Dark Horse did a fantastic job. Easily one of my all time favorite tattoos, just like it was my Mom's. 

Replica #1

I got this reinvention of her tattoo very close after her death. However, at the same time, I had my mind set, and I had also decided that I wanted the newer, upgraded version of what she had, as well. A couple years ago, well after my Mom got her left leg amputated (in which she said all she ever asked was that they not cut above her original tattoo), she wanted a new, revised rendition of her tattoo. We had made appointments with one of our other favorite artists who formerly worked at Dark Horse who moved to another town. She was guest spotting at a different local tattoo shop, and we knew immediately we had to see her. I got some sweet, silly little tattoos from her that day, but my Mom got a revamped version of her original tattoo. Sweet, sweet Devan did it for her, and it was beautiful. It was a recreation of the original in a more traditional Sailor Jerry look. It still had both my name and my sister's intertwined with flowers, but it looked newer and more traditional. It was the perfect vibe for all of us. Devan had done such a good job then, that I decided after getting my Mom's original tattoo of our name, that I had to have both. Her tattoos left this earth with her, and I couldn't bare to think that they'd cease to exist. I had to have both of them. The latter, I did not get in the same spot as my Mom's because I already have ink on my left inside wrist. But, I thought, what better than to have them each on my legs across from each other. So, the first. is on my left outside calf. And, now, thanks to Devan, who once again knocked it out of the park, I have the other on the outside of my right calf. 

Replica #2

Now, all I have left to do is to think of something special enough and meaningful enough to me that I can get some ink with her ashes mixed in. The trouble with that is that artists always let you know that they may not heal perfectly. But, I don't think that I'll ever care. I know I'll always and forever be a part of her and her a part of me. She's my Mother. I have her DNA. She created me. She birthed me. She housed and loved and raised me, and not just for the first 18 years. But until her last breath, she let me know how much she loved me. So, no, I don't particularly care how a tattoo with her ashes heals. I just want it to be a part of my skin. In my blood. Forever. I'll carry her with me always, already. She and I had plenty of other silly little matching tattoos together. We loved getting inked together. We both have a sweet little cat on a broomstick. We each have a matching Mother/Daughter Celtic Knot. We also each have a Gilmore Girls tattoo. But, I like to think mine is extra special because it's in her handwriting. At the end of the show, when Rory graduates, in her speech, she says "I don't know if she ever realized that the person I most wanted to be was her." I have it on my left arm in my Mom's handwriting. She was so freaked out when I first told her I wanted her to write it out, but hand written tattoos are one of my first and deepest love languages. I have several. And I had several before I got this one. But I can honestly say it's one of the most meaningful of them all because she was, and always will be, the most important person in my entire life. For the most part, the general population gets along with their parents unless there are very unfortunate extenuating circumstances. But, what is more rare than having a good relationship with your parents, is actually being best friends with your parents. I can honestly say that my entire life that both of my parents have always been my best friends. My Mom will continue to be, even in death -- Mainly because I know she's still haunting me (just like I made her promise she'd do). And I know my Dad will be my best friend for the rest of both of our lives, now more than ever. 

Even though the past few weeks have been really rough emotionally and physically, I still tried so hard to find some light in the dark. I did it with the help of friends and family. I didn't even have to ask. Thankfully, my army knows me well enough by now to know when I'm not doing well. And they could sure tell that the past few weeks haven't been great. I'm hoping and praying that going forward in the next couple of weeks, things can only possibly look up. I'm not sure how much lower I can go, so I'm hoping that up is the only way out. 

Xo, 

K

It's the Little Things

 The past couple of days have been a whirlwind. A lot has gone on, and quickly. My brain has been all over the place thinking about this, that, and the other. Work aside, this week has been odd. Not necessarily bad, but not necessarily great either. 

Just the other day, while I was working from home, I took my Dad to the Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor because he's just been casually loosing hearing in his right ear. At first I told him that he should try some ear drops and then maybe go to Prompt Care in town to see if he potentially had an inner ear infection. Thanks to how everything went down with my Mom, no one ignores me when I tell them to go to the doctor now. So, last weekend, my Dad went to the local Prompt Care, and they told him that they examined him and didn't see a single thing in his ear that could be causing these issues. He seemed clear and did not have an ear infection that they could see. So, they then referred him to an ENT doctor at OSF to better look into this. Flash forward to Tuesday - I took Dad to this appointment in which they gave him a hearing test. I had high hopes that Prompt Care had been incorrect and it was just a super bad and inconvenient ear infection like I initially thought. Unfortunately, I was incorrect. Very, very incorrect. Seemingly, my Dad has just been losing his hearing steadily over time in one ear, but the other ear that was much worse was recent. Apparently this is a thing that has been occurring worldwide, according to the doctor that say my Dad. He said they are unsure as of why it is occurring, but they are seeing it all over the place. Sudden hearing loss can also just occur for no reason, which is part of why it hasn't yet been determined what is making this happen all over the place. Anyways, long story short, they gave my Dad a steroid shot directly in the ear drum with the world's longest and scariest needle. I have to take him back later this week for another one. Apparently it has been determined that three to four of these shots can help significantly with the problem. However, the doctor did let us know that after two shots, if things are not improving, we may have to look into other alternatives for the problem. As of our regular Sunday dinner last night, my Dad said things haven't gotten all that much better. So, fingers crossed it'll start to improve after his next shot tomorrow! After Dad's appointment, I took him to the gas station for a drink and a treat; a silly little tradition I used to do with my Mom when I took her to all of her appointments. We always stopped for a drink for the drive home and some candy to make up for whatever appointment we were at. Whether the news was good or bad at the appointment, the one thing she could always count on was a little treat from me. So, I did the same with Dad. On the drive home, we chatted about the upcoming concert we planned to go to and what the workweek looked like for the two of us the rest of the week. Neither of us had high hopes, knowing we'd both be super busy. But, at least we had the weekend to look forward to!

The rest of the work week wasn't as bad for me as I had anticipated. I worked pretty far ahead, ran some really scary meetings that horrified me to the point of getting intoxicated on a random Wednesday night, worked from my favorite coffee shop, and got to come to work and pressure wash some cool stuff on Friday. Then I finally made it to the weekend, which was actually fantastic. 

