06/23/2026
Today, I did a hard thing.
For years, whenever life felt overwhelming, we would remind Kinlee:
"You can do hard things."
Then came her diagnosis.
Through surgeries.
Through radiation.
Through hospital stays.
Through fear.
Through pain.
She did hard things every single day.
This morning, I was up at 5 a.m. in the middle of a panic attack.
My heart was racing.
My mind was spiraling. I was crying uncontrollably, waking my husband, just wanting my baby. Another wave of reality taking me out.
Every part of me wanted to cancel my therapy appointment.
I was scared.
Not because I didn't want help, but because I knew walking through that door meant facing some of the deepest pain I've ever known.
But then I thought about my girl.
The little girl who faced things most adults couldn't imagine.
The little girl who taught me what courage really looks like.
And I could almost hear her saying the words we told her so many times:
"Mama, you can do hard things too."
So I went.
I sat down.
I talked.
I cried. So did my therapist.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt something that has been hard to find:
Hope.
Healing won't happen in a single session.
Grief won't disappear.
I will still miss Kinlee tomorrow just as much as I miss her today.
But today was a step.
A hard, terrifying, brave step.
And if you're carrying something heavy right now—grief, trauma, anxiety, loss, depression, fear—I hope you'll hear this:
Doing the hard thing doesn't mean you're not afraid.
It means you're afraid and you do it anyway.
Today, I did a hard thing.
Turns out, Stink was right all along.
I can do hard things too. 💕
