The "goodbyes"
PLEASE DON'T SAY YOU'VE FORGOTTON ME!
sorry for not posting..... it's been so tough lately. I'll start with the worst and go towards the good things.
My Grampa has cancer. He's the only grandparent I have left and is the closest thing I have to a father. When I heard, it blew me away. Not JUST because he had cancer, but because I knew he did, even before he did. My mothers side of the family are insanely intuitive, we can read each others minds. If this was my anyone of the 17 cousins on mum's side they would of also known they had it.
I wanted to be wrong. I wished and cut and cut and cut, and wished, and cried and cried some more, and had a total nervous breakdown, which I still am in because I wanted to be wrong.. because I want to be wrong about this also..
My grandad is the strongest man I know. He's slightly stupid, very old fashioned but fiercly protective over anyone he loves. It is not normal for grandparants to stop helping out/giving a damn when their child has died. My grandad did more. Even though he buried his only son and his wife in the space of 6 months he is still here. He was still strong. He has head massive amounts of heartaches and recovers from them fully. Medically speaking he should be dead.
about... 6 years ago he was hospiitlised for a bloodclot, in his right, lower leg, racing towards his brain. The hospital amputated the leg below the knee. When I visited him that day he was hopped off on morphine, and quite Jolly. He clearly though, stated that at least it was below the knee, walking will be hard, but easier without removing the knee.
The NHS fucked up, totally fuckied up. (suprise suprise). When they called to say he'd been rushed into the operating theatre (they didn't catch the clot, they needed to amputate his entire leg and risk his heart dying, or just, leaving him there to die anyway), they told us to come quick, he probably wont survive, everybody come NOW, say your goodbye's. I wasn't scared. Not one tiny bit. Everyone was losing their minds and thought I was a heartless bitch to "not care", but I didn't. I didn't because I knew he'd live.
and i was right.
The most awful thing, is that now, as I said earlier, I want to be wrong. I want to be wrong because I am losing my mind with fear. I don't "know" he will live. I can't feel him, I can't... see a living man. So I'm pretty fucking scared.
my mother is drinking heavily again. This is not a stress thing going up to christmas, this is the straw that broke the camels back. Trust me, I've seen it before. She's bipolar with schizoprenic tendancies. Every five years she goes of the rails, for FIVE years, then she is calm and Mummy again, then five years later here we are. I'm looking back 10 years to when I was 9. After my father died. I remember violance, I remember this visious monster who was unstopable. First came the drink, then, the masses of pills, then the explosion.
I remember throwing my little brother in the bathroom and telling him not to make any noise or open the door untill, me nobody else but me tells him to. If she tries to turn the lock, grab the tea towel, wrap it around your death and hold that handle up with every ounce of strenth you contain.
My mother 3am watching me clean the kitchen top to bottom untill it was spotless. Calling me fat (I was 13 and 96 pounds). Telling me she's gonna kill herself and leave a note saying she couldn't stand me anymore, so I'll have this guilt for the rest of me life. The worst parts, throwing all my things into a suitcase and ordering me to sit at the end of the garden while she "called around" to see if anybody wanted me. I was let in when she opened the door and told me that not even social services wanted me so I can go up to my room and stay there untill she wants me.
The police, ripping me and Joe out of our homes and throwing us into the fostering system. I didn't want to go. Maddness maybe but I knew I'd rather be here than anywhere else in the world becuse she's my mummy. She sought help after that. and became her wonderfull (self?) through medication and therapy. I see the signs now and I'm wondering, can i go through that again?
Nicer things-
I am so proud of my brother. Not only is he doing well at college, but he's learning how to comunicate, he hasn't hit, screamed, or threatened me at all. He's very very nice to me. He asks for my company. He laughs more. He's made friends and has stood to say that his old actions were unforgivable. No they weren't, I've never unforgivven him in my life. He apologises and is more well mannared than usual. He is taking big steps and being very brave.
I have developed an obbsive crush on Josh Holloway. But I refuse to look in his fan groups in a absulute fear of seeing an episode of lost or a clue, before it hits the u.k. For me and between my geeky friend, that's enough for a death penality.
Colin has improved his life. I still don't find him attractive. I enjoy his company being near him but hate kissing him, love hugging him, no kiss.
..... OH NO!!! OH SHIT, OR SHIT. I FORGOT OUR ANNIVERARY. I WAS TYPING ABOUT HIM AND SHIT!
ih shit. That's the reason he came today unnacounced and watched me sleeping for an hour.
ok this is totally not scripted, I'm crying up like crazy. HOW THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN. HOW THE HELL COULD I FORGET THIS AND REMEMBER HOW MANY CALORIES I'VE EATEN TODAY.
