Dear Empire State Building Employees,
There is something you need to understand about childhood cancer and those affected. And there is something you need to understand about social media. We don’t fight alone. Nobody does. A stranger’s battle becomes each of ours. We are in it together. We all talk to each other, and we know it was more than one individual who requested you to light up gold. We know. At least two nonprofit organizations have filled out the form on your website, in hopes of seeing your building light up gold for one night next month. One night is all we ask. We know you have gold light bulbs. Sure, individuals have requested for you to do the same, and perhaps you feel justified in denying them, and perhaps you are, in fact, justified. But when two nonprofit charities have diligently filled out the form, and sent it in, and they are still refused, what then? Are we supposed to just give up? That isn’t how we operate at all. We fight daily for our kids, for our families, for the other kids we know who are fighting for their lives, and yes, for ourselves. Because some of us, me included, are survivors of childhood cancer.
And we all are friends on social media platforms. We all talk to each other. We know who has filled the form on your website. We know parents who posted pictures of their sick children on your Facebook wall, and those posts were promptly deleted by the person who who administrates the page. We just wanted you to see what you were saying no to. We just wanted you to see who you were saying no to. We wanted you to see the babies you are refusing to help. But you just block everyone. Why? We are just going to keep asking. I think all of you know that.
In your statement, you say you provide lighting for World Cancer Day in partnership with American Cancer Society. That is pretty amazing. But did you know that American Cancer Society only gives a penny or less out of every dollar they receive to pediatric cancer? There is a reason why we want you to go gold next month. Pediatric cancer is grossly underfunded. It gets less than 4% of federal funding and there are more types of childhood cancer than you can count on your fingers. On both hands. Everyone in the childhood cancer social media community and in their orbits knows about childhood cancer. Most people step up to help. Other people have their own causes, their own problems. But for us, this is it. This is worth fighting for. Would you not say your own children were worth fighting for? Would you not do anything for them? Their lives depend on you. Sick children’s lives depend on us, on awareness, on action.
That brings me to what you said about people getting frustrated and wishing cancer on you. First off, I doubt that was what really happened. Nobody in this community would ever wish cancer on somebody else, even someone they don’t get along with very well. Cancer is a horrible nightmare. If you had gone through it, either yourself or with a loved one, you would know that. If someone within our community is “abusive,” as you say, then it is out of sheer frustration and has nothing to do with you personally. We are all human. We are all running a million miles a minute and getting nowhere fast. You said no to Thumbs Up for Lane Goodwin Childhood Cancer Foundation and you said no to The Ronan Thompson Foundation. We have been asking for at least two years. If we get a little frustrated, who are you to blame us, really? Kids are dying every single day all over the world, and these are battles we can’t fight for them. But the fight for awareness and funding? That is what we can do. We will keep coming. We will keep asking. And that is a promise.
Stage IV neuroblastoma survivor
Diagnosed at 15 and a half months
Ronan. I did something a couple Saturdays ago that ended up being not all that smart. I was in a mood. It was a Saturday and the weekends around our house are still really hard on me. So much family time that I know you know I am thankful for, but weekends always seem to hurt so much more. We spent the morning at your brothers’ basketball games, a place where I am normally my happiest. On this particular day, not having you there to watch and cheer for your brothers was just too much missing you for me to handle. I did my usual put on my happy face while I did my loudest screaming my head off for your brothers as I watched them dominate on the court. After another victory (insert proud bragging rights here) we all went home and your brothers ended up getting invited to go swimming with some friends. I volunteered to take them as Poppy was getting ready to take her nap. I threw on my hiking gear as your daddy looked at me and said, “You’re going hiking? It’s the hottest part of the day and about 110 degrees outside. You shouldn’t go.” Your daddy knows me well enough though to know that his words were falling on deaf ears. I was on a mission and destroying Camelback Mountain during the hottest part of the day was what I was set on doing. There was no telling me otherwise. I packed my backpack full of a ton of cold waters, made sure my phone was totally charged as bounced out the door to drop your brothers so I could take my anger out on something… anything to get me through the day.