Wednesday I had four back to back meetings all day long. And on top of that, I was tasked with leading an important meeting for a group I work with. Our area of work has a group called our Culture Team. That team is broken up into smaller teams, one of which I am a co-lead of. However, last week, our "Big Leaders" from the larger group were all traveling for meetings together, and their travel happened to fall on one of our monthly meeting dates. Because of this, they had to find coverage for the large, group meeting. For whatever reason, I was one of the two people asked to do this. We had prep meetings to go over the agenda and prepare ourselves to run the large meeting that normally housed anywhere from 100-250 participants. I panicked for over 48 hours about this meeting. I panic about running my regular team meetings that have less than 10 people in them. I was mortified at the thought of having to talk to that many people for such a long period of time. Well, wouldn't you know it -- Only 25 people outside of myself and my other co-lead showed up to this meeting. This was bittersweet. I was thankful to not have to talk to so many people, but I was also a bit miffed that so many people willingly chose not to show up or participate in this month's meeting. Is it because the leaders were gone? Was it because I was the one running it? I'll probably never know, but as you can imagine, my anxiety took the latter thought and ran with it, resulting in multiple mid-week panic attacks. Thanks to this stressful day, I decided to abandon my plans with my husband to instead get incredibly intoxicated with some co-workers on a weeknight because I couldn't handle the thought that over 100 people didn't want to hear me talk about culture. It was a great time. I had to stop at a gas station on the way home to throw up. Fabulous. Awesome.

My Co-Worker Before the Weeknight Drinking Went Downhill

Thursday was a hell of a lot better than the rest of the week. I worked at my local coffee shop, as I typically do on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I had been working ahead and cramming schedules together when my husband surprised me at the coffee shop and had lunch with me! Over the course of this lunch date, he mentioned that we should go next door to the bookstore to see if they had updated my store credit for all the used books we had previously brought in and shop around a bit. In doing so, not only did I found out I have an astronomical amount of store credit and donated a book worth a heck of a lot more than they could sell it for, I also got a special surprise I never expected. The owner came up to me and asked me which book I was on in the Dungeon Crawler Carl series. I told her I had just started book four, to which she let me know she just so happened to have received a "damaged" copy of book five and if I wanted it, it was all mine. I stared at her excitedly and asked her how much she would sell if for, assuming it would get sold at some "used book" price. Nope. She just gifted it to me. I stopped dead in my tracks and nearly fell down. These books are fantastic, but books are pricey now. Especially brand new hardback copies in a really popular series. I believe the cheapest they retail at new is around $30. That's not a lot to some, but it makes a difference. And she just gave it to me! She said the sellers they buy from usually either have them return the book for a replacement or refund them and let them donate it. I was, very gratefully, the one who was now on the receiving end of this donation! I could not believe my eyes or ears. This is just one of the millions of reasons to shop local -- You form relationships with all the best people, and sometimes it turns into something special like this! Forever grateful for my local bookstore!

Friday was almost as good as Thursday. I got to work and finished all my pressing work within an hour, freeing up the rest of my day for shenanigans with a coworker. I actually got to pressure wash a set of old lockers some of our staff had in their area that were going in the dumpster. Instead of recycling them, we decided to repurpose them for storage in the garage and some offices! Because of this, though, we had to thoroughly clean them. They were GROSS. Think of 15-20 years of dirt, grime, food, soda, coffee, germs, stickers, tape, and everything else imaginable. Now think of it with the additional caveat that they were both sticky and smelly. We took them outside, hosed them off, and pressure washed and scrubbed and cleaned for hours. It actually took almost the whole day, but they are now so clean, sparkly, and beautiful. Do they look brand new? No. But am I still proud of how nicely they turned out? Abso-freakin'-lutely! Plus, after work I went back over to my best friends' house to continue on in our Marvel journey. We stayed up late to watch Iron Man and the Incredible Hulk! They were both great. Obviously I've seen Iron Man a million times. Robert Downey Jr. Duh. Obviously. But I'd never watched any variation of the Hulk, other than seeing him in the newest Spider-Man movie! It was actually really good. It was sweet, actually. I liked it a lot more than I thought I would. 

Exhibit A: One of the Cleaner Lockers (Ft. Hilarious Butt Stickers)

Before.

During.

After. SPARKLING!

Saturday was the day we'd all been looking forward to: CONCERT DAY! After a frustrating day of shopping for some pants I could wear (thanks, body dysmorphia, anxiety, and trauma - yay!), we were finally on our way up to the city to see Extreme, Tesla, and Motely Crue! For Christmas this past year, I got my Dad, best friend, uncle, and cousin tickets to see them! We waited eight whole months for this show, and it was absolutely worth it! Obviously my Dad and uncle had seen Motely Crue before. In fact, I'd seen Motley before, too. My Dad, other uncle and cousins, and I went to see them when I was in high school! It was awesome. We saw Motley and Poison back then. Then, about three years ago, we all went to see Tesla play, too! So, we got to rewatch them preform, and it was incredible. But, the real reason we went to the show was to see the band Extreme and to see John 5 play with Motley Crue! The last time we saw Motley Crue, Mick Mars was still their guitar player. He's since had to step back due to medical issues. We wanted to see John 5 play, and he did not disappoint. But, if I'm being honest, Extreme was the star of the show. I don't know if it was just because none of us had ever seen them, or if it was before the second edible set it, but I was just so impressed by them and their performance! 

Before the Show (i.e., Before the Edibles Kicked In, Ft. Bestie)

Motely Crue Obviously "Still Kickin' Ass!"

The best part of the concert, though, was actually seeing how happy my Dad was. A.) He doesn't like going too far from home on the weekends, because he likes to stay home with the dogs because he works all week. B.) He doesn't normally drink when we go to concerts because he usually drives (I secured DDs, do not fret, dear readers). C.) He got to see a band he'd never seen before in all his years of concert-goings. I even got to buy him a concert t-shirt that he said he used to have from way back in the day when he saw them originally! The smiles he smiled Saturday were so real and so genuine that I didn't know what to do with myself. I hadn't seen him that happy in what felt like a million years. The smiles were so real and true, they nearly brought me to tears to look at in our photos. Not only was it a great show, I got to see my Dad happy for one of the first times since we lost Mom. Even yesterday when I shared the photos with my Grandma, she mentioned how truly happy Dad looked. It just melted my heart that I could do that for him. He certainly deserves it. More than anyone I know. 

