Trying to be okay.

Time to get heavy.

The last two months have been the worst of my life. Bar none. 

It goes without saying that most of that has to do with my mom’s health. I still can't really get myself to write about it, but I’ve never felt more sad, frustrated, angry, or lost in my life. In fact, I can’t really imagine anything worse happening.

Couple that with the misdiagnosis, the waiting, the hospital visits, and the seemingly unlimited mistakes that have been made by everyone involved and a horrible situation somehow becomes even worse. At this point, it’s hard for me not to wonder if the entire medical field is out to lunch.

But on top of that, there have been other pains – things that would seem like a much bigger deal if my mom was healthy. When we first found out about my mom, my brother was halfway around the world and virtually unreachable. We kept the diagnosis a secret, telling no one for fear of LP finding out on Facebook. I worried about him on his deployment, praying every single day for his safety. Now, he's back in California and although I'm grateful he's back, I still wish he was here to hug whenever I wanted.

On the selfish side, I got a part-time job that has nothing to do with sports. I really like the people I work with and the schedule is flexible, but it’s not my passion and not what I just went to graduate school to do. I came to Indianapolis to follow my heart and now, with everything that has been going on, I realize that my heart has been in Lebanon all along.

Throughout this ordeal, I’ve been working an unpaid internship with the Cyclones. I love covering the games and have learned a lot, but with the two-hour commute to U.S. Bank Arena, it has been unbelievably taxing on my time, car, and mind. Even worse, this internship will not magically turn into a job and I have no hockey-related job prospects in sight. In fact, the Indy Fuel didn’t even offer me an unpaid sales internship for the summer after I did everything in my power to get my foot in the door.

Denny, my sister’s boyfriend and essentially my other little brother, left for Arizona on Monday. He’s in the Air Force and will be gone for three years. Although she’s pretending she’s okay, I know my sister is heartbroken and struggling to decide when to join him. She’s afraid to leave my mom and her stable job for a new place so far from home.

Wheat is busier than ever. With the Pacers in the second round of the playoffs and the Fever starting this week, his schedule has become my worst nightmare. I’m so unbelievably proud of his hard work and I’m excited that he gets to travel to the away games, but the selfish part of me feels broken. This is the worst time of my entire life and I’m alone most nights in my apartment, forcing myself to hang up before calling my mom and crying myself to sleep. 

In the next two weeks, Wheat and I only have two (maybe three) nights together. I feel ridiculous even saying that, considering my brother and sister live across the country from their significant others, but I can't help the way I feel. While I’m piling it on, I should add that I don’t really have any friends in Indianapolis, no one to take my mind off of things with a movie or dinner date.

I feel so selfish saying this, but every single day is a struggle for me and I’m not even the one who is sick. I don’t understand how a person is supposed to function when they feel like their entire world is crumbling around them. It takes every ounce of my being to put a smile on my face and act like I'm okay.

But just when the sadness becomes too overwhelming and I feel like I can’t breathe, I remember how lucky I am. I have a roof over my head, an incredible family and best friend, a supportive and loving boyfriend, understanding bosses at work, so many encouraging and loving friends all over the country, and I get to call the best person I’ve ever known my mom.

…and nothing will ever change that.