..
Almost 2AM. I want to update before I sleep so I can get this out of my mind and actually sleep.
Mom will be gone in the morning. She's off to leave for her cruise inspection and her 10K race. I'm really worried about getting a phone call about mom collapsing or something bad happening to her. If I thought I was in bad shape--she's in way worse condition. Even walking fast makes her tired. I don't always get along with my mother, I will be the first to say. She can be a severe pain in my rear end. And she nit picks at what I do because I am not more like her. But she does love me, I know that within my heart, and without a doubt I know she loves me. And in that sense, I love her too. She is my only family, and I care about her. I have nightmares of her being on her own. Of bad things happening, like a car accident, or her being robbed. I've heard her cry, I've heard her scream when Jon has hit her. I can't bear to think of the pain she was in when Greg raped her. Somehow, those carry on with me, and I always fear for her when she is on her own. I mean--look at the last time I left her on her own.
She tried to kill herself.
Twice.
Albeit the second time, she just sobbed herself to sleep, and I was fairly sure she had tried to kill herself again. Again, I thank Kane for saving me from hysteria. I never get hysterical over -any-thing but my mother. Hysteria isn't even in my vocabulary as far as I am concerned except for when it's my mother involved. Regardless, I have always looked after my mother, I fed her cereal when I thought she was sick. I picked up after her in her drunken stupors. When we were lost in Myrtle Beach, I knew she was drunk and wandering around the streets of a party town on the weekend with a six year old is not exactly...smart. Somehow I got us back without being kidnapped and sold on the black market. I felt protective of her in Jamaica, and was prepared to try and carry her if her ankles got even more swollen. I owe this woman my life. She brought me into this world--it was her choice. Yes, I was a rape child, but that didn't mean she had to have me. She made the choice to love me and protect me as best she could. To teach me as best she could. Yes, I grew up as an only child, and yes, she spent the majority of her life working. But it was for us. And I owe her a lot for that. I'm not her perfect child by any means, but...I at least owe her that.
So. About an hour later, after typing all that, I have returned. I had an hour-long conversation with mom, just checking on her. We went from talking about her day, to work, to habits, to Uncle Mike, to Grandma to--and I knew it would end with me--me. and something I have put a lot of thought into, a starting point for my career. People tell me, I don't have to do one thing for the rest of my life, but I have to start somewhere. Where do I start? I wanted nothing more than to design my room. I wanted new furniture, new space-saving things, more decor. I've always wanted to design. I always said, I can't wait until I have my own home because over time I'd make it fabulous and home-worthy. And then it hit home...it really, really hit home. I have artistic talent, I know I do, I've been told I do. My fucking art teacher told me I had neurosurgeon's hands. I just...don't -do- anything with it. When the inspiration hits me--even if I'm in the middle of picking up my room--I will find a paint brush and set about whatever vision was in my head as best I can. I am a decent artist when it comes to drawing. A lot of that stemmed from hours in my room sketching from reference and then rearranging it myself until I knew what I wanted to draw. I am such a perfectionist that I will look at a reference and try to recreate it. Sometimes there is something else I see that I want to replicate because it's perfect to what I am thinking about. Sometimes there is an entire image in my head, and I can't exactly keep it there long enough to put it on paper.
So I think that is where I will start, since I know I have some talent and a leg up in that field. Then graduate into the next subject I want to learn, and spread out and see where it takes me.
So...almost three hours later from starting...
...a lot of pain. Chest is hurting a -lot-. Which is highly annoying and causes me a lot of pain and misery. I am resisting sleep so I don't miss mom, and so mom doesn't sleep through her alarm. Then I will nap for a few hours and attempt a shower and to feel...Human. It rained, and it was a dreary day...and I just couldn't do it. I barely left my bed except to fix the printer issue--which I DID FUCKING FIX. It was simple...remove the right cartridge. Problem solved. I dunno wtf is wrong with the cartridge, but it wasn't going to help the printer work so I pulled it out. Bam. Printer worked just fine after that. So. Take that technology!
I got bored and took random pictures...20 minutes until mom wakes up. I love my Seahorses. They are truly pretty to look at at night. It's a simple wind chime, but the construct of it, and my imagination, they are just lovely creatures dancing in water and bubbles. It's hard because the camera catches the Halo of light more than my naked eye does. But the light filtering through and lighting up the silver spiral, and the blue beads, and the Seahorses themselves...lovely.
Now I am in a mood for photography...I will update later with pictures of various things.
