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Mucking Along

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  • Mucking Along

    I'm really sick today. I've only eaten cheerios and saltines, and it wasn't cool that I was forced to go to the laundromat this morning because our apartment's washing unit is still being crappy. I want to have pepsi. When I was sick as a kid, mom would stir pepsi until the fizz was gone. I really don't know the logic behind giving soda (bizzed or unbizzed) to a sick person. But that's what she did and that's what I keep thinking about today.

    I desperately want to move to a nice place. Where the walls and ceilings aren't (absolutely literally) rotting around me and the windows close and I'll have heat in the winter and the highway isn't right outside blasting in my ear drowning out any normal conversational voices. I've really come to hate this place. And to hate myself for not being able to afford anything better. Or anything at all, since Tom has been paying the $425/mo rent since July when I became too busy with certification and classes to have a job.

    I also think about Grammy a lot. It's been just over a year since her death. Every time I think about her, I also think "I should call Grammy and let her know I was thinking about her!" And immediately realize I can't. No more phone calls or letters or cards, all of which I loved both sending and receiving. So then I start thinking about where she is now. If there's a heaven, I'm sure she's there. But I don't think there is. I wonder if there's really such a thing as reincarnation, a place for souls to hang out between lives. I used to believe in this. It's a beautiful idea. I can't envision it anymore. And I want to. When I think about after-life, I now see a void. Tom is so un-spiritual it's sad. And I'm becoming more and more that way too. I don't want to do the little rituals around him or talk with him about spirits, spirituality, or the soul. I have initiated these conversations before. It's depressing. And then he unintentionally make me feel like a wacko for believing such things. Maybe I should start going to that Unitarian Universalist church again. I liked it when I tried it out three years ago. And my parents acted like it was a sure ticket to hell. I never dared and probably never will dare to tell them that I am not a Christian and haven't believed in their religion in at least 7 years.

    I miss my family. Having a family and feeling loved and thought-of. I do hate carrie and cannot forgive her for her ongoing selfishness and the pain that she deliberately causes to those around her. I do not hate mom, but she makes me incredibly sad. I cannot yet forgive her for the things she's done to the rest of the family, hurting us, backstabbing us to enable a sick and hateful mind. She is not herself. I cry very easily when I think about her. I try to make her life easier and not cause her any more pain, but I pity her and am constantly hurt by her actions and cannot yet completely forgive her. I think I have forgiven my father, but his case is entirely depressing as well. He has and will cater to every one of mom's whims because he is afraid of losing her entirely. She makes ridiculous demands and he delivers. Right now he is slowly wasting away because she and carrie are living in Virginia while he sits in an empty house, waiting for it to sell so they'll have the financial means to complete the move to VA. That house feels empty and dark and sick. He has had it "blessed" by his old Baptist minister. I think it needs more of the same. I know I'm biased because I know what's gone on in there, but I am not imagining the oppressive feel of that house. It is absolutely not where I grew up. It's foreign to me.

    Grandma and Grandpa Clark and Bethany are the family I can count on. I wish they lived closer. We've all been leaning on one another for about three years now, getting through this crap. I also have Tom. I hate myself when I feel dependent. This spring, I went to counseling (the free kind offered by the community college) and that helped me detach myself from the family situation enough to keep me from destructing. Recently, I've been thinking about seeing a hypnotherapist or reiki healer or similar venues to ease at least some of the stress that's heaped on top of me. But now I glimpse "that stuff" through Tom's eyes. And I feel ashamed and become secretive about the whole idea. If I had the money, I might go on with it anyway. Maybe take Bethany out one day and take turns getting hypnotized, even if it was just for fun. Maybe a past life regression. Something we could share later and talk about and remember when things get tough. Who knows.

    But I need to start up some kind of spiritual life again. I've hardly even had the time to think about devoting time to such things. And when Tom poo-poos the idea of anything that even smacks of the spiritual, it kind of puts a damper on things. And I only get about 4 hours of alone-time to myself throughout the entire week. Next week, when I am no longer ill, I will go out to that church. It's a promise to myself. Because I can see that I need something. It feels like there is so much to fill.
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