Hiking Camelback on a normal temperature day is not an easy feat. Throw in the scorching heat, not to mention my anger/sadness/grief and the inferno that day went to a whole different level of hell. I climbed as fast as I could, feeling the pain as my hands burned every time I would go to grab a boulder to pull myself up on. I could only let my hands touch them for a few seconds before I would end up pulling them away so they didn’t get burned too badly. Not many people were on the mountain that day, but yes, there were a few who were just as crazy as me. I found myself wondering if they too had dead kids or parents or lovers or friends. Was it possible that somebody up here hurt just as much as me? What in the world had they endured in this lifetime to make them climb up a mountain during such an intensely hot day?? I let all these thoughts fill my mind as I continued to climb. I had to stop quite a few times which I normally don’t do. After about 45 minutes, I knew I had enough and I made myself turn around even though I was still about 5 minutes from the top. I’ve never not made it to the top, so this was a first and I was not happy about it. But I also know my limits and just how to come really close to the edge of things in life without not totally falling the side of the cliff. I had just turned around when I noticed a guy in black shorts coming up as I had to move out-of-the-way so he could pass me. You always give the right away to the people coming up, at least on my mountain where I follow and respect all the rules that my veteran hikers have put into place. I didn’t think much of this person passing me, but I gave him a quick hello, made eye contact, and really wanted to say, “What is causing you so much pain to hike on a day like today?” I made my way down the mountain, slowly. I started to get really disoriented and dizzy from the heat. I have hiked that mountain no less than 300 times, so I was not worried about getting lost, but I was worried about passing out. I got to the part where you have to hold onto some rails to climb back down. I know I was delirious at this point because my head starting saying things that maybe used to fill my mind a lot, but do not very much anymore. I heard myself talking about death, dying, and was I dead?? Maybe I was really dead and this was really hell. Did I want to die? I was so out of it at that point that I couldn’t really answer my own question. I let my mind drift and wander to those morbid places for a couple different reasons. One being that I really wasn’t in control of the thoughts that were taking over my brain and two because sometimes I just have to go there… to the darkest of the dark places. I live in that place, but I don’t visit it very often anymore so when it’s time to take a little vacation to all things dark, I just allow myself to go and don’t really question it much. I cannot live in the constant sunshine every day of my life as it gets so exhausting to do so.
I ended up calling your daddy at some point and I don’t remember what I said, but I think I told him I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it to the bottom. He offered to come and get me and of course I said no. Don’t forget I have that whole ‘I’m not a princess and I don’t need saving’ thing still going on. I made it to the car where I blasted the A/C and sat for a bit as I recovered before I attempted to drive just a few minutes home. I came crawling through the door as your daddy handed me a big Gatorade and watched me sink down to the ground where I passed out for a few minutes on our cool tile floor. I opened my eyes just in time to see him hovering above me and heard him say, “Have you had enough self-torture for the day?” For the day, yes. For life, never. I rolled my eyes and went to our bedroom where I showered and passed out for a good hour or so only to wake up to a raging headache that was brought on by my stupidity. Do you think I learned my lesson and will never do that again? You know me better than that, Ronan. You know I’ll be back up that mountain in no time to do it all over again. I’ve been hiking it still, but going really late in the afternoon where the temps are in the low 100’s. Those temperatures are easy to hike in for me compared to the 110 in the middle of the day.
