I haven’t touched my camera in months. Well, I took pictures during my last visit home, but I don’t consider that utilizing it as I had intended. I had all these hopes and dreams that, once I acquired it, everything would just fall into place. It didn’t. I forgot that cameras are not only expensive by themselves, but for true flexibility, they require lenses. You can’t do everything in photoshop. Well, okay, you can, but it isn’t as fun/good/etc. I love editing photos, don’t get me wrong, but there’s just something real and raw about an unedited photo that is perfect on its own.

As with everything I do, I got frustrated. Frustration and me go hand in hand. I’m always getting frustrated and I’m never, ever satisfied. All my hobbies end in frustration, even the things I enjoy like gaming? Oh yeah, frustration. I’m frustrated that I’m not good enough, I don’t have enough money to do this, or I don’t have the mindset for that. It’s annoying. I’m frustrated right now just thinking about it.

The worst part of it all is, I know exactly what I need to do. I have to buckle down and make do with what I have and, more importantly, be patient. I was never very good at patience.

I’m running into the same issue as we look at houses. It all just makes me frustrated. The houses we like are out of our budget and the ones in our budget are, honestly, quite terrible…. and our budget isn’t even that bad! We haven’t officially gone to a bank or anything yet, but my father-in-law is a financial guy and we both estimated around $180,000 for us. Here, in the capital of our state, that don’t mean shit. Especially when we only really want to spend $130-150k.

In an ideal world where land is readily available not in the middle of nowhere, we’d purchase an acre and put a house on it. We’ve looked into it, but the only pieces of land available are super small, super expensive, or super horrible sheer cliffs. Woo!

Patience is key here. It isn’t an instantaneous process like I want it to be. The stars and planets are not going to just magically align and lead us to our perfect dream house where everything falls neatly into place. This is an unrealistic expectation–I know this, but I don’t care. I still want it to happen anyway.

As I ease into getting used to this new work schedule (I know it’s been four months, but it takes me a long while to adjust to something outside of my comfort zone), I’m hoping I can find a place again for my hobbies that have gathered dust… like photography. I don’t expect I’ll ever be famous or well-paid for it, but that’s never why I did it in the first place. Much like writing, it’s simply a means of expression and a way to exercise my crazy brain.

I need to force myself to do one of those ‘pictures a day’… but honestly, we don’t really do anything noteworthy on a daily basis. We work, we come home, we sleep, we work. That’s kind of it. Which is why I get frustrated when I try those things, sigh!


I hate when I’ve gone so long without updating this.  This is my personal chronicle.  My way of keeping my head straight and my memories intact.  I have a glorious memory, one that is almost photographic… but my fractured and damaged psyche makes it difficult to recall them.  Sometimes things get locked away that have no business disappearing from my conscious mind.  It happens and I hate it.

When I don’t write, it’s usually because my mind is in more chaos than usual.  I hate it.  My eyes hurt and my body feels worn, though I’ve hardly done anything at all.  I want to write about Nikita and how my mother had to put her down on Friday.  How she called me just as I was preparing for work and how when I heard the words… I felt numb.  Well and truly numb.  I’ve never… I haven’t experienced anything like that and recalling it makes me feel sick somehow.  I don’t know why.  I broke down a minute later, crying so hard that all that came out were muffled squeaks as I attempted to breathe through it.  I’m strong, though.  I had my cry and then I remembered her and everything she had done for me.

People don’t respect animals, they don’t respect their pets.  They mistreat them and ignore them when they live and then mourn them ineffectually when they’ve gone.  I’ve lost many animals, many furry friends, and I’ll continue to do so.  I know that I will outlive them, but the things they give me, the lessons they teach me, those are forever.  Nikita was part of my saving grace as a fool-hardy youth and I will never forget how she calmed and loved me when I felt like no one did.  She was a wonderful cat and while I miss her, I do not begrudge her death.  It is a reminder that I need to appreciate and cherish people and pets while they are here instead of always thinking I’ll have more time.

My mother-in-law, who believes in the supernatural, told me she would haunt like their cats did.  I told her no, she would not.  She lived a happy life and she was loved.  I would not hold on to her like they hold on to theirs.  It’s just the way I am.  I’ll talk about her and remember her and maybe sometimes I’ll cry, but I’ll never hold on to her like she’s still here.  She’s not.  I’ve dealt with death since an early age and I’ve always had this strange… I don’t know how to say it, but I accept it.  It is what it is.  It hurts, and it rips at you… but it is inevitable.  Ignoring or wishing away the inevitable is folly.  In my life, nothing has ever really left me until I’m ready for it to.  I may not realize that I’m ready, but when I look back later, I realize that I was.  It’s symbolic, in a way.