Maybe the Happiest I've Ever Seen mi Padre.

My Concert Crue (Get it? CRUE!).

Sunday Dad Dinner went off without a hitch, per usual. I was, unfortunately, hungover -- Or whatever you call it when you get too stoned and drunk that it all carries over. I'm actually pretty positive that when I woke up yesterday morning I was still a little bit high and sauced. I actually don't remember anything after my feet hit the concrete of the sidewalk after the show ended. I barely remember getting in the car, let alone the drive home or going to bed after. But, that just means I had a good time, right? Not that I have a problem. Because I don't. Obviously. ANYWAYS. My husband made us all dinner yesterday, which is great because I was in no shape to do so. It was great. We talked, we ate, we had fun. Perfect Sunday dinner, and the Fever played and WON! Thank god they clinched their spot in the playoffs Saturday when another team got knocked out, because they lost Saturday (thankfully I was concert-going and unable to see the BS loss). But they won last night, which if I understood correctly, moves them up to the fourth seed with homecourt advantage in the playoffs! YAY! 

Now back to work and back to reality! But, I do have plans to continue on in my Marvel journey and education this evening with my besties. On to Iron Man 2 tonight! What comes after, I do not know. God forbid we just watch all three Iron Man movies in a row. I'm sure there's something in between Iron Man 2 and Iron Man 3 I'll have to watch. I'll keep you all updated, as always. But in the meantime, it's back to work I go. I've already been here for three and a half hours, accomplished everything important on my to-do list, and ordered lunch. I thought a little blog break was needed. Thanks for reading! Or not. Probably not.

P.S. I have become so obsessed with Spider-Man I ordered a stupid phone case, and I've been so excited about it (not that anyone cares, because why would they? LOL). Anyways, LOOK AT IT!

LOOK AT IT.

Xo, 

K.

The Monday-iest Monday, but with a Twist!

Today isn’t bad, and it isn’t even busy, per se. It just isn’t great either. From the moment I got to work at 7:00 AM, I was running around like a chicken with my head cut off. We have internal auditors on site, starting today. We were also made aware that they will be here, on site, until around the 28th of the month. That seems like a long time to me, but I’m not an auditor, so what do I know?

Anyways, the day started hectic as hell, per usual on a Monday, which is fine. But a crisis occurred nearly immediately that I had to help solve. Again, totally fine. But up until sometime around lunchtime, I didn’t stop moving. My Apple Watch said that I met all my goals before 9:00AM, which is concerning, considering I have a desk job. 

Anywhosers (I’m Midwestern as hell, leave me alone), one of the most frustrating parts of my day came when I was in a meeting that was relatively important for me to be a part of because it pertained to an upcoming event I need to be in charge of and an “emergency” came up. Thankfully I was finishing up said meeting when this occurred. But, of course, I was very concerned that two different individuals entered my locked office after seeing not one, but two, signs on my door that said I was in a meeting. I very quickly panicked, only to find out that this “emergency” was in regards to a certified letter that was being delivered by a postal worker. They were worried that they didn’t know who the letter was for and that they would get in trouble signing for it or opening it. To this I replied, “I love doing illegal things. I will handle this,” and angrily stormed up front. Upon speaking to this postal worker, I found that no one actually attempted to make out the name on the letter and that it was for someone that worked here that I knew. I promptly signed for it and flew up two more flights of stairs to deliver it to the proper human being. I was rather miffed about this for quite some time after the fact, but I cooled down eventually. I should also mention that I love these two coworkers dearly! It was just a lot at the moment, but was thankfully solved easily. 

From then on out, the day was a bit smoother. Still busy, mostly with things that didn’t pertain to me, but I’m a chronic helper. If I have to be at work, I might as well get something accomplished, right? I spent the majority of the day in another coworker’s office (the one who’s keypad lock broke last week) hiding from my other responsibilities and helping with his! It feels go to be helpful where I can when I run out of my own things to do. In fact, I’m still currently hiding in his office as I type this right now.

The twist to the day was that my coworker’s sweet fiancé called to ask if he could take him to lunch and I was invited too, which is super cool and special to me! I have this nagging fear that his fiancé hates me because I’m such a bad influence on him, and I get worried he doesn’t want me spending time with him outside of work. Will this stop us? No, absolutely not. Will I feel bad? Yes, very much so, probably. BUT, today he invited me along, and we had a great time! I just adore the two of them, and I’m very thankful to have them in my life. We get along so well because we’re so similar, and by similar I mean pessimistic. His fiancé is like a little ray of sunshine compared to our raging thunderstorms most days, today included. Today, when he called about going to lunch, he was the happiest I had ever heard him since meeting him. He had just finished his last homework assignment and was calling to celebrate officially being done with school. He sounded so, so happy. And of course, my coworker and I were drowning in the nonsense of the constant stupidity that surrounded us at work. It’s like we were in different worlds. But, his fiancé came to pick us up, and we had a quick little lunch adventure at one of my favorite local restaurants. We had a nice time, and it was so good to get out of this office for a little while. Plus, I absolutely love my coworker’s fiancé to death, and I just want him to love me back, so I’m really hoping that this helps. I should also note that said coworker and I are very good friends outside of work, because as I sit here typing this out, I hear how weird and creepy it sounds. I can assure you, dear reader, that it is much less creepy than you might think. Or, maybe not. It might still be just as creepy. At any rate, I’m hoping he’ll be my real-life friend now! I doubt that it will work, but a girl can dream.

I’m really hoping now that we’re back here and things have calmed down that we can just have a nice slow rest of the day. I should be out of here within the hour, and I am very much looking forward to it. In the meantime, though, fun coworker and I are sitting in his office admiring the new lights I got him that change colors while he works on not-fun things and I type all of this up about him. We’ve literally just been coexisting and working and laughing and crying. All we do is gossip about other coworkers that we don’t like and giggle while we work, and it’s been very refreshing after such a silly time this morning. He brings me a lot of joy when it’s often hard to find at work. I have so many friends here that I am so grateful for, but his office is the easiest to hide in! I swear, I love them all the same. It’s just nice to hide and also laugh until there are tears running down my face, too!