A couple of days after my Saturday inferno, I heard on the news that a hiker was missing on Camelback Mountain. I didn’t think much of it until they mentioned he had gone missing on Saturday, around the same time that I was on the trail. I googled the story and found it almost immediately. He was 23, from Washington State and his dad was pleading for his son’s life. I tried my best to remember if I had seen him on Saturday and my mind went back to the guy in the black shorts. Could that have been him? In my mind, I thought he looked much older than the person I was looking at on my computer screen before me, but still I couldn’t shake the thought of somebody missing on that mountain. My mountain of all places where I have hiked over 300 times and it’s one of the few places that I can count on in life to accept my grief, nurture my grief, love my grief and never judge my grief. My place of solitude and peace and now you’re telling me there is somebody missing up there? I couldn’t stop thinking about it and didn’t know how he hadn’t been found. It’s a big mountain, but not that big and the helicopters/search and rescue had already been looking for days. On Tuesday, I was restless and left the house after your daddy got home to go hike Camelback to see if I could maybe help look for this kid. It had been 3 days and I knew if he was up there and found, that it was not going to be good. Still, I asked whoever is in fucking control of this life, for a miracle. Just as I pulled in, I saw that the mountain was closed and a sign was posted saying a rescue was in progress. My stomach sank as I drove off to hike my little back up mountain as I watched the helicopters hover about. Please let him be alive. Please, please, please. I came home and checked the internet for the news. A few hours later the updated story was posted. A hiker was found dead about 200 feet from the top of the mountain, but they would not confirm that it was indeed the hiker that went missing on Saturday. The next day it was confirmed that it was the missing hiker from Washington State. My thoughts immediately went to his family as I could actually imagine what it was that they were feeling due to knowing what it is like to know your child is dead. The shock. The numbness. The pain that hurts so badly that it is almost indescribable to put into words. I know what all of that is like and I’m just sorry that those parents now do, too. It’s been over a week and I can’t stop thinking of this kid and what happened. I will never be able to hike that mountain again without thinking of him and his family. It’s just beyond sad.
I talked to some of the regular hikers after it happened. Eric’s body was found about 500 feet below the summit. They showed me where he was found as I wiped the tears away from my face. The cause of death has not been released, but I imagine it had to do with the heat and the fact that he was not familiar with the mountain which caused him to end of getting lost and disoriented. The whole thing just makes me incredibly sad and not that I need it but it is a reminder of how precious and short life really can be. And yes, it is also a reminder that I know I need to be careful up there because I do not really want to die. Sometimes I just want a break from all of this pain though. I maybe need to find a better way to help with that instead of hiking up a mountain during the hottest part of the day.
Your brothers turned 11 yesterday, Ronan. I cannot believe I have 11 year olds and more so I cannot believe I am lucky enough to have the amazing 11 year olds that I do. I could not be more proud of the little men they are becoming and I know without a doubt they are a big reason of why I have been able to survive the loss of you. They have saved me and someday, I will tell them this when they are a little older to understand exactly what that means. You were missed yesterday so very much.
I’m going to run now. It’s 4 in the morning here and I’m back to keeping the hours of a vampire. Up most of the night and functioning on just a few hours of sleep. It’s the only time I’m able to work on this book writing as Poppy takes up any other time that I have left. Dr. Sholler is actually going to be at our house in about an hour. She is here for the next few days and I’m taking her up Camelback for an early morning hike, before it gets too hot. No way I would ever take that precious cargo to the inferno. She has too many kiddos to save.
I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe.
Bye, little man.
Obsessed with this song. It may make me bawl like a baby, but it is so beautiful. Plus, Poppy loves it.
Ronan. Thanksgiving is over. There was no Macegiving this year, as our sweet Macy that saves us on every holiday, could not swing coming in. She was heartbroken about it, as were we. We all missed her so very much, but we will be seeing her soon in January which we cannot wait for. Of course I got all crazy trying to make a plan for Macegiving, without Macy. After a lot of panicking in my head, crying, and thinking how can I possibly do another holiday without you? I aborted freak out mission in my head. I made a different plan instead and it was called, “Stop putting so much pressure on yourself because it’s just another day.” I gathered my thoughts and took some time to think about what this Thanksgiving/Macegiving/Fucksgiving meant to us as a family. I talked to your daddy about what he wanted to do and what I was wanting to do and we came up with the most non-stressful, no pressure plan ever. I knew that I wanted to go to Phoenix Children’s Hospital that day for a couple of hours to take around your candy cart, so I gathered up some of my best “homies” and that is what we did. The hospital was packed, unfortunately. I was hoping it would have been empty on this holiday as it’s so hard to be stuck in a hospital on any day, but Thanksgiving day just seems extra unfair. I was glad to be there and it felt good to make so many kids/parents/siblings smile. Doing the candy cart and handing out gifts is really what got me through the day. We then came home to a super low-key Thanksgiving that wasn’t so bad and it almost just felt like another day. We hung out, ate, watched football, and had ice-cream cake for Brianna’s birthday. You were of course, were missed by us all.
