Daily Post 112: All of The Things

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This is an email I wrote about an hour ago to my older brother to keep him posted on my life so far since I’ve been back in Orlando. There’s a crapton that’s happened between the last time I wrote and now. I don’t feel bad about not writing. I’ve thought about it off and on but haven’t had it in me to actually do it.

 

Life doesn’t suck, but it’s really hard right now, and the biggest factor into it being hard isn’t the fact that mom died. It’s the fact that Zane and I can’t seem to have a conversation without it devolving until either a pissing contest or emo hurt feelings.

 

Fucking relationships and breakups…

 

Anyway, here’s the update.


 

Hey,

 

I figured email was the better option since there’s so many things to update on.

 

Car:

I can’t transfer the loan to Zane. I can’t add him to the loan. The car dealership will give me $6,500 for it. So now the ball is in Zane’s court. He needs to call / go to banks and see if he can get his own loan, or find someone willing to get a loan for him. Currently he can’t afford car payments. I’m not leave Orlando while still having a car loan, so if he can’t figure something out, and I don’t sell it to another person then I’m going to take it back to the dealership.

 

Work:

I’m going to be staying at work for two months until the new curriculum rolls out. This helps everyone out. In two months we will actually be over staffed, but by then two of us will be leaving so it works out. It allows me to keep my benefits and to make some final appointments like going to the dentist and doctor. I might get my eyes checked out as well though I won’t be able to get new frames for another year to that’s iffy.

 

I have reached out to HR about the contract I have with the school in regards to my second degree. My advisor said he would ask around discreetly to see what the repercussions of leaving would be, but that it is usually determined on a case by case basis, so I’m not thinking they will be able to find out much for me.

 

It also lets me go through a normal exit process, which can be planned for.

 

Because I will have my benefits for a while I am going to go to counseling while I’m here. I actually have an appointment scheduled for 1pm today. Instead of having only a handful of sessions I’m going to try to go to her weekly since I’ll be in town.

 

Apartment:

Apparently my other two roommates are moving out as well, so even if I had decided to stay Zane would still be screwed. I have talked to the leasing office. Under the circumstances they agreed that we would reissue the lease taking a different option for breaking the lease. Instead of having to pay rent until the unit is rented out again, we could pay a flat rate (two months worth of rent) and end it.

 

Uke and Hannah do not move out until June, which lines up for when I would want to be back in Vegas (July). I would be here to sign whatever paperwork is necessary. Zane wants to keep the apartment and I suppose will be looking for new roommates to take the empty rooms.

 

He won’t sign me off of the lease unless new tenants can be found. Breaking the lease is a last resort in his mind. If the lease is broken then I don’t owe him rent. At the moment rent money for the current apartment is being taken from the $2000 of debt he has towards me for when I covered his expenses while he was unemployed.

 

There’s a bunch of other drama going on with Zane. He has a new girlfriend so there is literally no room in the apartment for me to use as my own. I plan to negotiate with him today about lowering the amount I pay for rent due to the fact that I don’t contribute to any of the utilities used and I can’t stay at the apartment and am having to stay with a friend. Conversations with him are always confrontational so I don’t imagine it will go well, but in my head it’s not fair to pay the same amount as everyone else and to have less than (in my head, nothing) when I was told that I would be able to stay at the apartment when I got back to Orlando.

 

I will keep you posted on those happenings.

 

Storage:

I plan to get a small storage unit for my things so they are not in the apartment with Zane. I would be more comfortable with them in a different location. With how some of our confrontations have gone I don’t want the possibility of him storing my stuff at the apartment to be used against me or as leverage.

 

Phones:

Zane and I have a phone plan together with Verizon. My phone was a gift for when I helped him through his unemployment. I was looking at paying the amounts on the phones off but paying $1000 for both phones would only lower the phone bill by $40, so it’s not a very cost effective option.

 

I am going to see what it would cost to have my own phone line and if that is even an option I can do.

 

I was wonder what type of phone plane you and Lio have, and what the cost of adding my line to yours would be. Sometimes that cheaper than having a single line. I could pay the difference it would make to your monthly statement if this is a possibility you are A) comfortable with entertaining and B) able to do.

