I've been feeling really awful lately and I don't know why
I didn't expect this to get this long. I appreciate if you read it, but I understand if you don't. I needed to write and I needed to send this to people.
I'm just looking for anybody with whom I can talk or chat. I honestly don't know what has come over me lately. I'm not as sad as I used to be. It wasn't even really me. I was this looming sadness like something was just wrong somewhere. I see that a lot of people have had to deal with deaths of family and friends and I don't like that.
I still have my faith. I believe in God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit. I believe that they are love. I believe that I'm instructed to love anybody, no matter what they believe. I do think it is good for me to have other Christian friends, but also that I'm not limit myself to only Christian friends. I believe there's a lot more out there than what strict conservative Christians say. I believe in auras and God letting spirits come visit the earth. I can feel places that are much more spiritual than others. The Grand Ole Opry was extremely spiritual. I miss being able to go back stage at ACTS because that was one of the most spiritual places for me. I know that I can go to downtown Lake Charles and Reid St, but I'm still afraid of them saying that I was on their property when I wasn't.
I don't know why I feel so awful. It is difficult navigating earth without my parents. However, it's been a few months over ten years since my Daddy passed (a heart attack due to complications with diabetic ketoacidosis - he had Type 1 diabetes) and almost six years since my Mama passed. Maybe that has something to do with it. Maybe my body is remembering something with my Mama at this time that I'm forgetting. It is coming upon September 15.
I've never written this, and I know that I'm not guilty about her dying, but I can remember one time about how I was being extremely silly with her. We were playing around about the Ides of March and I kept chaning the month. We laughed about saying the Ides of September and a death or her death. I don't remember what it was exactly, but it was nowhere near serious. Fast forward to her being extremely sick and then in the hospital - and her dying on the Ides of September.
I felt really guilty, too, because I couldn't make it up there when she was sent to the emergency room. Briana tells me that she was able to talk and forgave me for anything and said that she loved me, but I was only able to make it up to the hospital when she was in the ICU. Briana and I sang songs that were meaningful to all of us to her. We held her hands and we prayed. I couldn't say up there because it was freezing cold, but it was the hardest thing to tell the doctor to take her off all of the IVs and life support. This was only according to her wishes, though. She had always told me that she never wanted to be on machines or IVs. (Let it be known that my wishes are not like hers - if I am on life support and IV do not withdraw that from me. Please keep me alive and give me time to recover. Only if it is completely certain that I will never ever recover, then, maybe, withdraw the support . . . I want to live. So, yes to resuscitation as well.)
And, honestly, ever since I was in high school, I know I've wanted to be a mother. I know there's adoption, but I've always wanted at least one biological child or my own. The way I was raised, I expected that when I graduated college, I'd soon find a boyfriend, get married, have children, and move on with life. That hasn't happened. I graduated and got my first Bachelor's in 2004. My Daddy was already having great problems while I was in college then. He worked on the campus as a Chemistry Professor. There were so many days that I would go by the Chemistry building and there would be an ambulance outside. I knew that it meant he was having to be taken to the hospital and sometimes I would drive if I had a car and other times I'd have to ride to the hospital in the ambulance up front with the driver.
I looked for jobs so many places after I graduated, but I didn't find stuff. It didn't pay that well, but I then found freelance writing jobs and I at least could pay my own bills while living with my parents. I was perfectly fine living with them and they were fine with my living with them (honestly, I don't understand why people look at it like it's so taboo - I think families living together is a beautiful thing - and very common in other cultures - and honestly, still fairly common in the south).
Then my Daddy got so bad and one night he couldn't keep any food or liquid down. I was trying to be so good and obey his orders, but also help him. He refused to let anybody call 911, so I went out and drove the van that we had to the front of the house so he could get into it. He complained about where my Mama was going to whole time which didn't make sense because she was going to the hospital. When they got him in, I was told that he would be fine. I was expecting going home again after him spending a night a or two. However, he suddenly just closed his eyes on the bed and I heard a nurse yell, "Fuck!" and then he was taken back somewhere where I couldn't go. A doctor came out and said that things were going to be fine. I called a friend and she came to the hospital. We joked around about how so many guys don't take care of their health. We talked about one of her relatives that constantly did stupid things with his health. Less than an hour later, the doctor came out and said how I would need a friend, so it was good that she was there. That night was not a good night. All I remember was being in shock and getting chicken nuggets from Wendy's and then being in a deep depression for months.