I want to talk more about her, but I can’t.  My brain can’t focus on anything.  It’s fuzzy.  I’ve been absorbing books like one breathes air because it’s easier than thinking.  Sometimes, I wish someone had better prepared my husband.  Sometimes, I wish I had never married him at all.  I’m not supposed to be married, I’m supposed to be on my own, doing my own thing, not held down by an archaic tradition that forces me to take on both my own issues and his, as well.

It’s a selfish thing to say, but my brain… it hurts.  I am tired.  I’m always tired, but I’m mentally exhausted.  I feel like all the things I’ve loved have been ripped away or stolen from me in some way or another.  This isn’t a justified accusation to make–anything that’s been done has been allowed by me.  Still, in these hours where I feel so beaten down I can barely continue, I feel angry and I think these things.  I need to find something to channel all this chaos in my head before I make a mess.  I can’t handle everything.  I’m strong, but I’m not that strong.  Still, it’s the role I take, the one I fit into so easily.  No one has to worry, because I’ll take care of it.  I hate it.  Why can’t anyone else do it?  Why am I always shouldering the burden?

Maybe I want some time to be angry.  Maybe I deserve the right to be angry.  I don’t even know anymore.  I am losing pieces of myself to the big, thick mask I’ve begun to assemble.  It’s a dangerous practice.  I can’t disconnect or I’ll have problems… again.  I’m always remote, I’m always just barely out of reach, but now?  The gap is getting wider and I’m losing my ability to discern real from fake.  I’m getting lost along the way again.

The husband is zero help at all.  He has about as much introspection as a dim cave.  He’s smart… brilliant, even, but stupid.  So very, very stupid and simple.  Sometimes, I feel like I married a text book.  I defend him, but sometimes, I wonder if what I’m defending even exists.

Blegh.  I’ll write more when my thoughts are sorted.  I’m going to look back on this and shake my head.  That’s the point.  To chart my progress, to face my downfalls and my happy moments.  To dissect everything and learn how to continue… God knows I don’t operate like normal people.  I wish I did.  I hate this.  I don’t like teetering the crazy line.

Slowly, but Surely

Things are mostly back to normal.  I’ve been feeling fine for a week or so now, so that’s definitely an improvement.  I had been sick for almost a month and I lost quite a bit of weight… which I won’t be complaining about any time soon!  I’m happy to be feeling well again, though.  Spending the majority of your days sleeping is not fun.  Even the week after I knew I was well, I kept having to take naps.  It was almost as if my body hadn’t completely recovered yet.  I don’t know what I had, I never went to the doctor, I’m just glad it’s gone!

Now that I’m better, I’m getting ready to head home for a week.  We’re leaving this Saturday.  My husband will, of course, return home on Sunday and then come back the next weekend to get me.  He can’t take the time off work and we have a trip to Key West looming at the end of October that he needs the time off for.  I’ll be switched to seasonal, so hopefully I can get the time off, too.  I’ll make it work… there’s no way I’m missing that trip for my crappy side job.

The husband testified at his first trial today.  We didn’t think he’d be home until around 8pm, so my mother-in-law took me to my lady doctor appointment and I helped her with some ACS stuff.  I really miss following her around and helping out.  I didn’t get paid for it, but it was so much fun.  I’ve been feeling extra lonely lately, so it was nice to be out and about.  I’m a strange person–I’m not social, yet I get weird bouts of loneliness.  I attribute it to being so far away from my family.  I’m so happy I can finally visit!

Money is tight around here, but we’re making it work.  I’m almost afraid to look at our finances for this month.  I know I have to, but I really don’t want to.  I’m also sad because we had some extra money saved back because one of the husband’s coworkers got a rebel kit and got a lens that she didn’t want.  She was going to sell it to us for dirt cheap, but another girl heard her talk about it first and after waffling around about it, decided she wanted it last-minute, sigh.  The lens wasn’t amazing, but I could really use a telephoto lens, no matter how cheap.

I used some of the money we had saved up to get my hair cut.  For girls who enjoy having their hair cut properly, it costs us around 30-40 dollars, not including the tip.  So, I went and had my hair cut for the first time in six months! I now have bangs.  With my hair properly waved out, it looks quite good… but without it, I look like a seventies chick.  I’m not sure how I feel about that, but I definitely like it when it is styled.  At least it makes my round head less… huge looking!