OH GOD, HOW THE HELL CAN MAKE THIS UP TO HIM!
sorry for not posting..... it's been so tough lately. I'll start with the worst and go towards the good things.
My Grampa has cancer. He's the only grandparent I have left and is the closest thing I have to a father. When I heard, it blew me away. Not JUST because he had cancer, but because I knew he did, even before he did. My mothers side of the family are insanely intuitive, we can read each others minds. If this was my anyone of the 17 cousins on mum's side they would of also known they had it.
I wanted to be wrong. I wished and cut and cut and cut, and wished, and cried and cried some more, and had a total nervous breakdown, which I still am in because I wanted to be wrong.. because I want to be wrong about this also..
My grandad is the strongest man I know. He's slightly stupid, very old fashioned but fiercly protective over anyone he loves. It is not normal for grandparants to stop helping out/giving a damn when their child has died. My grandad did more. Even though he buried his only son and his wife in the space of 6 months he is still here. He was still strong. He has head massive amounts of heartaches and recovers from them fully. Medically speaking he should be dead.
about... 6 years ago he was hospiitlised for a bloodclot, in his right, lower leg, racing towards his brain. The hospital amputated the leg below the knee. When I visited him that day he was hopped off on morphine, and quite Jolly. He clearly though, stated that at least it was below the knee, walking will be hard, but easier without removing the knee.
The NHS fucked up, totally fuckied up. (suprise suprise). When they called to say he'd been rushed into the operating theatre (they didn't catch the clot, they needed to amputate his entire leg and risk his heart dying, or just, leaving him there to die anyway), they told us to come quick, he probably wont survive, everybody come NOW, say your goodbye's. I wasn't scared. Not one tiny bit. Everyone was losing their minds and thought I was a heartless bitch to "not care", but I didn't. I didn't because I knew he'd live.
and i was right.
The most awful thing, is that now, as I said earlier, I want to be wrong. I want to be wrong because I am losing my mind with fear. I don't "know" he will live. I can't feel him, I can't... see a living man. So I'm pretty fucking scared.
my mother is drinking heavily again. This is not a stress thing going up to christmas, this is the straw that broke the camels back. Trust me, I've seen it before. She's bipolar with schizoprenic tendancies. Every five years she goes of the rails, for FIVE years, then she is calm and Mummy again, then five years later here we are. I'm looking back 10 years to when I was 9. After my father died. I remember violance, I remember this visious monster who was unstopable. First came the drink, then, the masses of pills, then the explosion.
I remember throwing my little brother in the bathroom and telling him not to make any noise or open the door untill, me nobody else but me tells him to. If she tries to turn the lock, grab the tea towel, wrap it around your death and hold that handle up with every ounce of strenth you contain.
My mother 3am watching me clean the kitchen top to bottom untill it was spotless. Calling me fat (I was 13 and 96 pounds). Telling me she's gonna kill herself and leave a note saying she couldn't stand me anymore, so I'll have this guilt for the rest of me life. The worst parts, throwing all my things into a suitcase and ordering me to sit at the end of the garden while she "called around" to see if anybody wanted me. I was let in when she opened the door and told me that not even social services wanted me so I can go up to my room and stay there untill she wants me.
The police, ripping me and Joe out of our homes and throwing us into the fostering system. I didn't want to go. Maddness maybe but I knew I'd rather be here than anywhere else in the world becuse she's my mummy. She sought help after that. and became her wonderfull (self?) through medication and therapy. I see the signs now and I'm wondering, can i go through that again?
Nicer things-
I am so proud of my brother. Not only is he doing well at college, but he's learning how to comunicate, he hasn't hit, screamed, or threatened me at all. He's very very nice to me. He asks for my company. He laughs more. He's made friends and has stood to say that his old actions were unforgivable. No they weren't, I've never unforgivven him in my life. He apologises and is more well mannared than usual. He is taking big steps and being very brave.
I have developed an obbsive crush on Josh Holloway. But I refuse to look in his fan groups in a absulute fear of seeing an episode of lost or a clue, before it hits the u.k. For me and between my geeky friend, that's enough for a death penality.
Colin has improved his life. I still don't find him attractive. I enjoy his company being near him but hate kissing him, love hugging him, no kiss.
..... OH NO!!! OH SHIT, OR SHIT. I FORGOT OUR ANNIVERARY. I WAS TYPING ABOUT HIM AND SHIT!
ih shit. That's the reason he came today unnacounced and watched me sleeping for an hour.
ok this is totally not scripted, I'm crying up like crazy. HOW THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN. HOW THE HELL COULD I FORGET THIS AND REMEMBER HOW MANY CALORIES I'VE EATEN TODAY.
OH GOD, HOW THE HELL CAN MAKE THIS UP TO HIM!