My Mama, my sister, and I decided to go in and buy a house together. My Mama, who was already "not all there' at times, as I had definitely seen her mental abilities decline (she blamed them on age, but she was only 52 when she passed away, and I know people are often brilliant way past that age), started getting worse and worse. I tried to figure out things and would go to her doctor appointments with her. I was told that it was nothing more than Asperger's syndrome and low blood pressure with her and that it wouldn't get any worse. However, it constantly got worse. The neurologist she saw, Dr. Dimitru, didn't even speak decent English and he didn't say anything helpful. Her General Practicioner wouldn't listen to me about how bad she was. He didn't want to listen to me at all. He also would adjust her paxil at any time that she wanted without consulting a neurologist or psychiatrist.
I could never cuddle with my Mama at home because she never took a bath or a shower, no matter how much my sister or I tried to help her. She was never clean and she insisted on taking the car places. I would try to clean out the car so it didn't smell bad and I didn't smell bad. It was difficult and because of her doing this, I would have to buy Febreze and spray it all over the car and all over myself. People lied and said that I didn't take showers and only used Febreze - as well as my sister. MacFarlane's pub was so stupid and rude and banned us from the pub . . .
One time, her General Practioner, Dr. Arthur Primeaux took her off Paxil and he put her on Prozac, and that made her violent. She was even fighting the huge EMT that came when we had to call an ambulance. That was scary. One day, she went to get a newspaper from the lady where I was dogsitting and picking up her mail, making sure her house was in order. I was going to go to her house that Sunday after an evening worship service because it was right down the street. My Mama later insisted I wasn't doing my job, but I had constantly done it this way, so it was the same thing. However, when she was there, she apparently fell and somebody called an ambulance. A police officer had to come get me because she had taken our car. She asked my sister and me if she should go to the hospital after the EMT told her that her blood pressure was so low that her heart would probably stop if she even stood up . . . so of course we told her that she should go. This started a long time of her in the hospital and scary times, too. She once called our grandpa saying that she was home alone. He called the police. An officer shows up at my door saying that my father called (so, of course, this is scary being my Daddy passed away) and that he had a report of me being home alone. It was worked out that my Mama was in the hospital and must have called my grandpa. It hurt seeing my Mama all shriveled up in the hospital, too. Her body temperature got so low that they had a heating blanket under her and she complained that it was cold. I tried playing a game that I would play with her - "Do you want a" and I would just name random silly things. I'd often ask if she had wanted a cyanide pill just to be completely silly and she was say that of course she didn't. However, that time, she said she did.
Now, that I am 36 years old, it feels like I will never achieve what I've wanted in life - a family, or at least children (or even one child). I know that according to many, I still have a good six years of being a "young adult." However, it just feels like with so many of my classmates having children that are already in high school or classmate that have littles, that I am not where I should be. I want that experience of loving somebody so much that I just constantly want to be there for that person. I've wanted that since I was a teenager.
I know what it seems God told me one time and what it seems another friend of mine who understand these things got, but it makes no sense because that guy is married to somebody else now. I and some others can feel her "evil vibe" even from her pictures. We refer to her as a Regina George because she does do a lot of good things and hides her nastiness from other behind that guise. We don't do anything to her, though. It's just our term among us. He's been married to her for something like four years, maybe. So, weather the guy is him or somebody else, that doesn't matter. I won't even get into all the problems I had with her, but she is the one that had me arrested for stalking and cyberstalking which never happened - and now people use that against me even if all I want is to ask people to ask a friend to contact me. Then, it seems like even if I have a boyfriend (which I've not had one since I was in college from 2000-2004, so yeah, that kinda sucks), that I can't post about liking him because of nosy people that make up rumors.
But, what I really need is a good job. That way, somehow, I can have kids . . . whatever way that God wants that to happen. It's important to me. I want to keep my family's tradition of passing down the piano and the vinyls to the child who learns and loves music (or just the child if there is only one). And you know how they say people can just feel when something is missing? I really feel like a child is missing. I feel like at least one child belongs in my life. So, if you pray, or whatever, I appreciate it.
