Blah blah blah
Hm. I dunno. It’s been a little over two months. Eleven weeks? Yeah. That’s usually how long the quarters are.
I kind of feel like I should at least try to make like I care, even if it’s just to prove to myself that I’m not a monster? Or so that I won’t be lying if/when my family asks me if I ever took a moment to reflect.
So I’m doing it now, albeit a week past the two months mark.
Although this is more like a rambling of thoughts than a real reflection.
I don’t really want to do this.
But I feel like I should.
It really sucks having these conflicting thoughts in your head. For years I’ve been distant. It still doesn’t feel like she’s gone. Maybe it’s because I’ve never let it hit me over the head, given that I had school and my dad’s bullshit to put up with and just a bunch of other things. Or maybe because I’m scared to find out my reaction were I to let it, to find out that I’ll only unravel more than I ever thought was possible.
I don’t like the thought of that.
I still abhor crying, although less for feeling weak now and more because I can cry myself sick. Though now that school’s over and I have little to few stressors, I should be fine, right?
I have dreams where I’m crying. I don’t let myself have those moments, especially when I’m in the presence of other people. I can’t let them see me weak. I can’t give them reason to worry about me, because they’ll only bother me. They never tried to talk to me before this, to get to know me and to show care and familial responsibility towards me until around November, when shit first hit the fan. So why should I let myself open up to these people that are practically strangers? I didn’t even find out about one of my [ex-step-]aunt’s until November, and even then I thought it was an aunt on my dad’s side of the family.
So I don’t try to reach out to them.
Not even to my brothers. They can’t do anything to help me anyways. One’s four hours away, in good traffic, in Las Vegas.
The other is hard to get a hold of and is often prone to depression. He doesn’t need to worry about his kid sister in addition to his life situation, which was being uprooted a month ago. I don’t even know if he and his ex-wife have found places. Or who’s getting Jaeden. He has some other life issues aside from that of family, and he doesn’t need a reason to worry about his kid sister.
Don’t get me wrong. I do care about my brothers. But they’ve been out of the house for too many years of my life, so while I often feel this bond of siblinghood, I don’t remember or think of it when they aren’t around. My oldest was out of the house by the time I was six? Maybe younger. And I seem to have shut out a lot of my memories from before then; I can’t call them up as easily. i don’t know if I unconsciously did this to make the transition of losing the only house I grew up in easier or not. I don’t really want to know.
Sometimes it hits me when I’m alone, when I’m not able to distract myself with schoolwork or social happenings or Tumblr or RPing or talking with people or a video game or a book. And given that I haven’t had time for the last two this quarter, it may have made it harder.
Sometimes it hits me before I sleep and so I just ignore it. I push it down, I push it back, I push it away, so much so that it just ends up appearing in my dreams.
Having dreams about the house and family…
It should feel weird, but it never does.
A few days ago, Saturday it was, I spent the entire day catching up on my sleep. No lie. That was the most recent time that I recall having a dream where I just cried and cried. It didn’t help that I had yet to work on two very important essays and just felt swamped with the workload that I had let developed. I hadn’t slept well the two weeks before that either, spending every third day or so at the college to pull an all-nighter and working off of four hours of sleep. I also overate, and had trouble going to sleep that morning, having arrived at my room at 2:30am and not being able to sleep until after a very acidic vomiting because my stomach was in too much pain and refusing to digest at around 5:30 am.
I needed the sleep. I was depressed. It was just one of those days where getting up had no merit, nothing worth the effort. I was asleep from then until 2pm, and just started the cycle of going in and out of sleep until 7pm. It was also procrastination and I knew it, but I just did not want to be conscious.
And in one of those after 2pm dreams, I was crying. Screaming. Sobbing. Doing what I would have done in the room I’m renting if I was alone and the neighbors wouldn’t be able to hear me. I knew what I was crying about. It was a little jarring when I woke up, and I reflected on it for a bit, immediately knowing why I had it, and just letting that thought hang in my head until I decided to say, “fuck it, at least I’m doing it somewhere.”
