3 posts tagged “sadness”
I don't know what to do or say or even think. I'm so afraid and so sad. I wish I could be angry at him.
I don't want my dad to leave. I don't think he wants to either, but I think he just doesn't know what to do. He just turned fifty, he's going deaf, he hates his job, he has to live half the month in another city because of said job, and he is just so unhappy that he thinks a divorce will solve it.
Yet in the process he's making his children miserable.
I am so confused.
I am so scared. Scared out of my mind. It started last week, I was sick all week, on loads of painkillers doping up my head so I wouldn't feel the pain in my leg, and by the time the week had ended I had lost time and just fucking lost everything.
I am not suicidal, I know I would NEVER kill myself, I couldn't do that to my family. But I am having a hard time finding anything I want to live for; anything I want to do, change, be--but that's probably because I am so preoccupied with fear.
My anxiety is back. My stomach is in knots and my throat. I can't breathe, my eyes well up with tears, I'm breathing so fast I've got a side splint. I want to go to sleep and never wake up.
Certain things trigger this sort of behavior in me, and last night it was really triggered. What was supposed to be a nice weekend away and fun at a basketball game just WASNT. My dad was standoffish, my mom was overtired, I was anxious and my brother was depressed from breaking things off with his (ex)fiance.
I feel better after crying and talking and writing things down and taking some medicine to help me just CHILL out. Much much better, but not all the way. Hopefully this week will be better than this weekend. Dear god please let it be better.
Horrible night tonight. Maybe not horrible, but definetly up there on the List of Bad Experiences for the Month of November. Mom and I went to see Running With Scissors. We got to the theater, long lines even at a somewhat late 9:45 showing. Waited forever to get a “small” drink (32 oz. is small now?). Went down the escalator, people brushed by us, walking down the stairs like they were NOT MOVING FAST ENOUGH. I wanted to push them over the side of the railing. It would hurt, falling that far down. I’ve gotten into the habit of muttering “bitch” when I’m annoyed at someone, just barely audible.
What really sucked was not the people passing by us hurriedly with no “excuse me”, or the girl working at the concessions making me wait while she talked with some other girl, but it was after all that, when my mom and I finally sat down near the back, during the previews. My mom has a habit of clearing her throat, she has done it for as long as I can remember and it’s the same as others chomping on their nails or tapping their fingers, I hardly notice it now. Adding to this, she has a bit of an upper respiratory thing going on, because of the extreme cold we’ve had the past few days (called cold weather asthma). Well, apparently she was clearing her throat a lot during the first part of the movie. Twenty minutes through, a guy sitting directly in front of me, stood up a little and turned to my mom.
“Do you need me to get you a glass of water?” Seemed almost like a nice gesture, until the woman to the left of him stood as well and said something like, “You have been COUGHING this whole MOVIE. Gosh!”
They got up, gathered their arrogance and attitude and moved it across the theater where they hastily sat ten rows ahead of us on the opposite side of the room. Mom and I were kind of stunned, at the rudeness.
About twenty minutes after that, once our disbelief was lost in the movie, a man sitting a seat away from my mom (two seats away from me), leaned over and said,
“Could you just COVER your MOUTH when you COUGH?”
Fuck you very much. F.Y.V.M. She leaned to me and said, “Come on, let’s just go.” I grabbed her arm as she stood and tried to reason with her, but I saw tears in her eyes. This week has been too stressful, all we wanted was two hours of peace and a movie to enjoy. We went down the stairs and to the door, but two steps out we turned around and came back in. We decided to just sit in the front, close to the speakers and the screen, the vibrations would hide any coughs.
I don’t understand people’s rudeness. That man and woman could have just said, “Do you need a coughdrop, you’re coughing an awful lot,” but no, that’d be too nice. Luckily, my mom replied to Rude Man #2 “I’m not contageous, I’m on chemotherapy.” More effective than just saying “I’m not contageous, I have an autoimmune disease called systemic lupus.”
The other bad part was the movie. It was a fabulous movie, but the main character, Augusten Burroughs, reminded me so much of a certain person who is never going to be in my life again. Every time a person teared up in the movie, so did I. The tears just overflowed from me, I just had too much in me, and my body couldn’t hold that in anymore.
As I snuggled up to my mom, watching the movie, my head on her shoulder, her head on my head, I wanted to protect her, probably as much as she wanted to protect me. I love her to death, and back.