 

No worries if not. It’s just an option I thought of and would like to explore if able to. If not then I plan to see if I can switch back to MetroPC service since it’s unlimited everything for only $40 a month. Again, all of this hinges on being able to transfer my phone away from Verizon, so none of these options may be available to me. I have to find that out today.


 

I think that’s it for the most part. I’m sure there are other things but I think those are the biggest areas. If you could let me know your opinion about the phone idea I would appreciate it.

 

Other than that I’ll keep on keeping on and let you know about developments.

 

I love you. Thank you for being awesome and helping me through this.

Letters to Mom 001: Figuring it Out

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This was written a few days ago.
I didn’t have it in me to post after writing,
so it’s being posted now.


 

Hi mom,

 

I’ve talked to you a few times but this is the first time that I’ve sat down to write since last Monday. Since you passed. April 4th, 2016. A day that I hope to always remember. The last day I said, “I love you,” in person. The day I had my last hug.

 

I started getting angry. At you. At life. At everything. We did everything right. And I thought I would be able to write this without crying. I guess that was sort of silly.

 

I don’t want to be angry. Especially not at you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I know you didn’t want this. I know that you’re still here. I know you would be frustrated with Jon just like all of us are. I’m sorry that we’re still being siblings and that I still don’t know how to correctly handle him being a selfish jerk and not listening to anyone when we tell him what needs to happen.

 

If you couldn’t get him to listen to reason then none of us have a chance in hell and we all know that. So he’s off, doing his own thing, which is making it that much harder on me, because he’s Jon. And all I can do is sigh and let go of all of that negativity because there’s literally nothing I can do about it.

 

I’m sorry that I’m angry sometimes. I don’t want to be, but it wells up in my chest. These feelings of injustice. Of wrongness. Of wanting a target to direct all of it at. But there isn’t one. Least of all you. I know it would make you sad to know I’m mad and I don’t want that because I know that if you could you would still be here.

 

I went to the gym today with Lio, Jason, and Jace.

 

I’m going to be taking over the lease for you. I don’t need three bedrooms. It’s so much space I feel like I’ll get lost in the apartment by myself, but I looked at one bedrooms. They’re further way from Jason, and I don’t like that. They’re in busier parts of Vegas and I don’t like that either. I like the area you picked. It’s in biking distance of literally everything. All of the furniture is already here, and the garage means that we don’t have to pay for a storage unit for Jon’s things since he still wants to go to Full Sail.

 

At the moment I don’t really care what he does as long as he’s not living with me. We wouldn’t be good roommates. I’m pretty sure you knew that though. He was a shitty roommate for you when he lived at home. He hasn’t changed. Still leaves food out, eats and takes things that aren’t his. He still leaves a mess that he’ll, “get to later”.

 

I’ve moved stuff around. We donated a lot of your stuff to Goodwill. It didn’t bother me, packing it into boxes. Those bowl that I was praying you would get rid of when you moved to Vegas… somehow they made the cut when you moved so I got to get rid of them myself. I didn’t think it would be hard. And packing them away wasn’t.

 

Giving them to the people at Goodwill… letting go of another part of you. That hurt. I didn’t think it would but I cried on the way home. I was alone. I made the trip on my own because I didn’t think it was a big deal. But driving away was. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that some of those things didn’t mean anything to me even though they were super important to you.

 

Originally I thought I was going to be moving back to Orlando. I thought I was going to get my own place there. I hadn’t really figured out what I wanted to do other than not live with Zane anymore.

 

He says he’s been supportive of me through this whole situation. But all I can think about were the phone calls where he said he was upset because he would have to pay my half of rent even though I said I would continue to pay it. Or how he wasn’t blaming me and he understood my choices but that all of this was my fault. How he felt abandoned even though I was holding your hand every night, hoping that the bad days were just part of the recovery. How he wanted to talk about payments the morning before you died, the morning I left feeling like that was the last time, and it was.

 

I didn’t feel supported, and now he says he won’t be able to take more time off because he’s used it all “for me” even though I haven’t been in Orlando, and I didn’t ask him to take any time off at all, so I don’t know how it was “for me”. And I refuse to feel guilty for his choices.