I'm just looking for anybody with whom I can talk or chat. I honestly don't know what has come over me lately. I'm not as sad as I used to be. It wasn't even really me. I was this looming sadness like something was just wrong somewhere. I see that a lot of people have had to deal with deaths of family and friends and I don't like that.
I still have my faith. I believe in God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit. I believe that they are love. I believe that I'm instructed to love anybody, no matter what they believe. I do think it is good for me to have other Christian friends, but also that I'm not limit myself to only Christian friends. I believe there's a lot more out there than what strict conservative Christians say. I believe in auras and God letting spirits come visit the earth. I can feel places that are much more spiritual than others. The Grand Ole Opry was extremely spiritual. I miss being able to go back stage at ACTS because that was one of the most spiritual places for me. I know that I can go to downtown Lake Charles and Reid St, but I'm still afraid of them saying that I was on their property when I wasn't.
I don't know why I feel so awful. It is difficult navigating earth without my parents. However, it's been a few months over ten years since my Daddy passed (a heart attack due to complications with diabetic ketoacidosis - he had Type 1 diabetes) and almost six years since my Mama passed. Maybe that has something to do with it. Maybe my body is remembering something with my Mama at this time that I'm forgetting. It is coming upon September 15.
I've never written this, and I know that I'm not guilty about her dying, but I can remember one time about how I was being extremely silly with her. We were playing around about the Ides of March and I kept chaning the month. We laughed about saying the Ides of September and a death or her death. I don't remember what it was exactly, but it was nowhere near serious. Fast forward to her being extremely sick and then in the hospital - and her dying on the Ides of September.
I felt really guilty, too, because I couldn't make it up there when she was sent to the emergency room. Briana tells me that she was able to talk and forgave me for anything and said that she loved me, but I was only able to make it up to the hospital when she was in the ICU. Briana and I sang songs that were meaningful to all of us to her. We held her hands and we prayed. I couldn't say up there because it was freezing cold, but it was the hardest thing to tell the doctor to take her off all of the IVs and life support. This was only according to her wishes, though. She had always told me that she never wanted to be on machines or IVs. (Let it be known that my wishes are not like hers - if I am on life support and IV do not withdraw that from me. Please keep me alive and give me time to recover. Only if it is completely certain that I will never ever recover, then, maybe, withdraw the support . . . I want to live. So, yes to resuscitation as well.)
And, honestly, ever since I was in high school, I know I've wanted to be a mother. I know there's adoption, but I've always wanted at least one biological child or my own. The way I was raised, I expected that when I graduated college, I'd soon find a boyfriend, get married, have children, and move on with life. That hasn't happened. I graduated and got my first Bachelor's in 2004. My Daddy was already having great problems while I was in college then. He worked on the campus as a Chemistry Professor. There were so many days that I would go by the Chemistry building and there would be an ambulance outside. I knew that it meant he was having to be taken to the hospital and sometimes I would drive if I had a car and other times I'd have to ride to the hospital in the ambulance up front with the driver.
I looked for jobs so many places after I graduated, but I didn't find stuff. It didn't pay that well, but I then found freelance writing jobs and I at least could pay my own bills while living with my parents. I was perfectly fine living with them and they were fine with my living with them (honestly, I don't understand why people look at it like it's so taboo - I think families living together is a beautiful thing - and very common in other cultures - and honestly, still fairly common in the south).
Then my Daddy got so bad and one night he couldn't keep any food or liquid down. I was trying to be so good and obey his orders, but also help him. He refused to let anybody call 911, so I went out and drove the van that we had to the front of the house so he could get into it. He complained about where my Mama was going to whole time which didn't make sense because she was going to the hospital. When they got him in, I was told that he would be fine. I was expecting going home again after him spending a night a or two. However, he suddenly just closed his eyes on the bed and I heard a nurse yell, "Fuck!" and then he was taken back somewhere where I couldn't go. A doctor came out and said that things were going to be fine. I called a friend and she came to the hospital. We joked around about how so many guys don't take care of their health. We talked about one of her relatives that constantly did stupid things with his health. Less than an hour later, the doctor came out and said how I would need a friend, so it was good that she was there. That night was not a good night. All I remember was being in shock and getting chicken nuggets from Wendy's and then being in a deep depression for months.
