And with my one last gasping breath
I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt
Funny how this lyric still sums up my life, so many years later.
I guess I haven't blogged since 2010 or so. Not surprising, I can't commit to anything. But today I really, really, really needed to vent or really just brain dump and I came to the sad realization that I have not a single person I can talk to. I thought I had Gracie but she's got her own shit going on (did I mention that I feel awful that I can't be there for her now, even though she only recently mentioned it to me). There's this one thought I come back to, and have so many other times in my life. There is not a single person in this world that I come first to. I think the best I can think of is my mom. And I'm pretty sure I'm third on her most important list, at the very most. Think about that. You have no friends when you aren't even sure you'd rank in the top ten for any of them. There's no one there for you. No one to turn to. They all got married and had kids and left you behind. And then there's my mom. This Christmas I finally realized that I will NEVER have the relationship I wish for with my mom. And I'll never have a meaningful, or deep relationship with my sister. These things were finally clear to me. And I have to accept them. But it's a hard pill to swallow.
This Christmas started out great - right before my PTO a huge proposal dropped at work and they immediately asked us what days we could be flexible on (meaning I wouldn't get my MUCH needed stretch of time off, potentially). Then Christmas Eve comes. I'm so stupid but I get so excited every time I go home to my parents but the truth is... it's not really home. Within the first 15 minutes I'm there my dad, like an idiot, brings out one treat to give to the little neighbor dog, nevermind the other six dogs on his side of the fence. As you can likely guess, a scuffle broke out and I knowingly put myself in the middle of a dog fight and got the shit bit out of my wrist. It was awful, Gizmo looked at me so scared and apologetically but I wasn't mad at him. It was a dumbass move by my dad. And Pixel is an asshole and they're both bossy pants and yeah. So then things are relatively fine for a few hours, surprisingly my mom wasn't overdramatic scared of Gizmo or making sarcastic comments about him being vicious, she actually really liked him. Then we had burgers on the grill for dinner and dropped presents off to my Mimi (she was really happy to see me and loved her gift), strategically timed so we only ended up spending 12 minutes there. I'm now feeling conflicted about that. But I'll explain why in a bit. Then, my mom tells me to go outside with her (I honestly can't remember why I went out in the cold with her) and she tells me my sister was raped and that she can't tell my dad or he'll kill the guy and go to prison and she beat the shit out of his face, banging it into his steering wheel when she runs into him at the gas station across from her house. She brags about it being black and blue the next day. She says she saw a text message confirming it happened (it was an apology, they were both drunk, etc.) and she doesn't want to press charges. I say I understand that, because they'll question her (and she's been drinking heavily lately) and it's a small town, etc. And then my mom says she doesn't know what to do to help her and I say she's got to talk to someone. She has to convince her to go. She can't not go. I don't cry, I don't really freak out. I'm pretty sure that was at least half the fault of the (much needed) mood stabilizer I recently started taking (gradually, because it can cause seizures) and half because of selfish reasons. Selfish reasons! What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm so overcaring in some ways and so fucking selfish at times. My sister had eluded to something happening (and i had a weird, bad feeling) via text but then referred me to my mother (I don't know if Mom's told you I've had a lot of shit going on...) So I think a.) she can't tell me that. she didn't. Something in me clicks. I've accepted I will never be really close to my sister. and b.) my Mom would never be there for me like this. Well, kinda. I don't want to not give her credit for surviving my deepest, darkest depression in college, not wonderfully, but I think she tried. But nowadays she's not comforting at all, she used to have a little comfort in her. And c.) Neither one of them have a clue how depressed I am again. How full of rage and anger I am. How embarrassed of my behavior and reactions I am. How I think about how easy it would be to dead than to be me. How hard it is for me to function and fake it on a daily basis. What a hot mess I am. I could go on, but I won't. You get the idea. And then there's d.) my mom just dropped a TON of emotional baggage and shit on my already fucked up, heavy shoulders. WTF IS WRONG WITH ME? Why did those things come to mind? Like everything in my life, I'm just barely skimming the emotional waters on all of the above mentioned crap... I'm not entirely processing it and I kind of have to put it away for a later date for now. I just don't think I could survive a deep dive into that right now. I'm so fucked up.