Things seem to be moving at an incredible rate and not slowing down any time soon. Some how, your Poppy sister is 8 months old today. How in the world did that happen? She is getting to be so much fun and your daddy has started calling her, “The Honey Badger” because of the way she is so determined about everything in life. She is already so feisty and fun and has keeps us laughing a lot. She has been so good for us all, Ro. Your brothers absolutely adore her and she has brought back such a positive energy to our entire family. Needless to say, I don’t know what we would do without her and I am so very thankful for this little gift you have given us. I’ve said it before, but she truly has helped to save not only my life, but my soul. Tomorrow, also makes 31 months without you and I still don’t know how that is possible either. The fact that 3 years without you is approaching soon still leaves me breathless with the hugest pit in my stomach that I am starting to really believe will never go away.
I’ve also been having a really hard time writing this book. So much so that the other day, I had a full on break down about it. I’ve been writing a ton, Ronan, but that is it. Only writing and not feeling a thing, while writing. Uh, that has not been good for me at all. Part of the reason I am doing this book is because I have certain things I need to feel while writing as it has become my form of therapy. I’ve been feeling numb and stuck, which has been leaving me frustrated beyond belief. The other night when I was in the middle of one of my pity parties to your Sparkly, I totally lost it and was about to the point where I was not sure what to do or how to fix this problem. I took a little time out, had a long talk with you and what you would want from all of this, and all of a sudden it all became so clear to me. I sat down, printed out all of my words and announced to our entire house hold, “I’m starting over on this book.” Liam and Quinn were like, “WHAT?! You can’t start over! Look at all you’ve written!” Your daddy chimed in, “Boys, sometimes that is what happens and we need to just be supportive of your mom.” I started writing right then and there and I cannot seem to stop. Finally, it feels right and I am so excited about the way I am doing this. I am basically just using everything I had written out, as a road map to help me guide me along. I’m also taking a little advice from my new pal, Ernest Hemingway who says, “Write hard and clear about what hurts.” That is precisely what I am doing, all while keeping you right here with me. Thanks for the good pep talk the other night, little man. I really needed it. Now, back to book writing I go. I’m sorry for the short update, but late at night is the only time I really get to sit down and write, so I have to focus on this book.
I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe. Sweet dreams, best friend.
You asked for this, my childhood best friend. You asked me to give you some motivation to run the full Rock-n-Roll Marathon in Phoenix, this January for Ronan. You, of all people. My childhood best friend who looks like a supermodel, with your long, lanky 5’10 body and 0% body fat. You, my childhood best friend who once considered the high school required one-mile run, to be a death sentence. You, my childhood bestie, who has never in her life, considered herself a runner. You say you want to run a full marathon for the first time and in turn, I say to that… you are crazy. But you know how much I love crazy, so of course this is something I can fully get behind.
