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Let Me Out Of This Dream: I tell everyone I'm sorry that I don't post every time, and yet I still manage to neglect this journal anyway. But since my lovely Heather got me a paid account for my birthday, I know that I need to start paying it more attention. If I fail to keep my word this time, somebody please feel absolutely free to smack me good and hard, virtually in most of your cases.
Words truly cannot express how ecstatically ready I am for this year to be drawing to a close. After the exhausting, tragic summer my family endured, to the autumn that was spent trying to pick up the pieces, and now the nearly-winter fiasco we had early last week, my heart really can't stand any more stress. It may be my imagination, but I think I actually sprouted a few gray hairs after this year.
Where do I start? Current news first, I suppose.
This past Thursday was the second-year anniversary of when our sweet Kim Osbrink was taken away from us. Amber hosts a Christmas party every year at the store, and her co-worker Noah plays Santa Claus. Despite that Noah is now commuting and working at a new location in California, he made the trip up to give the kids (and let's be honest, most adult women, since Noah is West Linn's Designated Boy-That-Everyone-Has-a-Crush-On) an early holiday surprise. I went up to see him, sat on his lap and took a picture. We all laughed and made jokes amongst ourselves, but underneath the mirth there is always an undertone of melancholy in the air this time of year. They were, of course, playing Christmas songs over the loudspeakers, and when the song "Christmas Night" sang by a children's choir started up, Amber's look turned sour. Kimberly put that song as her ringtone all year round because she knew Amber hated it to begin with, but now added to the annoyance there is also pain in the memory of her friend. I think all of us feel as if we're living the lives that Kim should have had, and it simply doesn't seem fair.
She was crazy, that Kimberly Osbrink. I miss her so dearly.
Soaked to the Bone, Sink Like a Stone: So you all remember my last post at the beginning of November where I was all, "I met this guy who could be my long-awaited Mr. Wonderful, he's not a creep and he likes me, so it's going to work out, blah blah blah"? Raise your hands if you think it worked out.
If your hand is in the air right at this moment, then you obviously don't know my life very well. I tell myself every time something like this happens that I'm an utter fool, steel myself to ready for the crash, and yet I'm still totally thrown off when it actually happens. When will I ever learn? My instincts are evil, ridiculous, deceptive little monsters that should ever, under any circumstance be trusted.
His name was Taylor, he's a Marine who is currently stationed in North Carolina, but he is from my little town of West Linn and graduated from the same high school that I would have, one year ahead of me. He is also out of this world handsome; beautiful aqua green eyes, dirty blond hair, tattooed, buff, and tall. Imagine my surprise (re: I nearly choked on my own tongue) when he added me to his Facebook and proceeded to explain that he'd seen a picture of me at our mutual friend's birthday dinner. He thought I was "really cute", and wanted to see if I'd be willing to talk to him.
And here I am, completely o_O "HUH?!" I had a half of a mind to politely tell him that he must have the wrong girl, he couldn't possibly intend this for me. But he said no, he'd developed a little crush on me and would love to get to know the girl inside the picture better. Once again, choked on my tongue.
Fast forward to the day after I made that initial post about him, we exchanged phone numbers and texted back and forth. That night while I procrastinated on my homework, Taylor gets online and we chat for a while. He asks for my email and says he wants to "show me something". What in the hell possessed me to go along with it, and why the alarm bells didn't chime in, but I gave it to him. A few minutes later he tells me I can go in a look now. What do I find in my mail inbox than full-frontal, naked pictures of Mr. Charming. And he's all smug about it, really proud of himself. I was repulsed, promptly told him to never do that again, then shut down my computer. Obviously, I also deleted the offending pictures, but now, I thought, great, I still haven't broken off the impending date I made with this guy and I'm stuck. At that point, I wouldn't have gone within ten feet of him if he paid me.