But these days of feeling immensely sad… They’re getting to be less. I don’t know if it’s because time’s passed or because I was able to focus on school more with my dad out of the way or my emotional pressing lessened, but it just… faded. The last two weeks have had me concerned with final assignments and papers and projects though, so that might be why. I haven’t had time to sit and be myself. And RPing has helped given me something to think about away from the computer.
This has been an… well not interesting experience, but a rather unusual one? The connotations of neither of those words match what I’m feeling. I haven’t enjoyed it. I don’t enjoy having emotional fits, having to fight back tears over things that have never bothered me before. I don’t like thinking about how every little thing that I’ve picked up and am using was my mom’s. I have many mementos of her that I’m able to use, aside from the mass amount of jewelry that I’ve borrowed and never returned.
She always said that she wanted this chain back for the peace pendant that I adore.
I never did return it.
Maybe because I knew that, in the end, it would be mine. That it would find its way back into my hands within a few years. And I saw no point in doing that. There also was no other chain that was as long, but I think it also was because I this.
I’ve had some dreams with her. Sometimes she has her hair. Most times she’s bald/incredibly short hair, because that’s what I got used to. She’s usually just in there, as a part of the background, something on the side, just a random detail that I may or may not interact with. And it’ll be something mundane. One time it was me needing to go into the kitchen at our house, and I think I was making food, and she was there, and I just talked with her the same as when she was alive and I needed to work around her.
And though I know that in the dream, my focus was on something completely different, I knew that the dream happened only to show me my mom.
There have been a few instances where I think I’ve felt her spirit. At least two times.
One was on Mother’s Day, I think. But it was too soon, and I just didn’t want to embrace or connect with her spirit. I wasn’t mad at her, but I just didn’t want that connection with her— I still don’t. I don’t want to hug her and cry in her arms and tell her I love her and have a mother-daughter bond. I’m not ready to forgive her for her faults and decisions that have affected my life. I can move past them, I can act like they never happened, but I cannot forgive her for the things that have kept me distant from her.
But anyways. I told her spirit to go away. I could have spent an hour just feeling that bond with her that I’m always going to have, no matter how much I don’t wish to improve it, but I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to cry. I had sneaked enough times. I was at school. I was RPing with what few people were on that day. I didn’t want to be with her. I was perfectly fine without. Holidays are always just another day for me. Halloween’s about the only one that isn’t, since I can actually spend the entire day in costume and it’s completely natural.
There was another time after that. I think I may have ended up missing her, just because I was so scared and worked up and everything about where I’m at in life, and half wishing, half loathing, like I did when she was alive, to be a kid again and to feel safe in the arms of someone older than me.
I still don’t really miss her.
It still hasn’t hit me that I’m no longer have a place to set my roots down yet. I don’t like not being able to put my roots back down. I can get rooted very quickly, and I feel safe when I’m rooted. But I haven’t stayed at this new place long enough. I could still very easily be given a 30 day notice because my clean house habits are so drastically below hers— that isn’t to say that they’re slobbish (actually, quite better than my brother’s, from what I’ve seen), or that I’m Pigpen, but we had clouds of dust on things, there were items that I didn’t know we had or what they were for, and stuff that might actually be worth something for its collectible/age value. Or not. But I digress; my living habits may be too much for her, when I’m actually staying there. I have been trying to keep things clean and made and etc, but these are habits that we never did or encouraged everyone to do at home. Cleaning the toilet or tub? I haven’t seen it happen in the last few years.
It hasn’t hit me that she’s gone, but I think I’ve stopped thinking that she’s still at the hospital.
I keep thinking she’s alive.
Where I’m at, it’s stopped feeling like an emergency situation where I have to stay at someone else’s house. It’s still not right, and a few times I catch myself as I open my door getting jarred by the fact that it’s not my room but is my room but the feeling of the room isn’t quite mine. Staying there, it feels akin to when I would stay with my dad and then step family during the summer. I’m used to it, I have some possessions of mine there, but it’s not home. It’s notcomfortable. I’m not approaching it like home— but that might be for the best. If I treated it like home, I wouldn’t be able to do good housekeeping habits.
I dunno. I just felt like I needed to post something. This isn’t everything, but it’s a start, right?