I’m bored, so I’m going to go bother the husband.  We’re still waiting to hear back about the job we applied for.  I look forward to the day where I don’t have to fret over finances… sigh.  It’s typical to have some worry, but my worry is to the point of not sleeping and getting so obsessive I am budgeting everything down to a ridiculous extent.  Worse yet… I have to get my eyes re-examined for a whopping one hundred and thirty-nine dollars!  That’s the cheapest we can get around here and we have no eye insurance, sigh.  I can’t get new contacts (of which I am out of, both eyes) until I have an up-to-date prescription.  That’s so lame…

We’re supposed to be working on upgrading my computer, since it needs it and my husband has gotten a new power supply ($100+), a new hard drive ($70-80), and something else that broke, but I can’t remember.  This wouldn’t be an issue, but shit on his PC keeps breaking and mine is overdo for an upgrade.  His PC is ten times better than mine and I want to play Skyrim, damn it.  My computer has also started taking fits, sigh.  I’m afraid we won’t have enough money to put into the parts it needs before it craps out completely.  It’s done me good for the past four years, though.  Where my husband has had all kinds of issues, mine has ran like a dream… until recently, sigh.

Just Cats

Just Cats


I managed to get home, but it was already too late. I had known my mother was drinking again, but there was this hope inside that it wasn’t that bad… but it was.  She had fallen and broken her nose, her eyes ringed in bruises, her face looking even more foreign to me than it had before.  How can you look at someone you’ve known your entire life, your own mother, and barely recognize them?  Even her eyes… her green eyes, the ones I loved and wished that I had all my life, they’re not green anymore… they’re just… dark.

After that, I was enraged.  Of course, I would find anger the quickest.  How could she have fallen, broken her nose, avoided the ER, and no one knew anything?  I was so mad, but I eventually let it go.  My grandparents are old and they have their own worries.  Besides, this isn’t terribly out of character for them.

The visit itself wasn’t bad.  Maybe when I’m feeling a little less like this, I’ll be able to put it here so I can remember all of it.  Right now, all I need is release.  I have to try, try to put what I feel somewhere so that it’s real and I can feel it.  The pain I feel right now… I can’t put it into words, I can’t speak of it.  It just hurts.

I’ve spent so long being angry.  It’s the only emotion I’ve ever been able to grasp fully.  I’ve known anger since I was little, I’ll probably always have issues with it… but now?  I don’t feel angry at all.  It’s the first time in my life… I don’t feel angry.  I just want to cry.  I want to cry until I can’t possibly cry any longer.  I’m not someone who cries, it makes me uncomfortable.  I’m not vulnerable, I’m not a victim, I’m a rock.  When everyone else falls down, I pick them back up.  Even when I was little, I was doing it without realizing it.  It’s who I’ve shaped myself to be–I’m a rock.  Everyone relies on me to be the one who stands tall in the face of whatever comes my way and to my merit, I’m strong.  I’m damn strong.

Even the strong feel weak at times and right now, I am at my weakest.  I feel like a brittle branch in the face of a storm.  I feel like I’m going to snap if there’s anymore pressure thrown my way.  I hate it.  It’s unfamiliar to me.  I know, that in the end, I’ll manage, I’ll persevere.  It’s what I was made to do–but it doesn’t make it any easier when this happens.

It’s hard when you have no one to turn to.  I’ve done it to myself and I’ll face this problem for the rest of my life, I realize that.  I love my husband, but when it comes to this, he doesn’t understand.  He just sees me as this person who has overcome so much, how can this bother me?  It’s just my mother, she’s just an alcoholic… but this is something I’ve battled with for a long time.  No one understands, no one.  I spent so much time being outwardly angry that it’s all anyone ever saw.  Even my husband doesn’t understand now, he’s painted a picture in his mind and it’s the only one he knows.

No one understands that I had to grow up very early and that despite that, anger is my core emotion.  It’s the one I show readily and easily.  It’s the only one I fully understand within myself.  But, I’m an adult now and anger isn’t acceptable.  Everyone feels angry, that’s fine, but throwing it out and just being blatantly enraged is no longer acceptable.  My vision is clearer now and I see where I’ve messed up.

I know my mother better than anyone and that’s what hurts me the most.  I understand her.  I see the pleas for help.  She’s no longer spitting venom, she’s admitting she’s had a problem, she even went into detox after being rushed to the ER.  She fell down the stairs and nearly killed herself.  But her environment, her mental state… they’re not helping her get better.