A couple days later, he IMs on Facebook chat and apologizes for his stupidity. I explain to him a little about my situation with guys, that I've never had a serious relationship with anyone, so I'm not exactly ready for all that. And now I'm thinking he knows I'm a complete dork, so there goes my chance out the window. But not so, he says he understands and promises that he will never do such a thing again. I know, I'm too forgiving, and pathetic to boot since I'm always of the mindset that I can't pass up guys because I'll never find another who is interested.
Jump ahead once more to right after Thanksgiving, the end of November when he came home for holiday leave. That's when we planned to go out. I believe he came in on a Saturday, and on Sunday I get a call from him to tell me that he'd seen me at the grocery store, but he wasn't sure it was me so he didn't come up. He said he'd talk to me soon. Why, oh why must I be so naive? I should know that when a guy says that, it's the kiss of death. He texts me once more to see exactly which day would work best for us to get together. I said Thursday, I had school all that week and a bunch of other plans, so he said okay, see you Thursday. I must implore you again to respond to my question, WHY AM I SO BLIND?
Wednesday night comes, I know he's going out with his old high school buddies from a message he put up on Facebook, but I decide to double check with him about our plans. No response. Fine, I thought, it was late and maybe he was out somewhere that he couldn't hear the phone ring very well, but I was SURE he'd call me in the morning. Thursday morning, nothing; Thursday afternoon, nothing; Thursday night, nothing. Granted I should have remembered it was the Civil War football game between the PSU Ducks and OSU Beavers, but still, I expected some kind of courtesy text or call that said he couldn't make it. But nope, not in my world. The next day I find out -- via Facebook, of course -- that he is leaving for Washington where he will be for the remainder of his stay until he returns back to base in NC. And I'm dumb-founded. Stupid, ignorant, blind, gullible me is SURPRISED by this. Don't I know my own life by now? Guy don't like me, they aren't interested and certainly don't want to go on a real, intentional date with me. And they will always, always, always blow me off.
I've bounced around the gambit of emotions about this for weeks. I'm so angry I can't see straight, then not so much because the guy was a creep and who'd want to go out with him anyway? Soon to follow the 'who cares' is usually where my insecurities kick in, and I start tearing myself down for it; I'm not pretty enough, I'm not easy enough, I'm too shy, I'm too much of everything bad and not enough of anything good. But always, always it comes back to helpless loneliness followed by the simple question: Why? Why me? What is so irreversibly wrong with me, so futile, so unlovable about me? Why is it so easy for everyone else in my life -- the girls whom I went to middle school with, no older than I, who are married or engaged and starting to make lives for themselves with their loves -- but yet it's so difficult for me? I don't understand. I'll never get how it works, or who decides which people are worthy of happiness and love. But if I ever meet said person in charge who insists on kicking me when I'm down every damn time, I'll beat the hell out of them. I really will.
But I digress.
I'm A Sleep Walker: This season hardly feels like Christmas at all. My cousin never came to family gatherings anyway, but with him gone all that will be at our Christmas Day dinner will be my aunt, uncle, grandmother, my parents, Spencer, Jason, and myself. Eight people, that's such a small number. I remember back when I was a kid, we'd have thirty-five or more people in our house around the holidays. But now, most of the family on my mother's side is deceased, and we have no contact whatsoever with my father's side after what transpired between us all. My family gets smaller and smaller every year, and it's hard not to notice the absences.
Spencer will probably only stay for half the dinner anyway, because he'll undoubtedly rush off to split time with his girlfriend's family. Jason will at some point go over to Morgan's or back to his place to be with his friends, which brings me to my next gripe; the holidays make me so, so lonely. Special events and get-togethers around this time of year are, in my family, the prime time to introduce your significant other to the family. And guess who is the only one who has never, ever had someone to bring into the fold? Yep, me.
And I know it sounds juvenile and stupid, but it really starts to hurt when I hear my friend's complain about how they don't want to have to spend Christmas with their family and then make the rounds with their boyfriend/husband's family, because I'd love to have more than one place to be on Christmas Eve or Day. I would love to bring someone over to my aunt and uncle's and watch him interact with my family and show them how giddy in love we are, then shortly after dinner say we have to go and repeat the process at his family's place. I feel like I should be at that point with someone, but I'm nowhere even close.