The rest of the day should be much, much better than work though! I have some plans to watch some more fun movies tonight with my besties again. We ran through the entire Spider Verse, watching every Spider-Man ever made, including the newest one. Now, I think we’re moving on to Doctor Strange because I’d never really seen any of them except in the Avengers occasionally. I’m very excited because I’ve very much enjoyed the other movies we’ve been watching together. Hoping for a good night with good people before I head back home to check on my husband, who fell and hurt his back pretty bad last night mowing the yard.

Before anyone thinks the worst of me, please know that I babied him all night after it happened. First of all, this grown adult man fell while mowing, but then CONTINUED TO MOW THE YARD. I was horrified by this, knowing that he did not immediately alert me that he was hurt. Instead, in typical man fashion, he worked through it, despite the pain. I made him take a lukewarm shower to listen the muscles in his back, got him to take an appropriate amount of pain killers, set up pillows and a heating pad in bed, made him dinner also in bed, and took care of him as if he were a kid. I cancelled on his golf for today for him, and I even tried to force him to stay home from work. But, I will have you all know that he did go into work today and is feeling better. Don’t think I just abandoned the man in his hour of need. He’s still hurting, but he’s been getting better and better all day long! Which means I am fully allowed to ditch him and watch movies with my friends while he lays around and relaxes without me. 

No fun photos for my post today. But I will say, work and husband aside, it’s been an okay day grief-wise. I actually had a really cute (and very stupid) reminder of my mom today while texting a good friend. She said something funny, but it ended up reminding me of a dumb inside joke my mom and I used to have together. Instead of crying, which I’m sure I’ll do later, I smiled and laughed and told my friend all about it. It’s the little things, even when they’re silly, that really make me smile when I think about my mom. I’m never going to stop being sad, and I’m certainly never going to stop crying, but I hope I never stop laughing either. That’s all for now, folks.

Xo, 

K

I Have Friends in Low Places

I had such high hopes for today, so I should have known it'd be a major disappointment. Let me rephrase: I feel as though I am a major disappointment. 

Yesterday I was so looking forward to this entire weekend. And yesterday, and last night, I had the best time. I did end up going to one of my friend's houses for dinner. It was a fantastic time. We literally just talked and talked and talked and talked for hours. I was there for four hours, and the entire time we just did the Midwestern thing where we stood around her kitchen counter until we migrated elsewhere. I got to spend time with her, her three-year-old son, her best friend, her best friend's son, her two other, older, daughters, and her mom (who I LOVED). She made dinner for everyone. We played with her little kiddo outside. We hung around her living room while he played and watched Bluey. He loved on me, her friends and family loved on me, she loved on me. We all talked to each other for so long that I got a headache from trying to keep up with all of it, but it was the best and most worthwhile headache I have ever had. Just spending time with her and her tribe was so refreshing and enjoyable. It felt so nice to do nothing but hang around and put faces to names in a group of people I hadn't ever gotten to meet but knew so much about. Afterwards, I went to my best friends' house to spend the night with the two of them. We watched another of the many various Spider-Man movies we'd been flying through all week, stayed up super late, and had such a great time together. I finally got some restful sleep, some of the best I've had in literal weeks.

Even this morning started off surprisingly well. I woke up refreshed after a great night's sleep, showered, and started reading another (yes, I read several books at a time) new book on my Kindle while I waited for everyone else to wake up. Then, as planned, we went to the Romance Book Fair at my favorite local bookstore, Stacy's Book Rack! We had such a good time, we all spent so much money (#ShopLocal), got cool free stuff, and bought so many goodies! I even got to try a new dirty energy drink from a local pop-up called Boosters! It was the new Alani Nu Crisp Apple flavor with all these yummy extras mixed in. It was amazing!

Everyone go find Boosters! It was delicious! 

The day didn't start to go to shit until much later. My dad had previously asked me if I wanted to come over today to watch the first pre-season Bears game today, but I had told him I had these plans with friends and I'd see him Sunday afternoon for our regularly scheduled Dad Dinner. I had said this, not to be a butthole, but because he had assured me HIS best friend was coming over to watch the game with him. Much to my dismay, though, when I had texted him to check in today and talk about sports and remind him that I love him, he told me that his bestie wasn't coming over. He had too much to do today and the timing just wasn't going to work out for them today. It broke my heart immediately when my dad mentioned how sad he was that I wasn't there for the game. Then, it just kept going downhill from there. He got really depressed, we talked about it, then I got so nervous that he wasn't okay and that I wasn't there, and I went down on this deep, dark spiral that I just couldn't pull myself out of. After finally hearing back from him after nearly driving all the way there out of sheer fear (nobody worry, the man was just doing yard work and not paying attention to me), he texted me back and we talked some more. This, however, did not stop me from having a full blown sob-fest of a mental breakdown. At my friends' house. At. My. Friends'. House. 

Thankfully, though I often forget because I get so in my own head, I'm surrounded by love and kindness at all times. When I started having the beginning of my panic attack, I ran to the upstairs bathroom, shut the door, slid down to the floor, and tried to stifle my frantic sobs and slow my hectic breathing. As suspected, it didn't work, and I didn't have my hey-take-these-so-you-stop-freaking-the-fuck-out pills on me either. I sat there, alone on the cold tile of my best friend's bathroom, sobbing into my palm to keep quiet. I didn't want to ruin their days. I didn't want to let anyone know what was going on, other than that I was worried. 

Eventually, I did end up texting one of the two of them to come sit with me on the floor to try to calm me down. He came in, held my hand, talked to me quietly to get me to breathe through it, and did everything he could to make sure I felt safe. When I told him I didn't want his sister to see me like this, that I didn't want to freak her out or make her worry about me, he told me I should let her. I did, and I was so thankful to be so surrounded -- literally -- by love. They both sat on one side of me, they both held one of my hands, and they both told me repeatedly how much they love me. The two of them just sat with me and let me cry it out until I finally felt better and the panic slowed down. We probably sat like this for a good half hour. I'm so grateful to have people like them in my life. 