You see, it takes crazy person to do something like this. A half marathon is a victory in it’s own right, but a full marathon is a whole other ball game. A full marathon requires dropping every fear you have, and believing in yourself in a way that you never have before. There will be sore aches, blisters, toenails falling off, fatigue, cursing, screaming, crying, puking, (sometimes pissing and shitting yourself-serioulsy, I’ve seen it happen) and of course, wanting to just plain quit. I guarantee in the middle of all of this, you will hate me. But then you will remember why it is that you are doing this. You are doing this because you CAN, and Ronan cannot. You are doing this because you are alive and to truly be alive, we must do things that are outside of our comfort zone, otherwise, what is the point of life? You are doing this because you are so thankful that you are alive and healthy and your beautiful kiddos are as well. You are doing this for not only Ronan, but for all the other kids with the bald heads or who are in shallow graves/pieces of ashes. You are doing this for them, because while you are doing this, thousands of kids are sitting in hospital rooms, having chemo pumped into their tiny bodies, are hooked up to awful machines which means they have to stay inside all day when all they want is to breathe in the fresh air and play outside, but they can’t because they are sick and being robbed of their childhood. They are having body parts cut open, are too weak to open their eyes, are having radiation and transplants to try to save their lives, and you are not. You are healthy, here, and living a beautiful life that you are so thankful for. And while you are doing this, I will be right by your side, running this with you. Fuck. Did I just say that? Yeah. I just said that. I’ll run this marathon with you, even with my bad knee that is trying to tell me my running days are over. You know what I say to that knee? Fuck that knee and fuck cancer for killing my baby, too. I’m in this with you. I don’t care if I have to crawl to the finish line. I am here, I am healthy, I am alive, and I can run another marathon. I’m not letting you do this, without me.
So, you start your training and I will not. I won’t train for this because I’m training everyday of my life anyway living here without Ronan. Let’s raise a ton of money, and run this thing, together. Deal? I hope so, because I’m not doing this without you. There is no one else I would rather have by my side (besides Ronan) than you. The mom of the little girl, that my son was supposed to marry. They would have been the cutest couple, ever. The mom of the little boy, who’s big blue eyes and extra “spiciness,” remind me so much of Ro. The mom who knew my baby, loved my baby, and is still here, fighting for my baby for no other reason than because at the end of the day, you know what truly matters in life and how wrong it is that Ronan will not be waiting for us at the end of that finish line. If you are doing this, I am doing this. Laverne and Shirley until the end of time. I love you so much.
Now, it’s time to find me some corporate sponsors to do my “10 days of fake training,” again. We have some kids to save and a center to build! Hey all you little blog readers! Email us if you know of anyone that wants to sponsor me! I’ll dress up all crazy like I did last time for the peeps that throw in the most money, we’ll post the pics, and promote the awesomeness of the good deed they are doing. Or come out and run with me! Or at least cheer for me on the sidelines and glitter bomb me! Let the games begin!
Ronan. Only for you would I do this again and again and again. Anything for you. Always.
I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe.
Ronan. This is seriously my life. Last night, I was cooking dinner and I had Poppy in the sink. Let me back up a bit. Every morning and every night, when Poppy eats her solid food, I put her naked in her Bumbo chair in the sink. She gets so messy, so I feed her in there as it makes perfect sense because she is SO messy and I can just wash her off afterwords. (Hi, that’s me OCD clean freak) She likes to sit in her little chair, play with her rattles, and suck on this mesh thing that I put avocados or bananas in. Last night, while I was cooking dinner, Poppy was playing away and sucking on her little mesh holder with her mashed up avocado in it. I turned around for about 30 seconds to tend to my tacos and when I turned back around, Poppy was slumped over in her little Bumbo seat with her head down. I dropped my spatula, screamed her name, and ran over and ripped her out of her chair. The water wasn’t on or anything, but my mind instantly went to, “She’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead.” As soon as I ripped her out of that chair, she started to cry because I scared her so badly. She wasn’t dead. The poor little babe had fallen asleep, probably because she was so worn out from our very busy day of putting her in a pumpkin and taking pictures.