I need to get off this subject before I depress myself much more.
I Tasted All The Tears Again: I posted on Facebook that we had a scary incident with my grandmother, but I never elaborated and some of you aren't on my Facebook list.
So I've talked briefly in the past about how rough things are for her after my grandfather passed, and most recently, my cousin. Her depression has manifested itself as extreme bouts of fear and paranoia; she thinks someone keeps breaking into her home, removing her belongings, and putting another, similar object in its place. Sometimes, she will say that she found the item in question, but it was in a spot that she would never have put it, so whoever is doing this must have simply moved it to make her seem crazy. She also has become obsessed with the feeling that everyone is angry with her; the neighbor didn't wave and say hello when she drove by, so it must be that he is angry with her; the check out person must hate her, because they didn't strike up a conversation with her, or they cheated her on purpose because they have something against her; my brothers, her friends, the doctor she sees isn't telling her she has cancer because he hates her, my uncle, my mother, myself all must despise her.
I know these are classic signs of dementia, but then again we don't have a proper diagnosis, and I'm no doctor of psychology. But last week, everything hit a fever pitch that put my mother over the edge and me into a panic attack.
My grandmother has always pointed the finger at my mom for things going missing or being moved around, most likely because we live across the street from her. She yelled at my mom on her fiftieth birthday for stealing her hair coloring, putting water in the bottle, and putting it back. She calls at least five times a day, demanding that my mom fess up to doing something with or stealing another of her belongings. But she's never said or accused my mom of such a thing as she did on Wednesday night.
My mom and I always watch a movie before we go to bed, and we'd settled in to do so when the phone rang. Spencer just left for the night shift at work, so of course we both freaked out, because there is never a phone call in the middle of the night that brings good news. Instead of Spencer, it was my grandmother. My hysterical, screaming grandmother.
She asked my mom why she was over at her house. My mom calmly told her that she was in bed, almost asleep. My grandmother persisted to claim that my mom was a liar, she plainly saw her walking around the house 'trying to scare her', as she put it. Finally, mom went over to see if she could get my grandmother to calm down, but in the process my grandma also called my uncle and yelled at him too. She told him that he and my mom were the reason all these awful things are happening to her, they just want her to leave her house so they're trying to scare her away. Grandma told them both that she would never speak to them again and didn't want to see anyone in the family as long as she lived.
The next night it happened again, but instead of my mom in the house my grandmother claimed she could see a strange man. My mom went over with her again because my grandma kept saying that whoever this man was he would kill her by morning. She wasn't as irrational as she was the previous night, just very uneasy and scared. My grandmother is very religious, and her mother believed in ghosts, so for a while she was convinced that her house was haunted. Spencer finally was able to talk to her and whatever he told her seemed to help. Since their conversation, it hasn't happened since.
I know that my grandma has a mental health problem, but at the time all of these hallucinations occurred she was also on heavy painkillers for her back and arthritis. The doctor gave her Tramadol, but after one pill didn't help her, she dug out an old prescription of Vicodin and took that on top of it. Among other things, Spencer told her never to mix that many narcotics ever again, because they can have serious adverse side effects like that. So far she hasn't and things have gotten better. But the whole ordeal has just been terrifying and stressful on everyone.
I love my family so much, but they are going to put me in an early grave.
I Scream At The Sky, But No Sound: Somehow I always manage to get sick around the holidays. I've been feeling perfectly fine, but suddenly last night I started running a high fever, got the extreme chills, headache, body aching, etc. -- all the tell-tale signs of my infamous kidney infections. One day before Christmas Eve, damnit. Looks like another year at home, alone. Tis the season, right?
Bah, the holidays always make me feel so lonely and isolated. I just need a boy to crawl in bed with me, pet my hair, and let me bury my face in his chest when I'm nauseated.
Okay, The Christmas Grinch will crawl back into her hole now. I love you all and hope that everyone has a fantastic holiday.