I often internalize everything because I'm always the one that takes care of everyone else. This usually means that I put myself, my feelings, my thoughts, my health, my everything on the back burner. I did this today until I nearly exploded. I don't let people take care of me because I take care of everyone else. It's days like today that remind me that I can't take care of anyone if I don't take at least a little bit of care of myself. If I don't let other people care for me even in the slightest, I start to lose myself to everyone else when they don't even ask for it. 

Today I let two of my favorite people take care of me (against my will, at first), and it was incredibly cathartic. I not only got to feel the love, mentally and physically, but I got to get all of the other pent up emotions I'd been holding in for whatever reason out in the open. 

Eventually we finished the Spider-Man movie we were watching, because yes, I had this Certified Menty B in the dead middle of a movie. I ate some popcorn. I talked to my husband. I went home, where I am sitting writing this right now. On the way home, I stopped and picked up a big fat BLT pizza from Happy Joe's (my favorite thing -- Midwesterners, IYKYK), and I just poured myself a nice glass of wine. I'm trying to make sure I write every day, like I've said before, because I really do think it has been helping. It's only been a few days, and I even missed one, and I feel lighter. Today was hard, but the second I came home, I knew I could sit down and type it all up. 

Overall, today sucked. Big time. I felt like a disappointment as a friend, a wife, and, most importantly, as a daughter. I've come a long way since I was shriveled up in a ball on my friends' bathroom floor, but I'm still hurting. Pizza is helping. Wine is helping. And my friends helped more than ever. I might feel like a big, stinky disappointment, but I'm trying to remember that I have plenty of people who are always trying to remind me I'm the opposite. Hell, even as I sit here writing this, my girlfriend I had dinner with last night is texting me to tell me that I'm a shining light in other peoples' lives. She constantly reminds me, just as a lot of my friends do, that they love me and I bring them joy. I'm really trying to focus on that. I have to. 

I'm eternally grateful to everyone who loves me, and I'm sorry I don't say that enough. I'm sorry I don't let anyone take care of me the way I take care of them, even though I should. I'm working on it. I promise. Thank you. To everyone. 

P.S. The Bears beat the Browns 34-10. Happy Preseason! Bear Down!

Xo, 

K

Diary Entry of an Overstimulated Corporate Try-Hard

 Well, I missed a day. I told myself I’d write here every single day, for myself and not anyone else, and I already missed a day. 

Yesterday was a WFH day for me, so I slept in, checked my emails in bed, and then finally got around to starting my day with some coffee and podcasts on my makeshift desk that consisted of pulling my coffee table really close to my couch for the utmost comfortability.

The day I had yesterdays would have been the perfect day to blog and write and tear it up here. But instead, I worked ahead. I worked so far ahead that I have two of my largest schedules already done for work! It was such a good feeling of accomplishment that I just kept going and going and going until it was time for me to be done working for the day. And then, even after I was done, I cleaned our kitchen. I washed every possible dirty dish in our home (and, trust me, there were a LOT of them), took a long shower, packed up my things for my short weekend overnight stay with friends, and then went to the store with my husband. 

In all of that time, I kept thinking to myself, “Don’t forget to write today!” As if the world depended on it. Even though I keep telling myself that I am doing this for me. I don’t have any followers. No one is reading these. These entries are for me and me alone. No one is actively searching for this and reading it every day. But I just kept nagging myself and thinking that I was lying to myself (and the whole internet) if I didn’t make a post.

It wasn’t until right before bed that my best friend really reminded me of why I’m doing this: To help myself grieve and bring myself joy. He reminded me that missing a single day, or even several days, or never doing it again, was a choice I was making for myself; that it wasn’t hurting anyone, myself included. Only then did I pick up a book and read before falling asleep for the night.

However, in all my agonizing over this, I did find something fun and new while we were at the store. When we went to Walmart, we found little Tostinos Party Pizzas that were supposedly Mexican pizza. In college, my husband and I used to love those little pizzas, even if we microwaved them because we didn’t have an oven in our dorms. They’d be so soggy, but they’d taste SO GOOD. So, of course, for both nostalgic and scientific purposes, we bought two to take home and actually make on our pizza stone. Turns out they’re delicious. It was life changing. A $2 pizza brought me more joy than most things have this entire week! And, even better, when we stopped at the gas station on the way home, we found Sweet Chili Lime Captain Morgan. Sounded disgusting, but it was on sale for $5.99 for whatever reason. Turns out, it was also delicious. Last night we tried it in Diet Coke, and it was fantastic! Next, I think I’ll try it in some Diet Dr. Pepper because I think it’ll be even better!

I Will Be Buying More.

And I'll Buy More of This, Too!

Even with all the stress I put on myself about writing, I still managed to have both a productive day, and find some fun new things to try that I really enjoyed.

Today, however, was much different. Today I worked in the office, where I am sitting currently before heading to a friend’s house for dinner, I continued to work ahead on my schedules. I made such good progress, but I still just couldn’t stop myself. For the first time in months, I feel caught up and good about myself work-wise, despite not loving my job and constantly feeling burnt out. I just felt so compelled to keep going. I can’t seem to stop something once I start, especially at work. 

But, I did manage to find some time to do the things I enjoy today, too. I actually ventured out to Target (don’t get it twisted, I actually hate Target because they were the first to get rid of their DEI programs, thanks to Trumpster Dumpster Fire when he most recently took office) to look for some things. I was in search of a specific, silly little Squishmallow thing. I had seen online that these Mallow Moods were being sold exclusively at Target, and I really, really wanted one. Turns out, the Target closest to work didn’t have any, which was my fault entirely for not looking up first. What can I say? A girl loves to hunt. Anyways, I grabbed a couple of other things I had wanted — some new press on nails, a couple protein powders, and a small Squishmallow toy. Feeling a little defeated, I told myself I deserved some Starbucks on the way out (even though I obviously didn’t need it). It worked out in my favor for a couple reasons:

1. They had the pink Starbucks purse I had been looking for all summer — Bought it.

2. They had one of the mugs I had been looking at on clearance for 70% off — Bought it.

3. They were in the middle of practicing the new Unicorn drink that is dropping everywhere tomorrow — They gave me one!

Be Nice to Your Baristas!

