Be that as it may, I'm still trying.

One hundred eleven. 111. It seems odd to write that number, because it doesn't seem like it's really all that significant.

And yet, here I am.... acknowledging the fact that Momma has been gone for 111 days.

It seems like it was just yesterday and three lifetimes ago all at once.

I would like to be able to say that I'm doing good and that I've learned to accept and move on from the situation, but the truth is, I'm not.

I'm not feeling better, I'm not physically better, and I'm not mentally better.

Basically, nothing is better and I don't foresee it getting there. I'm sure eventually it will, but for now, I'm still in Limbo replaying my entire life up until that point over and over again until my brain may in fact overheat.

I'm still having those anxiety attacks. It's actually getting harder to get out of bed, and I can't tell if it's a mental or physical thing. (But, my bet would be mental).

I don't want to leave my house and whether it be lack of sleep or something else, my entire body is in pain. Even going down the road to Aunt Poot's for a cookout seems like an incredibly daunting task. I still randomly burst out in tears and replay everything that I tried to do and couldn't do all over and over in my mind.

I try to tell myself that nothing can change what is, but that doesn't help AT ALL.
And don't even get me started on how "Mother's Day" went over this year.

I've been attempting to do more things around the house (trying to keep up with cleaning, laundry, mowing/weed eating grass, etc.), but still find that I would rather lay in the dark and not move at all. I'm pushing myself to "do more" and keep finding that it's exhausting. And not a regular kind of exhausting, but an exhausting that I've never felt before.

After speaking to a friend of mine that lost her mother a couple of years ago, she suggested that maybe I should go and talk to my doctor for something that would help "short term" until I can cope with things on my own. I just don't know about it.

I don't mean to feel this way, and I even feel guilty for it, but I can't seem to help it. My "putting on a brave face so my family and friends don't worry about me" facade is getting better by the day though.... probably.

Apart from that, here I sit. In Limbo.

But, I'm trying. Because as I've said before, and I will be forever convinced of, she would kick my ass if I didn't.