PS - I told her personally yesterday, but since I didn't get around to making a post about it, Happy belated Birthday, Lois. I hope you had a great day filled with lots of love from your husband, family and friends.
And speaking of which, my sweet dog-baby Star turns six today. How time flies!
Words truly cannot express how ecstatically ready I am for this year to be drawing to a close. After the exhausting, tragic summer my family endured, to the autumn that was spent trying to pick up the pieces, and now the nearly-winter fiasco we had early last week, my heart really can't stand any more stress. It may be my imagination, but I think I actually sprouted a few gray hairs after this year.
Where do I start? Current news first, I suppose.
This past Thursday was the second-year anniversary of when our sweet Kim Osbrink was taken away from us. Amber hosts a Christmas party every year at the store, and her co-worker Noah plays Santa Claus. Despite that Noah is now commuting and working at a new location in California, he made the trip up to give the kids (and let's be honest, most adult women, since Noah is West Linn's Designated Boy-That-Everyone-Has-a-Crush-On) an early holiday surprise. I went up to see him, sat on his lap and took a picture. We all laughed and made jokes amongst ourselves, but underneath the mirth there is always an undertone of melancholy in the air this time of year. They were, of course, playing Christmas songs over the loudspeakers, and when the song "Christmas Night" sang by a children's choir started up, Amber's look turned sour. Kimberly put that song as her ringtone all year round because she knew Amber hated it to begin with, but now added to the annoyance there is also pain in the memory of her friend. I think all of us feel as if we're living the lives that Kim should have had, and it simply doesn't seem fair.
She was crazy, that Kimberly Osbrink. I miss her so dearly.
Soaked to the Bone, Sink Like a Stone: So you all remember my last post at the beginning of November where I was all, "I met this guy who could be my long-awaited Mr. Wonderful, he's not a creep and he likes me, so it's going to work out, blah blah blah"? Raise your hands if you think it worked out.
If your hand is in the air right at this moment, then you obviously don't know my life very well. I tell myself every time something like this happens that I'm an utter fool, steel myself to ready for the crash, and yet I'm still totally thrown off when it actually happens. When will I ever learn? My instincts are evil, ridiculous, deceptive little monsters that should ever, under any circumstance be trusted.
His name was Taylor, he's a Marine who is currently stationed in North Carolina, but he is from my little town of West Linn and graduated from the same high school that I would have, one year ahead of me. He is also out of this world handsome; beautiful aqua green eyes, dirty blond hair, tattooed, buff, and tall. Imagine my surprise (re: I nearly choked on my own tongue) when he added me to his Facebook and proceeded to explain that he'd seen a picture of me at our mutual friend's birthday dinner. He thought I was "really cute", and wanted to see if I'd be willing to talk to him.
And here I am, completely o_O "HUH?!" I had a half of a mind to politely tell him that he must have the wrong girl, he couldn't possibly intend this for me. But he said no, he'd developed a little crush on me and would love to get to know the girl inside the picture better. Once again, choked on my tongue.
Fast forward to the day after I made that initial post about him, we exchanged phone numbers and texted back and forth. That night while I procrastinated on my homework, Taylor gets online and we chat for a while. He asks for my email and says he wants to "show me something". What in the hell possessed me to go along with it, and why the alarm bells didn't chime in, but I gave it to him. A few minutes later he tells me I can go in a look now. What do I find in my mail inbox than full-frontal, naked pictures of Mr. Charming. And he's all smug about it, really proud of himself. I was repulsed, promptly told him to never do that again, then shut down my computer. Obviously, I also deleted the offending pictures, but now, I thought, great, I still haven't broken off the impending date I made with this guy and I'm stuck. At that point, I wouldn't have gone within ten feet of him if he paid me.
A couple days later, he IMs on Facebook chat and apologizes for his stupidity. I explain to him a little about my situation with guys, that I've never had a serious relationship with anyone, so I'm not exactly ready for all that. And now I'm thinking he knows I'm a complete dork, so there goes my chance out the window. But not so, he says he understands and promises that he will never do such a thing again. I know, I'm too forgiving, and pathetic to boot since I'm always of the mindset that I can't pass up guys because I'll never find another who is interested.