I had ordered a grande blended pink energy drink for a little pick me up while I was talking to the sweetest baristas ever about the purse and how long I’d looked for it. All four of the baristas there were so, so, so nice to me. We talked about the bag, my pink hair, my blue glasses, and how we all had the same vibes. While we were talking, I noticed one of them trying the new drink, and I only told them how pretty it was and that I couldn’t wait to try it. Then I asked them what it was supposed to taste like. The one who made it told me it was a mango base, but it also had a sour candy flavor added in! My eyes must have lit up because the barista drinking it held it out to me and asked if I wanted to try it. I immediately said yes, but to my God’s honest surprise, the original barista who was ringing up my order said, “Oh, please, make her her own!” I literally squealed like a kid in a candy store. I thought I’d get a little espresso shot sized “sample,” but, no. They gave me an actual tall unicorn frappe! It was so beautiful, and it was even more delicious. I was so impressed and so grateful. I almost cried. They were all so kind and loving and enjoyable to be around! I can’t wait to get a giant one tomorrow when they officially release! All in all, it was a pretty decent day, despite the burnout I can feel bubbling in my gut. And, it should only get better from here.

I have dinner plans with an old coworker, I’m spending the night with my two best friends to watch more Spider-Man movies, and tomorrow I’m heading to a local romance book fair and watching the first pre-season Bears game! I have a lot to look forward to tonight and tomorrow, and I’m just trying to hold onto all the good vibes for as long as I can.

Xo,

K

Just a Normal Work Day

 As per usual, work was interesting today, and the day isn’t even over yet. There is always something different going on here. Every single day is some kind of different disaster that needs diffusing one way or another. 

Today it was a coworker’s keypad door lock no longer working. In fact, the battery had died and given out with no warning whatsoever. And, of course, in order to change said battery, you had to be on the other side of the door. He was locked out of his own office with no way in. I’m sure you’re thinking, “Surely he had a spare key, right?” The answer, dear reader, is no. No, he did not. His predecessor never thought to make a spare key for the keypad lock and never let anyone know where the original key was.

After trying everything we could imagine to get it off, we resorted to channeling our inner anger about our jobs, lives, and the damn lock to smash it off with a hammer and screwdriver. Say what you will, but it did work out… Eventually. 

Queue: A trip to Home Depot. We drove all the way there and back just to find how complicated it was for whatever reason to actually install the new keypad lock on the door itself. Because of this, we thought, “Nah. That’s an after lunch problem,” to which we drove to a scheduled lunch date to send off a coworker who is moving out of town and transferring to another of our sites a few hours away from us. 

After frantically leaving, thinking we would be late and the last ones to arrive, we hurried downtown to the restaurant to find that we were the first ones there. We grabbed a table for all of us and waited. And waited. And waited some more until we finally figured we were there, and would be for the foreseeable future, so we ordered drinks. On our lunch break. From work. Where we later had to return to. 

The level of stress myself and my coworkers reach daily should be concerning to everyone around us at all times. Unfortunately, it’s become more of the norm. 

We got back to the office to try to set up the godforsaken lock on the door, which turned into a whole event, in which in the middle I had to dip out because I got a bad tummy ache — Which wasn’t shocking to anyone I have ever met. I’ve been sick for a couple days and overall unwell. Anyways, after a quick break, I came back to find a meltdown occurring because, as suspected, the new keypad was harder to install than we thought. The instructions were absolutely useless, nothing seemed to fit the way it said it was supposed to, and it was overall a bad time. After a small and necessary mental breakdown, we managed to get it up and working properly. Only a few tools were thrown across the office in the process. No coworkers were injured in this endeavor, at least not physically. 

From there, I hid away in someone else’s office to avoid being found and to get more work done, which I do pretty frequently when I work in the office. Being here three days a week feels like too much most of the time. I’m almost always drowning in some problem that someone else caused that I need to fix because no one else will. Ironically, this is how most people here feel, which probably equates to only a handful of the in-person staff here actually being helpful to others. Pretty sad when you think about it. 

The longer I stay in this position, the worse I feel. I just can’t make myself make the dive, despite applying for (and being rejected from) many, many other jobs in the area and closer to home. I’m either not qualified enough or too qualified. There is no happy medium for me in my industry or any other, apparently. I have some semblance of hope for a job I applied for the most recently, but at the same time, I also feel really really lucky to be here, which is so contradictory and confusing. 

I love my job, I love my coworkers, and I love our company. The problem is the majority of the people in our building, outside of the few coworkers I enjoy, are less than useful on the regular. Nearly every day I am here, something happens that just makes me think, “How did I even get here?” I am constantly reminding myself that I stay here because I love what our company stands for and I love the people that I work closely with. Other than that, it gets to be too much. I’m actually pretty positive I’m developing some kind of ulcer from stress, which I should get checked out, but probably won’t have the time to. I can barely make time to spend time with friends, read, feed myself, take care of myself or my family. It’s so draining. But, then again, everything is draining lately. And not just because my mom died. The past few years have been some of the hardest of my life for a number of reasons, that was just the cherry on the cake of crap. 

I’m really hoping all of this oversharing will be helpful to me in some ways. Sometimes I hope no one will read this, and sometimes I do. What if it helps someone to know how hard it is? With the loss and grief or with just existing outright. Who knows. Only time will tell, because time heals all, right? Let’s hope.

Xo,

K

Update: It's Been A Minute & A Lot Happened

 It’s been a minute.

So, a lot has happened. The entire reason I ever started this blog was to be better about writing more and putting it out publicly. Unfortunately, that requires a certain type of headspace. I had it for some time, and then I didn’t anymore. And, also unfortunately, I still don’t. 

But, a lot has occurred since I stopped writing here — I’ve been writing, just for myself, not here. It’s been almost four years since I posted on this blog. But a lot has transpired since then, and a lot of people who I consider very important to me have encouraged me to start again. This is my first step.

