And so it ends, and begins again...
So this year is shaping up to be pretty shaky so far.
At the beginning of the year, I was laid off from my job. We hit a rough patch of several months where clients weren't paying their bills and work was slow. The whole business might be going under, but they've tried to cut anything they can in the meantime to make it work. I really liked both of my bosses and I'll actually miss working for them.
So the job hunt begins again. I've had a few interviews in the months since I was let go, but nothing has stuck yet. So, in the meantime, I have been keeping myself busy by crafting all over the place and cleaning. I've finished more projects in the last few months than I have in the last five years. And I don't really see this stopping. At some point, I found a confidence in my crafts that wasn't there the last time I seriously picked them up. It feels good to look at something online and have the thought "I could make that" and know that it is actually something I can do.
Now, if I could just figure out how to shape and form things around my too curvy chest without needing a bunch of alterations, that would be fantastic(the lack of a dress form - or room for one - hurts this somewhat).
Then there's this month. This last week really.
Last Monday night, about 11pm, I got a call from my older sister(*). She sobbingly told me MamaJackie had died.
I still, a week later, don't know how to feel about this. Jackie was the woman who adopted me and raised me as her daughter instead of granddaughter. I know she loved me. I also know she resented me, and saw me as a bad seed. After a certain age, she was not really emotionally there for me at all. She saw too much of my birth mother in me. By the time I reached high school, her dementia had begun to creep in... but no one else saw it happening. And who listens to a teenager who tells people her parent is crazy?
Long story short, Jackie is the root of a lot of my 'issues'. I have nightmares about her still. And I've known for years now that I would never get an explanation or closure on any of it because her mind was too far gone to confront her on any of it.
So I hate her. And I love her. And I pity her for having been trapped in her own body during her rare lucid moments and begging us to end it for her. And I feel relieved that she's free. And relieved that I will no longer be pressured to go visit her by family. And relieved that this era of my life is over. And I am scared and sad and bitter because I know the things that she helped burn into me will linger long after the dirt on her grave has settled and grown grass.
In two weeks, I turn 30. 18 days is 13 years together with Puppy.
*My blood aunt, the adoption made her my sister
At the beginning of the year, I was laid off from my job. We hit a rough patch of several months where clients weren't paying their bills and work was slow. The whole business might be going under, but they've tried to cut anything they can in the meantime to make it work. I really liked both of my bosses and I'll actually miss working for them.
So the job hunt begins again. I've had a few interviews in the months since I was let go, but nothing has stuck yet. So, in the meantime, I have been keeping myself busy by crafting all over the place and cleaning. I've finished more projects in the last few months than I have in the last five years. And I don't really see this stopping. At some point, I found a confidence in my crafts that wasn't there the last time I seriously picked them up. It feels good to look at something online and have the thought "I could make that" and know that it is actually something I can do.
Now, if I could just figure out how to shape and form things around my too curvy chest without needing a bunch of alterations, that would be fantastic(the lack of a dress form - or room for one - hurts this somewhat).
Then there's this month. This last week really.
Last Monday night, about 11pm, I got a call from my older sister(*). She sobbingly told me MamaJackie had died.
I still, a week later, don't know how to feel about this. Jackie was the woman who adopted me and raised me as her daughter instead of granddaughter. I know she loved me. I also know she resented me, and saw me as a bad seed. After a certain age, she was not really emotionally there for me at all. She saw too much of my birth mother in me. By the time I reached high school, her dementia had begun to creep in... but no one else saw it happening. And who listens to a teenager who tells people her parent is crazy?
Long story short, Jackie is the root of a lot of my 'issues'. I have nightmares about her still. And I've known for years now that I would never get an explanation or closure on any of it because her mind was too far gone to confront her on any of it.
So I hate her. And I love her. And I pity her for having been trapped in her own body during her rare lucid moments and begging us to end it for her. And I feel relieved that she's free. And relieved that I will no longer be pressured to go visit her by family. And relieved that this era of my life is over. And I am scared and sad and bitter because I know the things that she helped burn into me will linger long after the dirt on her grave has settled and grown grass.
In two weeks, I turn 30. 18 days is 13 years together with Puppy.
*My blood aunt, the adoption made her my sister