My Mama, my sister, and I decided to go in and buy a house together. My Mama, who was already "not all there' at times, as I had definitely seen her mental abilities decline (she blamed them on age, but she was only 52 when she passed away, and I know people are often brilliant way past that age), started getting worse and worse. I tried to figure out things and would go to her doctor appointments with her. I was told that it was nothing more than Asperger's syndrome and low blood pressure with her and that it wouldn't get any worse. However, it constantly got worse. The neurologist she saw, Dr. Dimitru, didn't even speak decent English and he didn't say anything helpful. Her General Practicioner wouldn't listen to me about how bad she was. He didn't want to listen to me at all. He also would adjust her paxil at any time that she wanted without consulting a neurologist or psychiatrist.
I could never cuddle with my Mama at home because she never took a bath or a shower, no matter how much my sister or I tried to help her. She was never clean and she insisted on taking the car places. I would try to clean out the car so it didn't smell bad and I didn't smell bad. It was difficult and because of her doing this, I would have to buy Febreze and spray it all over the car and all over myself. People lied and said that I didn't take showers and only used Febreze - as well as my sister. MacFarlane's pub was so stupid and rude and banned us from the pub . . .
One time, her General Practioner, Dr. Arthur Primeaux took her off Paxil and he put her on Prozac, and that made her violent. She was even fighting the huge EMT that came when we had to call an ambulance. That was scary. One day, she went to get a newspaper from the lady where I was dogsitting and picking up her mail, making sure her house was in order. I was going to go to her house that Sunday after an evening worship service because it was right down the street. My Mama later insisted I wasn't doing my job, but I had constantly done it this way, so it was the same thing. However, when she was there, she apparently fell and somebody called an ambulance. A police officer had to come get me because she had taken our car. She asked my sister and me if she should go to the hospital after the EMT told her that her blood pressure was so low that her heart would probably stop if she even stood up . . . so of course we told her that she should go. This started a long time of her in the hospital and scary times, too. She once called our grandpa saying that she was home alone. He called the police. An officer shows up at my door saying that my father called (so, of course, this is scary being my Daddy passed away) and that he had a report of me being home alone. It was worked out that my Mama was in the hospital and must have called my grandpa. It hurt seeing my Mama all shriveled up in the hospital, too. Her body temperature got so low that they had a heating blanket under her and she complained that it was cold. I tried playing a game that I would play with her - "Do you want a" and I would just name random silly things. I'd often ask if she had wanted a cyanide pill just to be completely silly and she was say that of course she didn't. However, that time, she said she did.
Now, that I am 36 years old, it feels like I will never achieve what I've wanted in life - a family, or at least children (or even one child). I know that according to many, I still have a good six years of being a "young adult." However, it just feels like with so many of my classmates having children that are already in high school or classmate that have littles, that I am not where I should be. I want that experience of loving somebody so much that I just constantly want to be there for that person. I've wanted that since I was a teenager.
I know what it seems God told me one time and what it seems another friend of mine who understand these things got, but it makes no sense because that guy is married to somebody else now. I and some others can feel her "evil vibe" even from her pictures. We refer to her as a Regina George because she does do a lot of good things and hides her nastiness from other behind that guise. We don't do anything to her, though. It's just our term among us. He's been married to her for something like four years, maybe. So, weather the guy is him or somebody else, that doesn't matter. I won't even get into all the problems I had with her, but she is the one that had me arrested for stalking and cyberstalking which never happened - and now people use that against me even if all I want is to ask people to ask a friend to contact me. Then, it seems like even if I have a boyfriend (which I've not had one since I was in college from 2000-2004, so yeah, that kinda sucks), that I can't post about liking him because of nosy people that make up rumors.
But, what I really need is a good job. That way, somehow, I can have kids . . . whatever way that God wants that to happen. It's important to me. I want to keep my family's tradition of passing down the piano and the vinyls to the child who learns and loves music (or just the child if there is only one). And you know how they say people can just feel when something is missing? I really feel like a child is missing. I feel like at least one child belongs in my life. So, if you pray, or whatever, I appreciate it.