 

He says that I said he “makes me feel like shit,” when I never said those words. I said I was tired of Jon making me feel bad, and Zane asked if he makes me feel bad, and I answered with yes. Sometimes. Because that’s the truth.

 

I don’t want to go back to him. So even if I stayed in Orlando, I wouldn’t stay at the apartment. And even if I stayed in Orlando I wouldn’t go back to Full Sail because even though Clavan has been beyond understanding and kind, the school itself sucks and I’m tired of working at a place where I don’t feel fulfilled anymore.

 

I hadn’t really figured out what I wanted to do, but the general ideal was to get my own place and figure it out. Maybe take a year, literally, to mourn your loss and focus on myself like what I’ve wanted to do, but was never able to.

 

And then this past weekend I took a trip to LA to see my friends. The ones I’m never able to see because I live so far away. It was nice. It confirmed that I don’t want to live there. That no company or studio could pay me enough to deal with the bull shit of trying to find parking for 20 minutes every day. Or an hour commute, both ways, everyday. It’s not worth it. I don’t want it. I wouldn’t be happy doing it, and that’s all you ever wanted for me. To be happy.

 

Being near Jason helps. I don’t know if I’m really happy right now. I don’t know what I am. Surviving. Learning. But I know that I wouldn’t do well in Orlando. I know in a few months it will finally be real. Just like when Mother Earth moved away. It took three months to be true. I spent all of that day feeling off, different, angsty. So I drove to the Waffle House we ate at a few times thinking it would help. Maybe being somewhere we had shared memories together would ease things over and make me feel better. I completely broke down in the parking lot. I couldn’t even make it out of my car. I sat and cried, and cried, and cried, until finally there was nothing left and I drove home.

 

I know that’s going to happen with you, too, mom. I don’t know when. But one day, I’m going to want to call you. And I won’t remember that I can’t until I have the phone in my hand, typing in your number, and it will hit me. You’re not here, and I can’t talk to you like that anymore. And it will kill something inside me. The wound I have packed so much earth over will erupt and all of these emotions that I haven’t figured out yet will come pouring out.

 

I’m not bottling them up. Looking back at my history I don’t think I ever bottled anything up. I think that my emotions are more like a super volcano. It takes time, sometimes a lot of time, for them to come up. And when they do it’s a huge event. I don’t know… maybe that is bottling it up since a volcano needs pressure and what not for there to be an eruption, and maybe I’m going to deep into this comparison because it’s easier to think about logic than emotions.

 

Blah.

 

I don’t know. I wish I did. I wish I had answers, and I don’t. I have feelings, and right now I feel that being near Jason is right, and being in Orlando is wrong. So I’m staying, and that means I have to figure out how to get my stuff out here, all while Jon screws around with stuff while I’m not there because he doesn’t want to wait for me to fly back out.

 

Jace ran up to me today at the gym. He held my hand as he said, “Hi!” I think that would have made you smile. I think he’s getting used to me being around. I like that. I like that he’s starting to see me as family and a “safe” person.

 

Jason and Lio are going to help me condition for the military. I think that I need to be near them for right now, but I also feel the need to be away. I need to travel. To leave.

 

I feel like stone right now. I’m going through the motions because it’s what I’ve done for my whole life. Wake up, shower. Sometimes I eat. Figure out what needs to get done and do it. I don’t sleep very well. I sleep… but I didn’t feel rested this morning. I didn’t want to get out of bed or do anything. I did, though. I think that should count for something.

 

And I went to the gym. Lio added me to her membership so I can go whenever I want, as many times a day as I want.

 

I might get a part time job, stocking selves or something like that. Something not around many people. Maybe I can volunteer somewhere. I’m not going to focus on it though. If something lines up and works out, cool. If not, I have a year. I’m giving myself a year. I think I’m allowed that. Mother Earth says I’m owed that.

 

 

Again, I don’t know. And I wish I did. Not having to worry about work and putting on a smile, and answering the same questions over and over again when I know they’re answered in a podcast, that thought makes me happy. Waking up, eating breakfast, going to the gym, working on my own personal projects, or doing art, or completing a script that I want to do, that makes me happy. That thought brings me some sense of peace, and that’s what I want right now. That’s what I need.

