Will she remember me?

There are times when I find it truly hard to keep going. When the thought of getting out of bed, to struggle through another long and painful day seems so overwhelming...

I move about my day, doing my job, checking my blood sugars, watching my CGM graph, thinking about everything I MUST do before I go to bed tonight and I wonder constantly how do I manage it all?

Much of my day is spent in fear that my house of cards is going to topple. That the hospital creditors are going to come after me. That they are going to garnish my wages and make it even harder for m to live. I worry that I'll miss a car insurance payment and lose my insurance or a credit card won't get paid and the credit history that I spent all these years repairing because of what my ex husband did to me will be for naught.

Yes, I know worrying causes me more anxiety and damages my heart more. I know worry causes my blood pressure to raise and can even cause blockages to grow. Yes, stress releases cortisol which turns into plaque, which in turn makes me even sicker.

But how to stop worrying? Where to get the motivation to keep doing the same thing over and over and knowing in the end that I am still very ill. Knowing in the end it's not going to matter to me. It will matter to my husband and daughter and that is who I do it all for.

Trying to manage my diseases, trying to pay down the existing doctors and hospitals bills while still buying my medications and diabetes supplies is all for them. In the scheme of it all, it's truly not for me. I am dying. There is no way around that fact.

I find that the majority of the people I know cannot handle me saying that I am dying. There isn't anyone I know that can listen to me talk about the end of my life. The upcoming years that will see my body fade and break. Is it this year? It could be? Could I live another ten years? No that is not possible.

I have this time here. And yes, I spend it worrying about how to pay for food, medicine, doctors, Grace's needs, Jeff's health problems... Yes, I have had some help. Yes, I have raised some funds in my fundraiser to get through this past month.

My well of good cheer runs empty many times because I just feel so inexplicably tired. It hurts me to go to the grocery store after work because I've been working all day. On Friday, all I want to do is crawl into bed but I don't.

No, see even after work I have a child that needs me. And I don't do all the things I should with her. Her father, thankfully, plays a huge role in taking care of her. He helps her with homework, and guitar practice, trying to teach her something she desperately wants to learn. He's been making Minecraft signs all week for her birthday party. He's been searching how to design the Minecraft cake she wants. Not me. Not her mother. I have gone to work all week and come home exhausted and sore. I did laundry and cooked a bit. I over slept Monday and had to work late because I went in so late.

I am not the parent who provides the most for her. I am nobody. And it breaks my heart in a million pieces. All I ever wanted in life was to be a good mother. To be someone that my daughter counted on to make her life happy. I wanted to be a room mother and member of the PTA, organize play dates and chase the ball in the backyard. But I am none of those things. I will help bake the cake tonight for her birthday party, if Jeff hasn't already done it...however he is so good at that stuff and he is home with her... I am not.

I have not been the kind of mother I wanted to be. BUT--- I love my daughter more than anyone else in this world. I thank whatever entity brought her to me, in good health, with a good mind and a delightful personality. I am lucky to have her, only her, for I was too sick to ever have anymore children.

What I wonder most, is that since I am dying, since I may not be here next year, since I most certainly won't see her graduate high school is this--- Will she remember me? Will she remember my love for her? I won't have done all the things with her that Jeff has done. I won't have been the parent that designed the Minecraft themed party for her 9th birthday, her 'golden' birthday. When she is 40 and planning her child's party, a child I will never know, will she remember that I was there, that I went to the store and bought the square plates?

I don't know but sometimes it's all just too much for me. It's so unfair, that I have this wonderful, amazing, beautiful little girl and I am too sick and in too much pain to enjoy her. There is no getting past what I have either. This won't go away. I will die. I hope somehow she knows I loved her and everything I did was truly for her, to give her whatever life I could, while I could...