With this first step, though, I have to share the biggest change of all: My mom died. My mom died on April 11, 2026. It was four months ago today. I have had to live almost one half of a year without my mother, who was always my best friend, my partner in crime, and everything in between. She wasn’t like a regular mom, she was a “cool mom,” just like from Mean Girls, but even better. She wasn’t the best person I have ever known. She was never just my mom, even when I was a teenager and all we did was fight because I had annoying teenager hormones, she was still my best friend. Being an only child gives you a very special relationship with your parents. They’re still your parents, and they still parent you. But at the same time, it’s like you just automatically get two grown up best friends, too. 

First thing’s first; let me explain. A handful of years ago, my mom got diagnosed with charco syndrome. The best way to explain this to someone that hasn’t had to learn about it extensively like I have is to say that it’s sort of like TMJ; your bones grind together until there isn’t necessarily anything holding them together anymore. My mom had this in her left ankle. She had essentially broken or sprained her ankle bending over to pick up a silly little q-tip in the bathroom (it was mine, so this is all my fault, which she never ceased to remind me) and didn’t go to the ER or doctor for a while longer than seemed okay to all of the rest of us. Anyways, fast forward to when she did: Someone, somewhere, made her do PT. Unfortunately, no one knew she had charco at the time, so she went and did her PT, and then we found out later on it was the worst possible thing she could have done. Once she got diagnosed with charco for real, we found out she’d need surgery and to be in a cast for awhile to heal. So, we do this. We get referred to this wonderful doctor all the way in St. Louis at Barnes, and we only work with him. He does her surgery, it’s flawless (just like him), and we get her in a cast to start her healing. This was pretty serious. She wasn’t able to put any weight on her left foot and ankle at all. This meant she had to move to the downstairs dining room in my parents’ house because their bedroom and bathroom are upstairs, which she could not go up anymore. My dad, the best caregiving man in the whole wide world, bought a hospital bed for my mom to use while she healed and recovered so she wouldn’t have to put any weight on her foot like she was supposed to. As she healed, we had checkups regularly in St. Louis. My dad and I dedicated a lot of time and effort (and missed work) to make this happen. We did this for 10 months. And at her 10 month check up, we found out that she had some kind of infection. All the progress we had thought we made went out the window when we found out she’d need another surgery to remove the infection and restructure her ankle again. This meant one more surgery and starting over her healing process. When this didn’t work, again, to no fault of her fabulous doctor, she was given a choice: try a third surgery or amputate her left leg below the knee. 

The majority of my friends and family know that my mom chose the latter after a long, hard, extensive conversations with me, my dad, her doctor, and her other friends and family. And unfortunately for her, we all told her the same thing: “We’re not in your position. We can tell you what we think, but we can’t tell you what to do. We aren’t in your shoes. We can’t make this choice for you.” She decided that she’d rather not waste another 10 months, or who knows how long, for something to potentially go wrong again. We went through with her amputation. As a family. We stayed with her in the hospital for 16 consecutive days. I slept on the floor because she was in a special, isolated room, because she ironically also tested positive for COVID-19 before her surgery. She was only allowed one person to spend the night, but the nurses and doctors there just turned their heads and pretended I wasn’t there. Only one time did they ever kick me out and make me stay in a hotel so my dad could stay with her to “follow the rules.” She recovered, she healed, she rested, and then finally it came time to be released to go home. Of course, this is when all the paperwork problems began. My mom was off every IV, every drug except her normal, every day pills for her diabetes and insulin usage. But we waited. And waited. And waited. I kept working from the hospital. In all that time, I took off one singular day. I even interviewed for a new, better job while we were there. I ended up turning it down, knowing that no one else would ever let me take care of my mom the way I knew I’d need to once we finally got home. For two days we waited on the proper paperwork to have her released. Then I took her home. 

From there, there were a lot more trips to St. Louis. A lot of long days. A lot of time off from work. And through all of it, I moved back in with my parents so my dad wasn’t taking care of her all on his own. After her amputation, she had to go back to that hospital bed in the dining room. She had to keep staying downstairs. She had to stay in bed. She didn’t have special wounds to clean anymore, but she also only had one leg now. She had bad phantom pains. She missed going outside. She missed shopping and cooking and going to restaurants and taking long car rides. For a long time all she could do was lay in bed, get up and pivot to use the bathroom, watch TV, play on her phone, and bother me while I worked from home right by her side (literally; my desk was set up right next to her bed in case she needed me for anything at all). We played a lot of silly games. I bought us those Highlights books to find all the differences. We did crossword puzzles. And eventually, I caved and got her TikTok — Boy, was that a mistake. Anyways, we did it all together. 

Eventually, we went back to St. Louis and started the fun process of getting her a set up and fitted for a prosthetic. It went like this: 

Fitting for non-permanent prosthetic. 

Made best friends with the people who did this.

Very enthusiastic to start walking again.

Discouraged when it wasn’t immediate and realized we’d have to work for it.

Relearned how to walk.

I moved back to my own house.

Lots of more appointments in St. Louis. 

More best friend time with the fun prosthetic people.

Picked out the “design” for her leg (A purple background with a cartoon person missing a leg that said “Well, I’m stumped).

Started walking more.

Started going out. 

Eventually got cleared for driving.

Still had a long ways to go.

Started having more neuopothy and pain again.

Started staying home more. 

Stopped going out unless someone went with her.

Stayed home.

Went through depressive episodes.

Only really spent time with me and my dad and my grandparents. 

Eventually, my mom stopped wanting to go out. It was getting to be too painful and too hard even to put on her prosthetic. She couldn’t walk for prolonged periods of time. This was discouraging to her, in addition to also being legitimately painful. My dad and I took her on trips to our favorite Amish grocery store, the Dutchman, in Iowa every once in a while. My mom and I had regularly scheduled hair appointments about every six weeks or so. I took her out for fun meals and to Marshalls when I could. The one thing that never changed, no matter her condition, was that we were always best friends. 

Even now, writing in the past tense, “we were,” is painful for me. That’s part of what I’m here for. I want to use this as a tool. I constantly have all these thoughts swirling around in my head. I don’t always say them out loud, and I also don’t always write them down. I want to be better about blogging. Personally. So that’s what I’m doing. Read it, don’t read it, but just know it’s for me. To help me heal. Come along on my journey.