For now, making sure mom has everything she needs.
Mom will be gone in the morning. She's off to leave for her cruise inspection and her 10K race. I'm really worried about getting a phone call about mom collapsing or something bad happening to her. If I thought I was in bad shape--she's in way worse condition. Even walking fast makes her tired. I don't always get along with my mother, I will be the first to say. She can be a severe pain in my rear end. And she nit picks at what I do because I am not more like her. But she does love me, I know that within my heart, and without a doubt I know she loves me. And in that sense, I love her too. She is my only family, and I care about her. I have nightmares of her being on her own. Of bad things happening, like a car accident, or her being robbed. I've heard her cry, I've heard her scream when Jon has hit her. I can't bear to think of the pain she was in when Greg raped her. Somehow, those carry on with me, and I always fear for her when she is on her own. I mean--look at the last time I left her on her own.
She tried to kill herself.
Twice.
Albeit the second time, she just sobbed herself to sleep, and I was fairly sure she had tried to kill herself again. Again, I thank Kane for saving me from hysteria. I never get hysterical over -any-thing but my mother. Hysteria isn't even in my vocabulary as far as I am concerned except for when it's my mother involved. Regardless, I have always looked after my mother, I fed her cereal when I thought she was sick. I picked up after her in her drunken stupors. When we were lost in Myrtle Beach, I knew she was drunk and wandering around the streets of a party town on the weekend with a six year old is not exactly...smart. Somehow I got us back without being kidnapped and sold on the black market. I felt protective of her in Jamaica, and was prepared to try and carry her if her ankles got even more swollen. I owe this woman my life. She brought me into this world--it was her choice. Yes, I was a rape child, but that didn't mean she had to have me. She made the choice to love me and protect me as best she could. To teach me as best she could. Yes, I grew up as an only child, and yes, she spent the majority of her life working. But it was for us. And I owe her a lot for that. I'm not her perfect child by any means, but...I at least owe her that.
So. About an hour later, after typing all that, I have returned. I had an hour-long conversation with mom, just checking on her. We went from talking about her day, to work, to habits, to Uncle Mike, to Grandma to--and I knew it would end with me--me. and something I have put a lot of thought into, a starting point for my career. People tell me, I don't have to do one thing for the rest of my life, but I have to start somewhere. Where do I start? I wanted nothing more than to design my room. I wanted new furniture, new space-saving things, more decor. I've always wanted to design. I always said, I can't wait until I have my own home because over time I'd make it fabulous and home-worthy. And then it hit home...it really, really hit home. I have artistic talent, I know I do, I've been told I do. My fucking art teacher told me I had neurosurgeon's hands. I just...don't -do- anything with it. When the inspiration hits me--even if I'm in the middle of picking up my room--I will find a paint brush and set about whatever vision was in my head as best I can. I am a decent artist when it comes to drawing. A lot of that stemmed from hours in my room sketching from reference and then rearranging it myself until I knew what I wanted to draw. I am such a perfectionist that I will look at a reference and try to recreate it. Sometimes there is something else I see that I want to replicate because it's perfect to what I am thinking about. Sometimes there is an entire image in my head, and I can't exactly keep it there long enough to put it on paper.
So I think that is where I will start, since I know I have some talent and a leg up in that field. Then graduate into the next subject I want to learn, and spread out and see where it takes me.
So...almost three hours later from starting...
...a lot of pain. Chest is hurting a -lot-. Which is highly annoying and causes me a lot of pain and misery. I am resisting sleep so I don't miss mom, and so mom doesn't sleep through her alarm. Then I will nap for a few hours and attempt a shower and to feel...Human. It rained, and it was a dreary day...and I just couldn't do it. I barely left my bed except to fix the printer issue--which I DID FUCKING FIX. It was simple...remove the right cartridge. Problem solved. I dunno wtf is wrong with the cartridge, but it wasn't going to help the printer work so I pulled it out. Bam. Printer worked just fine after that. So. Take that technology!
I got bored and took random pictures...20 minutes until mom wakes up. I love my Seahorses. They are truly pretty to look at at night. It's a simple wind chime, but the construct of it, and my imagination, they are just lovely creatures dancing in water and bubbles. It's hard because the camera catches the Halo of light more than my naked eye does. But the light filtering through and lighting up the silver spiral, and the blue beads, and the Seahorses themselves...lovely.
Now I am in a mood for photography...I will update later with pictures of various things.
For now, making sure mom has everything she needs.