I felt so bad for scaring her and making her cry because I am a raging lunatic. I felt so badly, yet I know this is the way I will always be. My mind will always go to the worst place possible. I said to my friend, Katie today as we were hiking, “It takes everything I have not to take all 3 of my kids down to PCH to have them scanned from head to toe.” And I’m not kidding. It’s a fight I have with myself everyday in my head. Just because this has happened to us once, does not mean it cannot happen again. That’s not the way life works. I am fully aware of that. I live in a world where all of my kids are going to die and everything they touch or eat, is going to give them cancer. I’m so freaked out by anything that Poppy puts in her mouth, food wise. It was pretty much only organic for you and your brothers. I mean, I even made all of your baby food from scratch. Now, I’m positivly a freak about it with Poppy. And if you think I have issues there, you should see the way I pretty much refuse to leave her with anyone. I mean, I even worry when I leave her with your Daddy for a bit. The separation anxiety I am having with her might become a problem. I can’t leave her and when I do, I’m a ball of nerves. This is my life and as of now, this is just the way it is. Maybe it will change or maybe it won’t. I don’t know how you ever go back to anything ever feeling o.k. and safe again after you’ve watched one of your children, die from cancer.
So, I started this earlier today… before the amazingness of the SpiritHoods Spicy Monkey SELLING OUT happened! Are you guys serious?! I mean, I expected them to sell, but not that fast! You all are amazing. Don’t worry, our friends at SpiritHoods will be making more. I don’t think anybody expected them to sell out so fast. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! This is beyond rad. Tonight, I can go to sleep feeling so proud because this is proof that my little guy is changing the world with the help of all of you. I really, really needed this today, so thank you all again for being so supportive. And another HUGE thank you to my brother from another mother, Alexander from SpiritHoods, who shot this video and has been working along my side through this whole thing. He is going to change this world with me and help save some kids’ lives, just you all wait and see. This is just a little taste as of what is to come.
I’m signing off for tonight. More book writing to do. I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe, Ronan. I love you to the moon and back
I love you all, too. Thank you for helping in this fight and for being better people because of my son.
Ronan. I am currently watching your Poppy sister play in her crib. At almost 6 months old, she has still not spent a night alone. Is that bad? I’m not sure as I had all 3 of you boys in your cribs from pretty much the time that you came home from the hospital. Babies in our beds happened sometimes, but not all the time like we are doing with this Poppy girl. Your daddy has been saying lately that it’s time for Poppy to go in her crib. I do my best, “No way, never happening” rant. It usually goes a little something like this, “Kids who sleep in their cribs, die. I’ve sat in support groups where I’ve heard at least 3 stories of 8 month old babies who just up and die. She’s not going in her crib, to die.” The part about the stories I’ve heard are true, and although I’ll admit I’m being a little dramatic, I’m not about to be separated through the night from your Poppy sister.
My mind never gets to be naïve anymore and I am more than paranoid. Here is another example of how fucked up and crazy it is to live inside of my head. I was out to breakfast with Fernanda and Stacy the other morning and Fernanda was standing up with Poppy, bouncing her to sleep. She started to sing her “Silent Night.” You know, the song I always sang to you, before you got sick. I completely freaked out. “YOU CANNOT SING THAT SONG TO HER! THAT SONG IS JINXED! IT’S THE SONG OF DEATH!” Fernanda and Stacy both just looked at me like I had 8 heads. “Sing her Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, like you used to do for Ronan, instead!” Poor Fernanda started singing “Twinkle Twinkle” and Stacy just looked at me and rolled her eyes. I didn’t want to get into the whole song thing, but I remember when you first got sick how I told Tricia and Marisa something crazy about that song. “I always sang him ‘Silent Night.” Is that because he’s going to die and now the nights are going to be silent without him?” They both told me that was not the case, but here we are today. I know “Silent Night,” did not have anything to do with your death, but what if it was the world’s way of telling me you were actually going to die. These are the fun things I get to think about now. No “Silent Night” singing for Poppy allowed.