It’s my own fault for being so angry and for keeping all my other emotions hidden.  I don’t share them.  Oftentimes, it’s because I can’t.  Words fail me when it comes to my true emotion and I’m left with no ability to communicate.  The only thing I can say is look at the picture above, as it says everything that I cannot…

Unfortunately, all anyone will see are cats… just cats.

All the Little Pieces

It seems like anytime that I try and set some sort of goal for myself, life has to try and scramble everything all up.  I spoke with my grandma last week (I actually need to call her today, too) and she sort of confirmed the suspicions I had about my mother’s drinking.  She’d been clean since her “rehab stint”, which wasn’t really rehab at all, but just a week in a facility.  Her insurance refused to cover any more time there.  So, she came home and she was doing great… but she lives with a guy who drinks pretty routinely.  Alcoholics cannot be around people who drink.

Anyway, fast forward to Memorial Day and I hadn’t heard from my mother.  When she’s sober, she calls me a lot or sends text messages.  When she stops, I know something is up.  I let it go for a little bit before finally asking my grandma about it.  She said that my mother hadn’t been by in nearly a week and she was worried, too.  I love my grandparents, but I don’t understand how they can live next freaking door and be so utterly disconnected from what’s happening.  I think that they just don’t want to deal with it… and they’ve only known about her drinking for a few years.  They should try living with her and knowing about it for almost a decade now.  I’m tired of it, too, but she’s my mother and try as I might, I can’t let it go.  I can’t let her just die.  If I had the money, I’d come up and get her and put her into a rehabilitation facility.  She actually wanted to be there, she didn’t want to leave…

I’m upsetting myself now.  I can’t talk to anyone about this, even my husband doesn’t get it.  He just thinks she’s another useless alcoholic who doesn’t want help.  She does, she finally does and no one is doing anything.  She can’t do it by herself, she’s dug herself into such a deep, empty hole that when she’s sober, it hits her so hard all she wants to do is drink.  I’ll never make excuses for her weakness, but I also can’t turn my back, either.  No matter how many times she’s disappointed me, she’s still my mother and I can’t just sit back and let her die like everyone else seems happy to do.

Apparently, my aunt heard rumors that she was at a bar and told my grandma.  Of course she was, her useless boyfriend probably took her to one and said, “it’s okay, you can just drink soda.”  Ugh.  I can’t even get into it, it makes me so angry.

I haven’t talked to either of my parents for nearly a month now and while it makes me sad… it’s probably for the best.  Talking to them just puts weight on me.  They’re adults, but I still feel like I should be doing something to help them stop making stupid decisions.  I can’t let go.  I love my parents… but sometimes, I wish I didn’t.  Sometimes, I wish I could just say “screw them” and be done with it…

I’m so angry about my mother’s drinking, too.  I was excited to come home and see her sober.  She kept talking about us doing stuff together.  Our relationship will never be perfect, but there’s always going to be a part of that little girl who missed out on having a mother for the better part of her life craving to do things with her.  Now, there’s no chance of that.  It will be the same damn thing it always is.  I almost don’t want to go home, but I know that I do… I know that every part of me aches to be there.  I miss my home so much, I miss my state so much… I hate this place.

At least I knew it was coming.  I told my husband when she was leaving rehab that this wouldn’t work, it wasn’t enough.  I just wanted it to happy so badly.  She has cirrhosis of the liver.  She’s going to die if she doesn’t stop drinking.  You’d think that would be enough to stop someone, but it isn’t.  Her life is… well, it’s nothing.  She’s in debt, she has no money, no job, she’s living with a guy who sucks and has taken over her home, she’s pushed away the only people that loved her, and she’s completely isolated herself.  She has nothing to live for in her mind and when she sobers up, she’s faced with it… and so, the drinking commences again.  It’d be different if she wasn’t a mental drinker, but she is.  It’s how she numbs all the stuff she can’t face and also hides the symptoms of her own mental disorder.

Despite all this, I’ve managed to keep some semblance of balance.  I’m still losing weight… I’m down from 165 to around 151… almost back into the 140 range.  It’s been a slow, tedious process, but I can see the differences.  The husband has lost a lot of weight, too, and we’re getting his blood pressure on track, so that’s good.  We’ve been walking, playing racquetball, and I’ve been exercising on my own.

Now we just need to get the money situation under control, sigh.

I’d better go call my grandma before I get too depressed and just want to be left alone.