Drowning, continued. …
Oh, BTW, don’t think I enjoy feeling miserable. It’s just magnified right now. This is a habit of mine, indulging in self-pity, to avoid what’s really wrong. Besides, I just can’t share everything on these pages. I’d be glad if nobody ever read this blog but me, but because that’s unlikely, I have to retain a hold on the things that bother me the most and only share my surface problems (either that, or just act happy, because nobody wants to hear what’s really bothering you … gawd knows I can’t stand reading blogs where people are wallowing — I’d rather hear about the fun things they are seeing and doing, and here’s to hoping that my own blog will return to that point.).
My grandfather was just diagnosed with cancer. This, on top of an aneurysm, diabetes, a heart condition, a back injury from WWII, and a variety of other maladies that show up in “the golden years.” And mom continually disguises her own problems, which she discloses in small ways, here and there, but without health insurance, she’s kinda fucked. And my grandfather goes to the V.A., which is a total fucking joke … don’t even get me started on all the horror stories … there ain’t enough bandwidth in cyberspace to list all of our adventures with incompetence at the V.A. hospitals in Pittsburgh.
At any rate, I’ve always worried about my family, and now that they’re far away, it’s a mixed blessing. I mean, I know there’s not a damn thing I can do from 250 miles away, but then again, that doesn’t stop me from worrying. Had I stayed at Two Strikes, I was planning to get a bigger apartment with an extra bedroom, in the event that we lost my grandfather, my mom would always have a place to stay (because as his full-time caregiver, it’s not like she has any of her own resources). And while she’d rather drive her car off a cliff than be dependent upon me, I know the family tradition of caring for elders will continue. (of course, it was my mom who took care of her own grandmother, her mother and now her father … who’s left to take care of her? She and I are both without siblings, so there ain’t help on the horizon). So, it saddens me when mom says she’s going to try to send me money or buy cat food or whatever, when she doesn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. I’m hiding a lot of stories within these words, of course, but it’s safe to summarize that I’d love to see my family without struggle … that is all that they have ever known, and I feel like I should have utilized (or begin to utilize) the opportunities that have come my way so that I can give back to them in some, any way. And although they’d never expect it, I still feel like I’m failing them in that respect. I should be able to help them, or at least, be prepared for the worst, although mom’s just planning to be a bag lady. lol. She’s got a spirit about her, that’s for sure! Although I did inherit her quick-to-anger streak. Both of us really do want to be anywhere but wherever we presently are, which probably explains our insane attachment to the movie and soundtrack “Anywhere but Here.”
I was once told by my grandmother that there had been a curse put upon our family. I never believed her, even though she and mom both had a strange sixth sense about everything. At any rate, I always figured I’d be the one to break the supposed curse, but maybe I’m falling right into it. How on earth can I break free?