 

Not relationship drama, or sibling rivalry, or work that drains my beaten and bloody soul away.

 

I keep pushing off the military because I get involved with someone. Every time. It’s a relationship that I end up getting into, and then it goes badly and I fall into depression that I have to fight my way out of. It’s a cycle. One that I’ve repeated three times so far.

 

I’m not going to repeat it again. I’m going to move to Vegas where Jason and Lio will hold me accountable. Where they’ll remind me of what I really want. Where they’ll be able to help me through the crushing loneliness that I know I will feel, that no one can fill. Not even them. But Jason will know.

 

He knew you. He understands what isn’t here any more. We’ll be able to talk about the times you cooked us steaks in exchange for doing our “to-do lists” when we came home to visit. We’ll be able to talk about the hospital stays because we were both there. We’ll be able to share in the feelings of injustice because we both feel cheated right now. We love you mom, so much, and I wish you were still here for me to hug and talk to in person.

 

I’ve read your letter to me a few times. I’m having the final line in it etched onto your urn. That way whenever I look at it I’ll see your words. “I love you, forever and for always.”

 

I love you too mom. I hope I haven’t done anything to make you mad at me. I’m trying so hard to do everything right. I’m trying to figure it out. I’m trying to keep moving forward in a direction that would make me happy because if that was all you wanted of me then not doing that isn’t honoring your wish. I just wish I knew what it was that would take away this hurt and unfairness. This anger.

 

I know I’ll be happy again, eventually. I know it’s not lost because the other night, while Jon was still here, he did something silly and we all laughed, and laughed, and laughed. It was infectious. Because someone was still laughing the rest of us were, and then we would make eye contact and start laughing again. We laughed until we couldn’t breathe and our sides hurt and we had tears in our eyes. And then I was crying. Crying because you weren’t there laugh with us. You wouldn’t be there to know about this inside joke. And I tried so hard to keep it together, but I couldn’t, and I’m sorry. I had to go outside and cry silent tears as the feelings of missing you tore at my chest.

 

I love you mom. I’m going to keep writing to you and talking to you and I don’t care if people think I’m crazy. It’s what I need right now. I can’t talk to you in person but I can still talk and maybe, hopefully, you can still hear me, and sometimes you can still give me guidance because you always had the best advice.

 

I miss you. And I’m not mad at you. I promise it’s not you and that you did nothing wrong. And I promise that I’ll keep figuring things out, one step at a time. One day at a time.

 

Some days are better than others so far. Some hours better than others. Writing helped a little. Crying helped a little, too. Which means that I need to drink even more water because I used most of what my body had during the Combat Body class with Lio and now even more precious water was used for tears. Stupid tears…

 

/sigh

 

I love you mom. For ever and for always. Thanks for listening to me bitch about life. I feel better for it. It’s almost as good as if we were on the phone.

Daily Post 111: Coping

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Mornings are the hardest part of the day it seems. I think that’s because in the morning nothing has started yet. I’m not busy yet. The to-do list hasn’t begun to roll. I’m alone with my thoughts.

 

Everything is heavy in the morning.

 

The past few days I haven’t had any pots or pans for cooking so there’s not breakfast / morning routine. We got rid of all of mom’s things because we thought I would be going back to Orlando. During my trip to LA that changed, though. I’m staying in mom’s apartment, which I’m actually ok with.

 

Today I went out and got a new ceramic pot set since Zane will be keeping the one I just got. I got a knife set finally. I got new dishes from Walmart along with a set of cups. I got a welcome mat for the front door. While I was having dinner at my brother’s house Lio offered to let me have some lamps she was going to get rid of, along with a three-tiered plant holder since she remembered me mentioning wanting to have an herb garden.

 

I’ve rearranged the cabinets in the kitchen three times now, trying to find the flow of things. I bought coat hangers so I’m not living out of my gym bag anymore. Not that I really have much with me. It will be nice to have all of my workout stuff again.