Jump ahead once more to right after Thanksgiving, the end of November when he came home for holiday leave. That's when we planned to go out. I believe he came in on a Saturday, and on Sunday I get a call from him to tell me that he'd seen me at the grocery store, but he wasn't sure it was me so he didn't come up. He said he'd talk to me soon. Why, oh why must I be so naive? I should know that when a guy says that, it's the kiss of death. He texts me once more to see exactly which day would work best for us to get together. I said Thursday, I had school all that week and a bunch of other plans, so he said okay, see you Thursday. I must implore you again to respond to my question, WHY AM I SO BLIND?
Wednesday night comes, I know he's going out with his old high school buddies from a message he put up on Facebook, but I decide to double check with him about our plans. No response. Fine, I thought, it was late and maybe he was out somewhere that he couldn't hear the phone ring very well, but I was SURE he'd call me in the morning. Thursday morning, nothing; Thursday afternoon, nothing; Thursday night, nothing. Granted I should have remembered it was the Civil War football game between the PSU Ducks and OSU Beavers, but still, I expected some kind of courtesy text or call that said he couldn't make it. But nope, not in my world. The next day I find out -- via Facebook, of course -- that he is leaving for Washington where he will be for the remainder of his stay until he returns back to base in NC. And I'm dumb-founded. Stupid, ignorant, blind, gullible me is SURPRISED by this. Don't I know my own life by now? Guy don't like me, they aren't interested and certainly don't want to go on a real, intentional date with me. And they will always, always, always blow me off.
I've bounced around the gambit of emotions about this for weeks. I'm so angry I can't see straight, then not so much because the guy was a creep and who'd want to go out with him anyway? Soon to follow the 'who cares' is usually where my insecurities kick in, and I start tearing myself down for it; I'm not pretty enough, I'm not easy enough, I'm too shy, I'm too much of everything bad and not enough of anything good. But always, always it comes back to helpless loneliness followed by the simple question: Why? Why me? What is so irreversibly wrong with me, so futile, so unlovable about me? Why is it so easy for everyone else in my life -- the girls whom I went to middle school with, no older than I, who are married or engaged and starting to make lives for themselves with their loves -- but yet it's so difficult for me? I don't understand. I'll never get how it works, or who decides which people are worthy of happiness and love. But if I ever meet said person in charge who insists on kicking me when I'm down every damn time, I'll beat the hell out of them. I really will.
But I digress.
I'm A Sleep Walker: This season hardly feels like Christmas at all. My cousin never came to family gatherings anyway, but with him gone all that will be at our Christmas Day dinner will be my aunt, uncle, grandmother, my parents, Spencer, Jason, and myself. Eight people, that's such a small number. I remember back when I was a kid, we'd have thirty-five or more people in our house around the holidays. But now, most of the family on my mother's side is deceased, and we have no contact whatsoever with my father's side after what transpired between us all. My family gets smaller and smaller every year, and it's hard not to notice the absences.
Spencer will probably only stay for half the dinner anyway, because he'll undoubtedly rush off to split time with his girlfriend's family. Jason will at some point go over to Morgan's or back to his place to be with his friends, which brings me to my next gripe; the holidays make me so, so lonely. Special events and get-togethers around this time of year are, in my family, the prime time to introduce your significant other to the family. And guess who is the only one who has never, ever had someone to bring into the fold? Yep, me.
And I know it sounds juvenile and stupid, but it really starts to hurt when I hear my friend's complain about how they don't want to have to spend Christmas with their family and then make the rounds with their boyfriend/husband's family, because I'd love to have more than one place to be on Christmas Eve or Day. I would love to bring someone over to my aunt and uncle's and watch him interact with my family and show them how giddy in love we are, then shortly after dinner say we have to go and repeat the process at his family's place. I feel like I should be at that point with someone, but I'm nowhere even close.
I need to get off this subject before I depress myself much more.