This year, for my mom’s birthday, I took her out to get her hair done like we always do. But then I took her to a local Mexican place in town because it’s what she requested. I started a GLP-1, so as much as I wanted to eat every single thing, I didn’t. I couldn’t. My mom was never one to eat too much either, so we both had leftovers. We had a great time. We laughed, we loved, we ate, we drank. It was glorious. We even ran into some of her friends on our way out. We talked with them for hours. And now I’m even more grateful than I was then. It was the Friday after her birthday in March. I got a little bit of a stomach ache, and I attributed it to eating too much. Then, the very next day, my mom texted me to ask how I was feeling. I told her, and she let me know she thought she got some kind of food poisoning from dinner. We both checked with my dad and my husband who ate our respective leftovers. They were both fine. I was fine the next day, too. 

This odd “food poisoning” went on for some time. My dad tried everything for her. He got her different things to help her stomach feel better, and when it didn’t help, suggested she take COVID and flu tests. Both were negative. My dad had been urging her to go to the doctor or urgent care or the ER. Of course, as stubborn as she is, she didn’t want to do that. I didn’t push because I am the same way. However, after too much longer, I started doing the same to encourage her. I asked repeatedly to which I was met with sarcastic text messages in return that if it were me I wouldn’t go to the doctor either. I let her know more than once that if I had been sick this many consecutive weeks, with no sign of what’s wrong, I actually would. She didn’t believe me. We moved on. We made plans. It was almost Easter. We were making family lunch and dinner plans to celebrate, as we usually do. I was with my best friend with which I had special plans to go to a local hockey game. I had just finished getting ready and was getting my things together to leave. Then I got the call.

“Are you already in Peoria,” my dad had asked me, softly, panicked. I told him I was, but I could always come home, to just tell me what happened. My mom had tried to get out of bed, in her actual bed, upstairs, to go to the bathroom and fallen to the floor. She couldn’t get up, and he couldn’t help her on his own. She refused an ambulance when he suggested it. She only ever asked for me. I came. I flew home, topping my Jeep out over 110. I took my best friend with me for emotional and physical support, should I need it. When I got upstairs to her, she was hunched over on the floor, crying, panicking, and nodding in and out of sleep. She was exhausted and delusional and could only ask me for help and for water. I had never been so scared in my life. Between the three of us, we got her back in bed, but begged and begged and begged for her to let us call for an ambulance and take her to the ER. I sat with her in bed, crying, asking her to do this one thing for me. Eventually she said yes. From there, everything went to hell pretty quickly. 

We got an ambulance to come and get her outside. We got her to the local hospital’s ER. They feared she had a heart attack and didn’t know. They wanted to send her to a bigger hospital with a Heart Floor. We waited and waited and waited for a bed to open up. We finally got her there sometime after 10PM, I think. I don’t even remember. Once she was there, and comfortable, and much, much more coherent, my dad talked me into staying with my friend for the night and sending my husband to their house to watch the dogs. I did. And I’ve never regretted something so much. I woke up and found out they moved her to the ICU. They weren’t sure what was going on with her, but everything seemed to start going downhill from there. 

I won’t go into all the horrific details, but I will say that I lived in that hospital’s ICU waiting room and my mom’s ICU room for an entire week. I slept in the waiting room under the stupid, too-bright lights. My dad took off work. I worked from there intermittently. My husband came. My friends came. Family came. We all thought she could beat whatever it was that was hurting her. But, it ended up being too much for her body to handle. There were so many different things take were happening to her body at one time. The day before she passed, the doctor’s had asked if we’d let our family know. We were appalled at the thought that we’d need to tell our family to come see her because there was even a chance she wouldn’t make it. We didn’t necessarily listen. We did things our way. And then things continued to get worse. The next day, we did let people in. We had to make the choice for her, because she couldn’t do it herself. And all she ever told anyone, us included, that she never wanted to be a vegetable. And that’s what she was for nearly that entire week. So we chose not to let her be a vegetable. 

At 29 years old, exactly one month after my mom’s 61st birthday, I held her hand and talked to her and ran my fingers through her hair until she took her last breath. I watched as she left this earthly plane. I never let go of her hand. Not once. I never left her side. And I’d do it all over again if it meant I could have her back for just a single minute. My dad, my husband, and my best friend were the only people in that room with her as she passed, hopefully peacefully. I’d never seen any of us so heartbroken before. It was too much to take. After they pronounced her time of death, we all just sat there with her. I don’t know how long we were there. But we didn’t know how to move yet. We had to pack up a week’s worth of our things and all the things my mom had brought with her initially. And we just sat there. Staring at each other. Not speaking. Just crying, silently. 

Ever since that day, I’ve been a different person. I barely took any time off work, only what was absolutely necessary to take care of my dad and my mom’s affairs. It has been the hardest time of my life. I’ve, quite literally, never felt this low or depressed before, and coming from a previously suicidal angsty teen, that’s saying something. Her loss has been the most prominent of my life and I was barely 30 when it happened. 

Today makes four months. Today also makes the day I choose to be more accountable. I want to keep this up to date, even if it’s just for me, and I’m the only one that reads it. I want to share my grief. My days. My life. I want a real blog. Not just my regular writings and memories, but a real life blog. So that’s what will be here in the coming days, weeks, months, and however long I can keep it up. I truly think it will help. My best friend thinks it’ll help. My therapist thinks it’ll help. I think it’ll help. 

Anyways, today has been really hard. I worked from home, because I do that twice a week now, and watched nearly a whole Spider-Man movie on FaceTime with my best friend. I ate some really great, fresh yellow tomatoes and cottage cheese for breakfast, despite not feeling well since last night. I had lunch with my husband on his lunch break from work. I made it through several episodes of one of my favorite podcasts, Last Podcast on the Left: Side Stories, to catch up. And I’ve started writing here again. Going forward, it’ll be more memories, more grief, and more about my days. I hope you’ll stick around for my journey. All I can say now is that I’m giving my best.

Xo,

K.