 

I found a dojo that I’m most likely going to be joining. Well… technically it is a dojang, but yeah… it’s a school for taekwondo. I looked for an aikido dojo, but all of the ones I found online were about an hour’s drive from me. Taekwondo isn’t my first choice, but it is an extremely close second.

 

I think this dojang will be what I’m looking for. The grandmaster was extremely nice. I like the fact she’s a girl, and maybe that’s sexist of me, but right now it is appreciated.

 

It’s still hard sometimes, and I know that I haven’t fully allowed myself to grieve. We still don’t have mom back. We haven’t spread her ashes yet. There’s still so many people to talk to, and things to coordinate, and places to go, and stuff to pack, and all of these “things” that need to get done. I haven’t had much time to myself even though I’m in the apartment “alone” most of the time. So much communicating. Sometimes I don’t have it in me and I just let the phone go to voice mail. Whatever it is will still be there later after I’m not burnt out on saying the same things over and over.

 

“Yes, it was sudden for all of us… Thank you for your condolences… No, there’s nothing we need at the moment…”

 

I feel like a broken record sometimes. Most of the time. A side-effect is that I’m sort of numb to the information now. It’s just words. Facts. Logic. They don’t hurt me like they did a week ago. They don’t claw into my chest, dragging out my heart in sliced ribbons. Overly dramatic, but pretty accurate on the pain scale.

 

One of my friends who has also lost his mom said that one positive side, nothing will ever hurt me the way this does, so everything else pretty much just rolls off like water.

 

Jon and I hashed a bit of stuff out. Zane and I did, too. That was most of this morning. Fighting and apologizing. On both sides. It takes two after all. I’m still not going back to live in Orlando. I might be able to get extended leave with work for up to 12 weeks. I’m waiting on the HR person to call me back since we’re playing phone tag.

 

I guess I’m just writing to write at this point. It feels good to sit down and list positive things that have happened. It’s been one week. I’ve gone to the gym three times. I ran a little over a mile today. It’s the first time I’ve run in over a month I’m sure. It burned, but I make it through all of my intervals. Go me.

 

I’m alive. I’m coping. I’m “learning to me” as Mama Spike would say. And I think right now that’s what I need the most. Tomorrow is tentatively a soul search day. I have to figure out who I am now. I’m no longer a teacher. I’m no longer a daughter even though I still have my dad. I only feel mildly guilty for saying he doesn’t count since he hasn’t been a part of my life for so long. I’m no longer a student, at least not as far as earning a second degree goes. I’m not longer a lover to someone since the relationship with Zane is over.

 

My life has changed so much. So who am I now? Who do I want to be?

 

Totally not up for that much brain power right now. Maybe tomorrow. But… for now, it’s shower time and then bed time. There weren’t dreams about spiders last night. Hopefully tonight is another dreamless night.

Letters to Mom 000: I Promise

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I don’t know what to say. I said everything I needed to while I held your hand, running my fingers through your hair like I have for the past two weeks. I told you how much I loved you and how I knew you raised me to be strong. I told you that I knew you loved me that that I knew you were proud of me.

 

I know all of these things. I was so fortunate to have two more weeks with you. I know I am lucky that you made it through the surgery and that you fought through the antiseptics and that I got to talk to you one last time. I’ll always remember how you answered my question of “Do you know who I am?” with your typical eye roll as if to say, “Of course I do. What type of question is that?”

 

I will always be grateful that I was able to be your “water fairy” as I dipped those awful tasting sponge swabs into cups of water for you.

 

I am so fortunate that I was able to give two weeks of my life to you for the lifetime of love and support you gave me.

 

We’re lucky that the family was able to be together one last time. That you got to see Jace one last time. We got the “One Last Time” that everyone wishes that they had. The last goodbye, the last hug, the last “I love you.”

 

I’m sorry I left the hospital to go home and sleep. I’m sorry that even though on the inside it felt wrong, that I did it anyway because everyone kept telling me to go home and sleep and eat, and all of these silly, mundane, everyday things that could have waited while I held your hand just a little longer.

 

I will always cherish the memories of falling asleep in that horrible hospital chair next to your bed, listening to your breathing as if it were my very own personal lullaby.