The Gold Party came and went and I still feel like I am recovering emotionally from it. It was beautiful and sparkly, just the way you would have liked it. I spent the night with my most favorite people, minus a few who couldn’t make it. It truly was such a beautiful night. The night ended with me saying to Stacy and Fernanda, “I feel like Ronan would really want us to jump in the pool.” After a little Stacy magic which meant talking to the amazing W people who were in charge of the event, that is precisely what we did, in our fancy clothes into the pool we went. It was me, Stacy, Fernanda, and your Fairy RoMo. We laughed, swam a lap, and I sat at the end of the pool and cried with Fernanda. I said things like, “I still can’t believe he is gone.” I’ll never get over the shock of this all or come to terms with any of this. This reality never becomes any easier no matter how much time passes by. Everything hurts just as much, Ronan. But in that pool swimming laughing/crying moment, I still felt so thankful for all the beautiful people you have put in our lives. I am a lucky, lucky girl in that regard.
I’m doing my best here, but sometimes everything I am doing, takes a toll. Besides just how much I miss you, I really miss just being able to be a mom and that’s it. I am in a constant state of feeling like I am being pulled in a thousand different directions. I am about to scream, “TIME OUT!!” and run away to New York. I know that is not the answer, but sometimes I wish it were that easy. I’ve been getting a lot of emails about this blog and my not writing as much. A lot of you are worried and asking questions like, “Is this the end of the blog, because you are not updating it as much!” I don’t think I will ever stop writing this blog, but it is going to have to go on the back burner for a while as my book writing, running a foundation, and being a mom to a new baby, takes up any free time that I may have. It makes me sad as this blog has been my outlet and my therapy, for so long. I promise to get back to it when I can, but for now, other things have to take priority. I used to do all of my writing really late at night, but it seems that I cannot get enough sleep lately. That means, come 9:00 p.m., I am sound asleep with Poppy. Until that 3:30 a.m. witching hour comes about, then I am up, but I am usually playing catch up on emails or foundation things that I HAVE to get done. This leaves not much time for blog writing. I promise to try to be a little better as I do miss this and all of you, very much.
My grief has also been being ignored, which is not good. How is it that I am too busy, to be still with my grief? I’ll tell you how.
A new baby
Having two 10 year olds who are in 3 different sports/homework/projects that are never-ending
Trying to be a wife
Running a house
Trying to keep up with friendships and maintaining them. Being a friend while being a bereaved parent is REALLY hard work. Luckily, the friends I have, who have stayed around, are seriously the best. They are not even friends anymore, as I consider them family
Having a brother who I’m in a constant state of worry about
Trying to get back into a good exercise routine as bye bye baby weight is in full effect around here because my skinny jeans are just sitting there, taunting me in my closet. I know, I know, priorities and this one seems pretty stupid, but it goes back to my childhood and dad who was always calling my mom not very nice names. I obviously have deeply rooted issues thanks to this.
That leaves pretty much 0 time to spend with myself and with my grief. I tried to get up to Sedona this weekend, to see Dr. Jo, but it just didn’t work out. So, what’s a girl to do because I know what happens when I ignore my grief. I turn into a complete basket case who likes to take too much Ambien. Wait, before you freak out, that was the old, really broken and shattered me. Not the new mom to a baby, I know I cannot do that anymore and I would never, ever even take one, let alone 5. I am going to make a game plan this week with Dr. Jo about how I can get back to just being still with everything, even if that just means I do it while I am hiking with Poppy. If that’s the only time I get to be still, it’s better than nothing.
One more thing. Thanks to the Phoenix Coyotes, we now have some money to be more consistent about doing the Candy Cart at PCH. We have decided to start doing it once a month, which I am super excited about. If any of you have any non candy goodies, you would like to send my way, that would be awesome. We also bring things for the kids who cannot eat so they do not feel left out. Things like toys, books, coloring books, stickers, crayons… you get the idea. Everything must be new and not used. Please send to the P.O. Box where all of the foundation things get delivered. The address is below.
The Ronan Thompson Foundation
P.O. Box 44935
Thank you all so much for bearing with me during this quiet time and respecting that I am trying to do my best, I am just feeling a little overwhelmed right now.
It’s almost 9:00 which means I’m done for the day. Time to curl up with this Poppy girl.
G’nite Ronan. I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe.