Word Vomit

I’ve spent the past week cat sitting at one of my friend’s place. The cats are adorable, and one lets me rub its belly.  And the other is mistrustful of me, doesn’t let me touch her, and tries, in general, to not be too close to me.

I feel like the second cat.

Last week I discovered that there were a few people in my life that I held relatively close were, in their own ways, using me, lying to me, or otherwise abusing me in some way. And it hurts. Dear gods did figuring this out hurt.  And it’s left me very unsure of the vast majority of people in my life on who is okay to trust and open with, and who is not. Some are people who are okay with me making massive amounts of effort to be there for them, but when it comes to me needing someone. Something always comes up. Something always prevents them from being there for me even part of the way they expected me to be there for them.

Except for the core group of friends I have. They have made me feel so loved, so cared about, and shown time and time again that I will never be able to not know they will be there. And if I am in a situation where I need help. They’ll do it. Without hesitation, without expectations. I’ve been friends with the majority of them for eleven years now. And this is still new to me. It’s still something I am so unsure and terrified of losing.

And I think it’s because of the people I’ve let in that are like the ones this bit of rambling began with. I don’t know the point of this post. Other than. Some people suck. Some people really suck and I need to learn to stop letting them in. And to stop caring about them. And focus on the fact that I have some of the best people in my life.

And… and that’s it I guess.

Hopefully the next time I sit to write publically, I will be in better spirits.

February Blues

When I started writing this entry, I was sitting at Tortilla Joe’s restaurant in the Downtown Disney District, taking myself on a much needed me date. This year is going by so fast. It’s kind of unbelievable. A lot has happened. To start, I have a temporary job. I am a data entry technician working from an office in Gardena, which is nowhere near where I live and entirely too close to Disneyland. Which is why I wound up stopping there to avoid some of the traffic nightmares on my way home.  I’m still going on interviews for other positions. I have one tomorrow, in fact. This year feels like a good year for getting interviews compared to previous years. In fact, I’ve already gone on more interviews in the past month and a half than I did the first half of last year. With any luck, one of these will stick to a job that will last longer than one month.

But I’m not going sit and spew that all has been nothing but hope and searching and trying to get employment. I’ve felt so lost this year. I am trying to find the path that my life is supposed to go on, but I can’t remember when or where I got off the path. I know it’s happened, the current state of my life is a huge indicator that Hey! Somewhere where you got off track. I’ve been taking these huge and tiny steps towards getting to a place where I think that I will be better. Where I won’t feel my anxiety creep up my spine and choke me.  Operation Secret project is a huge portion of that. It is, without any hesitation or doubt, the biggest thing that can be done to get myself aimed at a better place.

I took one of the hardest steps towards that operation. I told my dad about it. He wasn’t exactly what could be called supportive. He told my mother, who in turn responded in a manner that was beyond unsupportive. Which, is confusing. The thing I’m trying to make sure happens. It’s something that should happen. It’s something that should have happened a long time ago. I don’t understand why my parents seem to be trying to sabotage or bribe me to prevent this from happening. But it’s going to. Sometime soon (next month hopefully) I’ll be able to talk about it more. With better news.

Laller is getting progressively worse. Most days, she won’t really get out of her bed unless I carry her out and set her in the living room to socialize. I worry that the doctors and nurses were wrong when they said that she should have another five years in her. I don’t see how anymore. It’s terrifying and heartbreaking seeing how much she has regressed. I can’t take care of her anymore. I can’t handle the pressure or the responsibility and still manage to take care of myself. I’ve tried to do so, but it gets harder and harder to care for a woman who goes dead weight when I try to pick her up to feed her, or punches me repeatedly when I have to give her a shower, or bites when I need to move her to change the sheets that she’s soiled again. I found a home that could take her and do so much better for her than I am able to provide, but there is resistance from others to putting her in it. Which, I understand too. Laller was very vocal about not wanting to be in a living assistance home. But no one saw how badly the Alzheimer’s would affect her coming. We didn’t predict that within the span of a year, she’d go from someone who could take care of herself (feeding, bathing, cleaning, using the toilet) to someone who on some days just refuses to leave bed for any reason. It’s heartbreaking.

School starts next week. I have a few courses and a couple that is not in my normal major. But something that will hopefully help me get a job in the business field while I continue pursuing the education field goal. I know I what I want to do in life, I just also know that I can’t afford to sit and keep trying and only doing that one thing. I need to do more.

There things to look forward to. I have the Bash this weekend, my friends are wonderful, Opereation Secret Project is still going, despite opposition. And there will be more lovely rain soon. Gosh, that rain was needed.

There are things I have to keep holding on to hope for. There are reasons for me to be happy. I just need to keep reminding myself of that.

Aches

I have had a headache for five days now.

It lives behind my right temple. Throbbing and stabbing. I keep taking Aleve for it, which offers temporary relief, but it also seems to anger my headache. I drink a lot of water, and I’ve splurged on food for the week to make sure it was not just another hunger ache.

This isn’t the longest headache I’ve had. It’s not even the worst. There was a three month period where I had a daily migraine. Strangely enough for me, the daily migraines pushed me to be more successful. They happened during the highest levels of stress and units at Pasadena City College. The pain and nauseating sensations fluttering in my stomach were the sources of this constant mantra “I can survive this, I can do anything.”

This headache. This wonderful, so far five days of dull pain and annoyance comes at me when I feel like I am trapped. At a point when my depression feels like it is weighing more, and more, and more every minute of every hour of every day. I’ve been more of a marionette doll, being pushed and pulled through the motions of living than actually doing anything myself. The mantra in my head? It’s nothing quite so uplifting as the one from before.

I don’t know what caused this flare up. I know right now, my head is aching and I want to sleep. But I have to pack up. I have to cook dinner. I have homework to do.

I have to find whatever will snap me out of being pulled by invisible strings, and be the one pulling the strings.

Laller is getting a lot worse. She is more a child now than she is an adult – though there are flashes of who she was before. Like this morning, when she asked me to bring her home bourbon. I don’t know why she wants bourbon. Just that it’s going to lead to an interesting conversation with my father later tonight.

Hopefully, the next time I sit down to make an entry, I feel better. Simply sitting and typing has done some to help.

Hopefully.