 

I love you so much mom and I know you raised me to get through this. I’m sorry that it hurts right now and that I can’t seem to stop crying even though my eyes burn, my head hurts, and my nose can’t take much more abuse from all of these stupid tissues.

 

You were and are so loved. You cared about so many people and helped everyone that you met. Lio said the best comment today in the car as we drove home from the hospital. You took in more kids then you took in stray cats. And that’s saying a lot for how many cats we had.

 

That comment made me smile so much because it’s so true and the perfect picture of who you are. You loved unconditionally. You gave freely. You were the kindest, most generous person I have ever had the honor of meeting. And how awesome is it that I get to say that you were my mom? Pretty freaking awesome, right?

 

You were my best friend, my mentor, my confidant, my role model.

 

I know I will make it through this, and I’m so sorry that right now I don’t understand how. I’m sorry that I don’t have a plan or road map and that I don’t understand how to deal with these emotions because I can’t figure out what they are. It’s just this giant rat’s nest of a ball inside my chest.

 

Thank you for everything you ever did for me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for being there and carrying on when dad left. Thank you for taking me to marching band practice and making turtle bars and proof reading my essays and listening to me bitch about relationship drama and whining about John being a jerk. Thank you for always letting me come visit when I needed to get away from my life. Thank you for going out to Moe’s with me, always, no questions asked. Thank you for the million, countless things that I never thanked you for, for the things I don’t know about, for being you. Thank you for being awesome and for loving me.

 

I miss you even though I know you’re not really gone. I know with time it will get easier, and I know that if you were here you would hug me and tell me that it will be ok. I’ll get better. I promise.

 

I promise I’ll keep making you proud. I promise I won’t give up or fall to pieces. I promise to fight through the depression I know will follow the first time I realize I can’t call you for advice.

 

I’m not going to say goodbye because I know you’re still with me. I’m not going to let myself feel alone or lost because I know I’m not even though part of my brain feels that way. It’s like Aunt Brenda said, you and I come from a long line of strong women and I will honor that line by being strong as well. I will continue on and I will bring you honor in everything I do. You made me who I am. You prepared me for life, and you gave me the greatest gift anyone could ever have.

 

You gave me “One last time.”

 

I love you so much, mom. Forever and always. Thank you, and be at peace knowing that I will be ok. I promise.

 

mom1

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Musing Moment 089: Moments of Anger, Fear, and Worry

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I haven’t written in days. And that is a total lie. I haven’t written a daily post in days. Truth. So much truth, and maybe I should have. Maybe that would have made two days ago easier since that day sucked. I don’t know what day that was… Thursday? It’s the weekend already, almost two weeks since “The Day”. Just like the stroke last year is “The Thing” inside my head, the day I got the call from my brother is “The Day”.

 

I need to take time just to write. Not to people explaining the situation, or updating about mom, or asking about if the rent payment was made, or what I need to do for Social Security, or begging people for money to help me move because with all my debt I’m not financially well-off enough to be able to make it out to mom on my own.

 

I have all of these fears and worries and memories that I haven’t given them the time they need and so today the only thing I want to do is stay in bed. John wants me to wash something for mom and all I can think of is how I don’t want to because the only thing I’ve really asked him to do since this whole thing started was put gas in the car and he couldn’t do that for me. He went to one, single, gas station and I guess they only took cash, so he didn’t do it because all he had was his card. Lets ignore the fact there is a gas station one stop light away from mom’s apartment, or two directly across from the hospital. Let’s ignore the fact that he’s driven the car around and gotten his tongue pierced since he’s been out here, or the fact that I feel like I’m literally his live-in maid at the moment because he can’t be bothered to throw away his half-eaten cup of fruit into the trash can which is literally right above where he left it on the counter.

 

I remember the day after I got to Vegas how they said mom could have flavored water droplets in the water we used for her sponge swabs so I went to the Target down the street. Well… first I went to the gas station, which is how I found out they don’t have flavored water droplets. So that didn’t work. On to another store, just like it could have been on to another gas station for John. If it doesn’t work the first time then you find another way.