I Tasted All The Tears Again: I posted on Facebook that we had a scary incident with my grandmother, but I never elaborated and some of you aren't on my Facebook list.
So I've talked briefly in the past about how rough things are for her after my grandfather passed, and most recently, my cousin. Her depression has manifested itself as extreme bouts of fear and paranoia; she thinks someone keeps breaking into her home, removing her belongings, and putting another, similar object in its place. Sometimes, she will say that she found the item in question, but it was in a spot that she would never have put it, so whoever is doing this must have simply moved it to make her seem crazy. She also has become obsessed with the feeling that everyone is angry with her; the neighbor didn't wave and say hello when she drove by, so it must be that he is angry with her; the check out person must hate her, because they didn't strike up a conversation with her, or they cheated her on purpose because they have something against her; my brothers, her friends, the doctor she sees isn't telling her she has cancer because he hates her, my uncle, my mother, myself all must despise her.
I know these are classic signs of dementia, but then again we don't have a proper diagnosis, and I'm no doctor of psychology. But last week, everything hit a fever pitch that put my mother over the edge and me into a panic attack.
My grandmother has always pointed the finger at my mom for things going missing or being moved around, most likely because we live across the street from her. She yelled at my mom on her fiftieth birthday for stealing her hair coloring, putting water in the bottle, and putting it back. She calls at least five times a day, demanding that my mom fess up to doing something with or stealing another of her belongings. But she's never said or accused my mom of such a thing as she did on Wednesday night.
My mom and I always watch a movie before we go to bed, and we'd settled in to do so when the phone rang. Spencer just left for the night shift at work, so of course we both freaked out, because there is never a phone call in the middle of the night that brings good news. Instead of Spencer, it was my grandmother. My hysterical, screaming grandmother.
She asked my mom why she was over at her house. My mom calmly told her that she was in bed, almost asleep. My grandmother persisted to claim that my mom was a liar, she plainly saw her walking around the house 'trying to scare her', as she put it. Finally, mom went over to see if she could get my grandmother to calm down, but in the process my grandma also called my uncle and yelled at him too. She told him that he and my mom were the reason all these awful things are happening to her, they just want her to leave her house so they're trying to scare her away. Grandma told them both that she would never speak to them again and didn't want to see anyone in the family as long as she lived.
The next night it happened again, but instead of my mom in the house my grandmother claimed she could see a strange man. My mom went over with her again because my grandma kept saying that whoever this man was he would kill her by morning. She wasn't as irrational as she was the previous night, just very uneasy and scared. My grandmother is very religious, and her mother believed in ghosts, so for a while she was convinced that her house was haunted. Spencer finally was able to talk to her and whatever he told her seemed to help. Since their conversation, it hasn't happened since.
I know that my grandma has a mental health problem, but at the time all of these hallucinations occurred she was also on heavy painkillers for her back and arthritis. The doctor gave her Tramadol, but after one pill didn't help her, she dug out an old prescription of Vicodin and took that on top of it. Among other things, Spencer told her never to mix that many narcotics ever again, because they can have serious adverse side effects like that. So far she hasn't and things have gotten better. But the whole ordeal has just been terrifying and stressful on everyone.
I love my family so much, but they are going to put me in an early grave.
I Scream At The Sky, But No Sound: Somehow I always manage to get sick around the holidays. I've been feeling perfectly fine, but suddenly last night I started running a high fever, got the extreme chills, headache, body aching, etc. -- all the tell-tale signs of my infamous kidney infections. One day before Christmas Eve, damnit. Looks like another year at home, alone. Tis the season, right?
Bah, the holidays always make me feel so lonely and isolated. I just need a boy to crawl in bed with me, pet my hair, and let me bury my face in his chest when I'm nauseated.
Okay, The Christmas Grinch will crawl back into her hole now. I love you all and hope that everyone has a fantastic holiday.
PS - I told her personally yesterday, but since I didn't get around to making a post about it, Happy belated Birthday, Lois. I hope you had a great day filled with lots of love from your husband, family and friends.
And speaking of which, my sweet dog-baby Star turns six today. How time flies!