Monday, February 16, 2015

Conversations (Not) Had

           As the semester comes to a start (6 snow days makes this count as a start) and I am back living with people who I used to consider to be my best friends, I am realizing that I am craving something new, something I have never really been able to put a finger on before. I am craving interaction with someone other than my family and my amazing, wonderful, and patient boyfriend, C. Before I explain, I talk to people all the time, like a lot. I tend to fill silence with words and jokes and I spend most of my time talking laughing on my behalf or just spewing words out hoping someone will catch the bait and start speaking words out loud. I have amazing conversations with C, and with my family, and I have even found that I like to talk to C’s friends, but when it comes to my friends, the friends that I chose to have in the beginning of my college career, words rarely get said that actually mean anything. We bitch, whine, and complain, and when we aren’t doing that, we talk about school, but other than that, there is no actual conversations to be had.
            My first semester of senior year, I had a hard time with handling being a full time (unpaid) teacher and a full time student, and often came back to my room feeling frustrated or like I was going to have a mental breakdown. My roommate started asking me about my day, and when I answered without the standard “fine” for a few days, she promptly told me that I am too negative and needed to either not tell her anything or say something positive. My suite-mates never asked, so my feelings of hurt, anger, frustration all went towards C, which made everything for us hard. Now, C and I have been together for 7 years, so my constant negativity was nothing compared to some of the things we have been through, but I believed I had nothing positive in my life (although I realize now that there were so many positives in the negative, like starting to plan the next phase of my life after graduation). I could not see through the thick fog that had taken over my life and focus on something good, and adding my roommates not giving two shits about my life just made me a very unbearable person. This was a few months ago, and I now realize how silly I was, but that does not change the fact that I was, and still am, hurt by the actions of the people around me.
            Now I am not saying that I am perfect and my friends are the ones to blame here, because I am not perfect, but I pride myself on always asking how other people are and helping to solve their problems. If I know something exciting is going on in someone’s life, I ask! If something not so great is happening, I offer my support. I am a talker, my family is a group of talkers with opinions and loud voices, mine being one of the loudest ones (shout out to my childhood BFF for turning me from quiet to obnoxiously loud, love ya), so being in a place with friends who do not talk at all ever (unless it is to complain or is about school) makes me want to go back to my freshman year self and say FIND OTHER FRIENDS. Don’t get me wrong. I love my friends, but I also love myself and my sanity, and is it so bad that I want to be able to talk to them about my life without being told to stop?

            Fast-forward to now. I am currently apartment shopping with C (one of the after-graduation exciting occurrences I mentioned), and I am both excited and nervous (he’s kind of a slob, but I can fix that, right?). I am moving in with a man I have been with since I was 14 years old. We are starting the next phase of our life together, and things could not be any better with us. My friends all know this; I had mentioned it to them in one of my *there is nothing being said here so I am just going to spew out words and see how it goes* sessions. Now, if it were one of my friends in this situation, I would be asking questions, sharing my excitement, talking. But, that is not the case, which is fine, but this situation applies to everything. My family is currently going through, and has been for a while, some pretty hard stuff that has been affecting me in such a negative way. Once again, trying desperately to find someone to share my feelings with other than C, I mentioned it to my friends and got nothing. Barely a nod. I just want to scream every time. Don’t they see, I just need someone to HEAR ME, to UNDERSTAND how I am feeling, to HOLD MY HAND while I cry for five minutes and then move on. I need a friend, or friends, like me. I need someone who likes to talk, who likes to listen, who genuinely cares. I am not saying my friends don’t care, but sometimes I feel that way. I want to be able to walk into my suite and feel comfortable sharing something so shitty, because getting things off my chest is my way of dealing with things. And yes, I have C, and I have my sister, my parents, my dogs, and D, but I am not with them all the time, and they have been putting up with me for a lifetime (minus C and the dogs, though C is pretty close to being there). Also, they are not always there. I need people other than C to talk to, to have a conversation with. Graduation is in less than four months. I am so ready I could cry. 

Thursday, February 5, 2015

Crying

My mom lost her job today.
And I found myself crying.
Wishing for this nightmare to end.
It has been a long time since things have been normal. My family dynamic drastically changed after both my sister and I went off to college, her a year after me, and my mom lost a job that she had had for over 30 years. Thrown to the curb like her 30+ years did not matter. This happens. It is a reality of life today. This, however, triggered something in my mom, in my family, and changed us. We went from being happy but slightly dysfunctional, to not so happy and really dysfunctional all because something was happening to our mom, the person who ran, and still runs, our house and our lives. Something changed in her that changed the dynamic of our lives, and up until very recently, we did not know what was really going on with her. She stopped watering the plants (she has the greenest thumb of anyone I have ever met) and let them all die, she stopped doing yoga and pilates (she has always done at least one of the two since I can remember), and she stopped walking the dogs (she used to walk them a hundred times a day if she could). She stopped cooking, cleaning, and seeing her friends. Worst of all, she stopped talking. Gone were the days of my mother never shutting up; now, the days with her are filled with silence. Recently, she even stopped listening, so telling her anything was as pointless as trying to get her to say something.
All I could think was, “What is wrong here? This is not my mother. This is a stranger living in her body.” I have longed for someone to bring my mom back to me and my family for years now.
Fast forward to today. I thought I had another day until I heard the words “I lost my job again,” and I thought I was prepared, but the crying mother I heard on the other side of the phone was something I could have never prepared myself for. I ensured her that it is just a job, which I have done the past two times I have gotten this call, but what stood out to me was her thanking me. A few weeks ago, I went to a doctor’s appointment with her, where she finally admitted something was wrong. Depression and anxiety. Which we all knew inside our hearts for years, but could not for the best of us get her to see it. She is on meds now, and it took an effort of my dad and I to make this happen, but today starts the first day of recovery for her and for our family.
Her struggles and sadness rip me apart inside.
Although I know I have helped her, I wish I could do more. All I can do is be her daughter.

So mom, you’re welcome. I will do anything I can to help you on your road to recovery. I am here for you, and I will never, ever blame your behavior on you being psycho again. I promise. I love you. Why do bad things have to happen to good people?

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

How Can I Afford Coffee?

So here’s the thing about blogs. I have always loved writing (okay, not always, but I have grown to like love it on my own terms), and I have always loved reading (this one’s true). I have so many blogs bookmarked on my computer I do not have room for them. I also have a lot of feelings. I have tried keeping a diary or journal quite a few times, and it has never stuck, probably because I hate writing on paper. Like many other generation Y’ers, technology rules all, and man do I love my technology (Apple, specifically; this girl loves her iPhone, iPad, and Macbook Pro). At the moment, I am a college student, so my brain moves at a million miles a minute, and writing using a pen and paper is just not fast enough for me. Also, my thoughts are almost always scrambled and when said out loud sound like a horrifying case of word vomit meets morphing two words into one. My life is currently hilarious. Just kidding.

So back to blogs. I’m not good at stuff like this. But I write a lot, mostly for school, and putting my words/thoughts/feelings on (electronic) paper makes me feel better, so here I am. Blogging. I would say I never saw this day coming, but the day I started crocheting for fun with my cousin I had a feeling this day would come. Also, my life as I know it is about to end in May (college graduation, crap) and I have no idea what I am going to be doing in this new life ahead of me. Sound familiar? So this is it. This is my new journey as I start to figure out how to navigate adulthood as a 20-something living in a city that is way too expensive for a teaching salary. How am I supposed to afford my coffee if when I am broke?