 

So I went to Target. I needed to get other things like food anyway since we didn’t know how long we would be in ICU. And I remember standing in the aisle looking at the display and almost breaking down into a mess on the floor because I didn’t now what flavor mom would want. What type of daughter am I that I don’t even know what flavor water my mom would want? Here she is maybe dying, literally, and I couldn’t figure out what to get her.

 

There’s the night she was in pain, begging me to make it stop, and the feelings of powerlessness, helplessness of not being able to do anything on my own. The realization of I don’t know what. That this is real. That it’s not a dream, that mom really is sick and that my degree does nothing to help me help her.

 

There’s the worry that the move out here isn’t the right thing. Maybe I’m just making things worse.

 

I don’t have a job at the moment. I don’t have a relationship because “I’ve made it obvious I can’t have a relationship without sex,” so Zane and I are over. He said he’s tired of trying. There’s the worry of getting back to Orlando to pack my stuff and how Zane is going to be there and I’m going to have to sleep in the apartment and be around him when I don’t want to be. I don’t want him to touch me because just the thought of him hurts my core right now.

 

And how messed up is that? I wasn’t happy in the relationship. I didn’t feel loved so why does it hurt to think that it’s over? Why does it bother me that he wants me to stay and how he’s upset that I’m leaving because we were supposed to build a home together? We were eventually going to break up anyway because I didn’t want to go to California. Why does it have to hurt to have things end now for a legitimate reason? Why do I have to feel guilty?

 

I feel like I’ll never see my car again and that I’ll keep making payments on something that I’ll never use. That even if I do eventually get it back from Zane he’ll have taken people out in it, done who knows what in it. It won’t be mine anymore. Maybe I should just sell it and use the money I get to pay off my car loan as much as I can.

 

Because I don’t work at the school any longer I won’t be able to finish my second degree. Not that I was all that invested in it, but I was looking forward to having two and feeling smart and other selfish vain shit.

 

John and I fought last night because I was late getting to the hospital. During the morning while we switched shifts sitting with mom he said I was too high strung, that I needed to do something for myself to relax and chill out. So I had dinner with our older brother. He cooked steaks and had shrimp and offered me to come over so I wasn’t alone and could be with family. So I went. And it was awesome and everything that I needed it to be. We talked about mom’s lungs and getting power of attorney and how I was going to move and all sorts of things that we needed to talk about. I ended up being late and John said how he was annoyed with me.

 

Go fuck yourself.

 

I’ve done laundry and dishes and cooked and paid all of mom’s bills and hacked all of her accounts so things could get paid on time, and called to get late fees waived. I’m looking into moving the apartment to a first floor since mom won’t be able to handle the stairs very well. I have quit my job, I ended a relationship, quit school, I’m going to lose more of what little I have as far as worldly possessions go, I’m losing my network of friends in Orlando. My whole life has literally shifted in the course of a week and when I’m told to “relax” I’m given shit for actually doing it.

 

Go burn in a fire with hot sauce in your eye balls you ungrateful dick of a brother.

 

It’s not like I went to a club and got smashed, or hooked up with a random guy, or went gambling. I was talking to family, our brother, who needs information to help me take care of everything that needs to be taken care of, and you’re going to be upset with me for being 30 minutes late?

 

Why don’t you try taking care of yourself? Why don’t you try doing something to help?

 

And I guess all of his frustration with me stems from the fact that I went to Full Sail and mom helped me with that, but she wouldn’t help him when he asked. He’s mad that Jason and I originally thought he would be the best person to take care of mom since he used to be a nursing assistant and how “we don’t care about his plans or what he wants to do” even though every time someone asks him “What are you doing when you get out of the military” he doesn’t know. He has a different answer every freaking time. He’s upset that no one has offered to help him move his own stuff. He’s upset that no one asks him how he’s doing, even though every time I do ask he says he’s fine, and I don’t the energy in me to fight to get to the truth. If he doesn’t want to talk, fine. I’m having a hard enough time with my own stuff. I need him to take care of himself, which he apparently can’t do even though mom raised both of us.

 

I don’t have it in me to fight with him and continue taking care of everything else. Part of me wants him to go back to Germany because at least there he’s not making a mess in mom’s car and apartment, the car I just got done cleaning out which now looks like a second bedroom because all of his shit and trash.

