I haven’t told you what has been going on this year.
I’ve been giving you foam.
Even when I promised I’d try not to.
I hope you will forgive me if its just bullet points. I don’t know how to talk about any of it. Maybe putting it in bullet points will get it out there, out of my head a little.
Part of why I have not said anything is because .. well- part of it you will know why right away. And part of it is because I’m afraid to talk about it in an open and honest way if it means that I might hurt someones feelings, or make someone feel badly for things beyond their control. Part of it is because I don’t want to get into debates.
This year – my mom went into the hospital for the second time with a life threatening infection and we thought we were going to lose her. She had a very dangerous surgery that removed several more (yes, more) feet of her intestine. She came down with dementia caused by the antibiotics they had her on. It was scary and terrifying. She lives across the country from me. I couldn’t be there this time.
Now she is still fighting infections caused by a mesh that was put into her abdominal wall a few surgeries ago, her body is rejecting it. They are afraid to do surgery on her again, she was not supposed to make it through the last two and had a less than 1% chance of survival. Her only option without doing another one, is to have open wounds for the rest of her life, and no precautions she takes will prevent another infection if her body decides to get infected.
– I lived with a person for several years. They were like a brother to me, and to my husband. Not one part of our lives was not sort of entrenched with this other person in some way.
This summer, they turned themselves in and went to jail – where he’s been ever since.
For being a pedophile.
No one had any idea. None of us knew this was a thing. There were no signs, no hints.
He told one of us himself, before it came out elsewhere. We may have never believed it otherwise.
We don’t mention his name now. Not really. I try not to even think about it, if we are honest. But it comes into my head uninvited anyway.
My friend told me to treat it like a death. But I can’t.
When a friend you have turned into family dies, there is something that happens to your memory of them. It is usually elevated. .. I just.. cant.
This weekend my husbands godson made a terrible mistake, and accidentally shot and killed his best friend. It was a huge mistake. It was a tragic accident. The entire thing is terrible beyond words.
Our other ex-roommate has a mass. She’s going in for chemo. She is around my age with two beautiful little girls that she has raised on her own. I hear the prognosis is good, that the doctors believe they can get it. I know she will fight with every ounce of strength she has, because she was an orphan by the time she was 14 years old.
But I don’t talk about any of this.
I don’t know how. Instead I talk about birthdays that didn’t go the way I thought they should, how inconvenient broken toes are.
I leave drafts in here about temper tantrums and social awkwardness.
I take one step after the other and one day at a time.
I want to feel better. I don’t want to bottle all of this up or deal with it incorrectly. I’m not really sure if I’m doing it right, or what to say about any of it.
I think this is why I am so tired and unable to focus. I’m pretty sure it is why my hair has gone from 10% to 40% gray this year.
It struck me – the last two days…. how here all this terrible news is hitting me from all sides, and I was just going along with extra work being asked of me, like nothing happened. Just shove all that stuff into a box and pretend it doesn’t really exist.
This really bothers me, because… it shouldn’t always be like that. Horrible things happen and I just.. go to work, and make dinner, and do anything I normally would. But I don’t call my friends and talk to them. Not really. I don’t call and ask anyone if they want to go have coffee, or dinner or something. Granted – there is no money for it, and I’m not going to invite you out and make you pay for me. I guess that’s why. I don’t want to intrude on anyone elses life, really. Something in my head makes it seem like you can’t just go out and sit and chat somewhere without spending money doing it.
I would say its because I’m in New england and its COLD but honestly this has been going on all year. I’d be lying.
I think it comes down to just not wanting to ask anyone for help, even when its really valid, and you think you might NEED some sort of something to alleviate some of the pressure.
I cant even seem to throw myself into my artwork, I try and it just feels like a balloon with all the air let out of it, making that NOISE balloons make. This long and mean disembodied raspberry. Want to draw? Cant. Paint? Nope. Some 3D modelling? Psh. I am tapped. And I have a deadline. A big one.
None of the usual methods are helping.