And now to get back to why I feel conflicted about planning such a short visit with Mimi. My Grandma has been in the hospital, originally from the nursing home she had to have surgery for a bed sore, but then, on Christmas, my shitty aunt texts my dad that sorry, but she just found out that there is a meeting the following day at 10 AM to discuss hospice. Apparently she isn't eating? I don't know all the details but they've apparently moved her to a hospice situation, they've stopped her antibiotics and some of her care and have started to administer pain medications. I got up early this morning to go see her with my mom and dad. My dad is being really, really strong right now when I know he's really hurting. My mom is finding every reason to bitch at him and when I ask her to cut it out, he's grieving, she says yeah, I know, he's taking it out on me (to be clear, verbally, snide remarks, short fuse, nothing physical). I wish she would take one for the team and love him through this in a better way, but I know she's frustrated with his family and the whole situation. Anyways, I've been pretty unemotional about this, I was sad, but it sounded like she was suffering and one of the first things I said was "I wish we could euthanize humans" which sounds horrible but is so compassionate. But then we go to visit her. And for like the first ten minutes she doesn't speak. At all. She just nods her head. The tears start coming. Dammit. My nose is a faucet without tears, ugh. Then my mom makes a big deal about asking if she should ask them for her breakfast. And my dad, with tears in his eyes, says something about it's part of the program not to offer her breakfast (or something like that). And then he asks her if she wants a cookie. And she nods, but her face lights up a bit. If you knew my grandma the whole not speaking thing would blow your mind (she usually wouldn't shut up, lol) but the lighting up for a cookie (she's a diabetic) is SO her. And then she spoke. I don't remember what she said first. But a few times she told me she loved me and that I was a good/great/I fucking can't remember girl. She was proud of me. And she kissed me on the cheek. And she smiled when I showed her the dogs Christmas picture. She wasn't at all what I was expecting but I was pleasantly surprised. Of course, I hate that I didn't visit enough. I could've visited every week and felt this way. I mean it had been a long time but that doesn't make my lifetime love of my grandma any less. It's hard to get over to see her but I can't change that. So I tried to be there as much as I could today. I gave her ice water, helped her drink from the straw. I remember she said "funny you're here feeding me now". And I told her it was no problem, my pleasure. I owed her. I told her about ten times I had cookies for breakfast, like her, because why not? She stared at me a lot. I don't know how there she is. She seems like her slight dementia self from the last time I visited her (which, by the way, I can't really remember when that was. Yeah, I already know how much I suck) but she happily ate two cookies and two glasses of water for breakfast and talked to all of us, repeating herself with her famous lines like "you can do it" and well, fuck, I can't remember the other one she was saying. Not "oh, linta" but another one. I hate my memory. this was honestly about 12 hours ago. Not even. Anyways, I did my very best to suck up the tears. I don't know if she knows she's considered hospice. I apologized for always having been a cryer. We made fun of my dad and she uttered a single "ha" laugh when we showed her the picture of my dad in his ugly Christmas sweater that Jese bought him and my mom's cheesy snowman hat. Then my mom walks in the room after being in the hallway for something and snidely whispers "your sisters coming". My aunt walks in. My aunt that I was so close to and spent so much time with when I was a kid. I could write a novel about all the reasons why I consider her shitty now, but let's just say the list is long. However, everyone has been civil for my Grandma. So I whole heartedly say hello and smile and nod at her stories. She knows everything about the hospital because she works there, ya know. She finds a way to make a mention of my fake nails snide and snotty - you know you were the only one I ever knew who kept up with those things. They're a lot of work. I let her know it's been at least 10years since I wore them but I found a nail lady a street over so I've been indulging for about a month now. My aunt then goes and sits by my mom and tries to have a conversation with her. She should know by now that won't happen. My mom can shut down a conversation in an instant. Grandma's still holding my hand and I'm still giving her sips of water and my dad finally realizes where my aunt has chosen to sit down and says we're going to get going soon. I tell my Grandma I will stop on the way to or from Kzoo tomorrow. But I want to sob because I really don't know if she'll be alive tomorrow. I think she probably will be, she's not as frail as I thought she'd be (she's frail but not quite as bad as I expected) and I just haven't really been given the details. We tell eachother we love you and I give her a kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of the hand. I walked out really, really sad but slightly relieved that I felt something. The way I had reacted to the news made me worry I wouldn't let myself process any feelings. And grief is just too big to swallow, you have to at least scrape the surface of it, and I know that. I wanted to ask my dad questions about "the program" but he was using every ounce of himself not to burst into tears. And then we get to the doors, where my mom will wait for him to pick her up (because she bitched all the way into the hospital that it was a long, hard walk for her) and I keep walking with my dad. He's over the hump of bursting into tears and says "you know, she can't walk the parking lot here but she never complained once while we walked all over the casino... yeah, btw, we went as a family to the casino on Christmas. Surprisingly, I'm conflicted about that, too. I kinda miss traditions and I kinda like doing something). We get to our cars. I ask my dad about my tires. And tell him I'm going to run some errands when I leave. Then I head out to shop for a bit.
Now, in full circle, Gracie has asked me not to come visit and all I can reply is "Sure. I will check into shipping your gifts). I want to say I really need your ear. And I want to hug you and be your ear, too. But I can't. She hasn't shared much and it's obvious I'm no longer a confidant of hers. And I'm not surprised. I have never been a great listener. But it still sucks. And it still hurts. And it still reminds me that I'm a low priority to the few people I still call friends. And that's another tale for another time. Hometown friends. And the casino trip where I ruined Christmas after getting only two hours of sleep because I can't sleep in my parents house because it's strange and weird and not home. But I'm sick of typing. And I do feel at least a little better. I've managed to dump a little bit of the scum weighing on my brain. I should be able to numb out the rest with some beverages and smoking. Night, y'all.