 

I want to know this is the right course of action, and I don’t. I want to know that I’m doing the right thing, and I don’t.

 

I want to not feel guilty or shamed. I have so much support from outside my immediate circle it brings me to tears, but Zane and John are being themselves. I feel like it’s selfish of them. I want them to be understanding and compassionate but john is still too immature to think past himself and Zane’s a sociopath who while understanding emotions never empathized so I don’t know why I’m hurt over the lack of empathy now.

 

I have a list of things I ought to be doing right now and instead I’m pouring out all of this garbage onto a blank page as if it’s going to help fix things. Even though John and I have talked it doesn’t feel fixed. It won’t get better if I don’t wash the stupid pillow, but that’s the last thing I want to do because he’s an ass who hasn’t done anything to help me since he’s been here, and I’m sure that’s a lie, but right now I can’t think of anything he’s done to actually benefit me in this situation. And right now I want to be selfish and be tit-for-tat with shit. You want me to wash something for you, on top of all the trips to the store I’ve made to buy you things, and all of the chores I’ve done without you asking?

 

Go fuck yourself.

 

I want to cry and I can’t. I’m too tired to. My body refuses to make the tears even though my shoulders shake. I’ve been eating better, two meals, sometimes three, but every time afterward I have to fight off nausea because I really don’t want to eat at all. I’m forcing myself to do it and my body tries to retaliate.

 

I want a hug and compassion and for someone to hold me and let me cry everything out so I can feel better and not have all of the negativity inside me. I want to not worry about holding someone’s hand over the phone, trying to make them feel better about having to pay double rent when I did that for half of our relationship. I want to know I can count on John to not walk away from me when he’s pissed and to tell me about the scan results because in no world is it right for him to withhold that information from me just because I’m late.

 

Right now, sitting in the apartment alone I have nothing left in me to give. I’m burnt out from anger, fear, and worry. I’m burnt out from doing. I’m burnt out from change. I’m burnt out and somehow I have to keep going. I have to get these things done because if I don’t do it they’ll pile up and be unmanageable in the future.

 

This is a moment of feeling overwhelmed. These feelings will pass and I know they will. I know that I will be ok and my family will make it work. I know I will keep reaching out and letting people know how things are going, which they’re going better. We get closer and closer to leaving the hospital every day. I don’t want John to stay with us. I want him to stay with Jason and be away from me because I feel like I’ll constantly fight with him otherwise. It makes me remember why I moved out of mom’s place in the first place.

 

I’m so good at finding the positive points when I’m explaining things to other people. But right now I don’t see any. Right now I’m fighting with myself on going to the gym because there will be people there and it’s new, and it’s so much easier to go back into my mom’s room, curl up with her blanket and do nothing and hope that it really is all just a horrible dream and that I’ll wake up and my biggest worry will be biking against the wind to get to work, or dealing with an annoying student who dicked around in class instead of paying attention, or working shitty hours 5pm to 1am, or Zane not wanting to be intimate even though my skin’s on fire.

 

But this isn’t a dream. This is my reality. I need to learn to cope with it.

Helping Super Mom

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At 3am on March 22nd I woke up to a phone call from my older brother. He said my mom was in emergency surgery and that I needed to come be with her. The doctors didn’t think she would make it through the night.

 

Words cannot begin to express the relief and gratitude I feel at being able to say that mom did make it through the night. Within a week of her initial surgery mom is up and walking around. She’s allowed to eat and drink, something we were told she would never be able to do again. While this is fantastic news the reality of the situation is that my mom will need home care once she’s allowed to leave the hospital.

 

I need your help.

 

Mom wants me to be her caretaker, but I cannot afford the cost of moving on my own. I have set the GoFundMe goal at $5,000 but I am hoping to raise as much as possible. Whatever isn’t used for the moving expense will be used to help with mom’s medical bills.

 

Please, help me help my mom.

 

Please donate, even if it’s an incredibly small amount, or reblog to help this gain exposure. Your compassion and kindness will always be remembered by my family.

 

mom1

 

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