well. it's been a while.
Just gonna put this all behind a cut so it's not some giant post clogging up anyone's friend page.
Life has more or less royally sucked since the last time I updated. I wish I could start it off positively, and I suppose I could've, but might as well get the bad out first so I can end with the positive notes.
I have no friends. I don't know what I did, but I don't have them. I have nobody offline that wants to do things with me or actively seeks me out. I have people I share Facebook comments with and they'll maybe text me every month and a half or so, and always at inconvenient times when I don't want to talk.
But then, I never want to talk at all, so what does it matter when they text me?
My entire life, I've had friend issues. I don't know why, because I've always tried to be nice. I've always been nice and friendly and shared my things and I've always tried - so - hard. And here I am again with nothing to show for everything I tried. They all said I was funny and would be so quick and happy to say hey when I showed up. Then they didn't care when schedules changed and nobody saw me ever, not their fault, but they didn't care. And I freaked out. I didn't mean to, but I did, I started panicking about being abandoned and forgotten again. I thought I had friends. I thought I had the best friend I'd ever had in my life. And I reached out to them all, but I reached out to her most. Over time I developed a giant crush on her, and I told her, and she was okay with it. Everything seemed fine. Nothing had changed. And I made it clear to her that I didn't want to date, I just thought she should know because I was tired of all but bursting every time I saw her you know, and she.
SHE.
She made it clear that night she didn't have interest in dating anyone in the first place. She referred back to the boy she'd dated for a long time and been broken up with for a really long time, and I was with another good friend at the time these texts were being exchanged and telling her what was going down, and she was able to tell me that yeah he was a creepo boyfriend.
I don't know if I pushed too hard. I don't know if I got too clingy. I don't know. But she said before the quarter ended she would be busy until after finals week, but she was clear we could hang out after that. And I tried. I mentioned it often, but not like every day often. I'd wait like a week in between. And she would ALWAYS be busy. Always. I was angry. She knew I was hurting, and she knew I hated it here, but I'll get into home life later, and I did let that seep into my replies and I know I wasn't exactly a cheer to talk to... but I was trying, and she was trying to get out of it. We were in the same group to see DH part 2, and she barely spoke to me, even when the only ones there were me, her, and her boyfriend. He barely spoke either, but he barely spoke to anyone that whole night either.
We haven't had contact since July 15th.
I've barely had contact with anyone else since then either.
Mom had her heard up her ass about FAFSA for three years and would never help me fill it out, would always start screaming about how Dad made too much money so we wouldn't get any help anyway, so we had to try to get another Sallie Mae student loan. No one up here would help me and cosign, and Dad didn't qualify. We tried to hide it from him. We asked my Aunt Stacy, but she was afraid to do it, and we didn't want to pressure her, and we didn't want the family secret... So I'm not taking classes, and we still don't have any confirmed financial aid. We got selected for verification, just a random thing, they're required to do a certain number of verifications just do to their jobs. Of course, it says please allow 2-4 weeks to actually CHECK OVER AND VERIFY OUR VERIFICATION FORMS so they've had them since October 17th. Four weeks is November 14th, and that's the fucking deadline. But it does say on my Student Center that all my info is in and I'm eligible in all the right places (that sounds terrible), so... well. /We/ did everything we were supposed to do and on time.
I just hope I can get money because we can't afford it, and I'm not sure anyone can take ten more weeks of me here as long as Katie is here too.
Which brings me to home life. Katie is a monster. She is. She has learned to use her size and strength to get what she wants. She will grab you by the wrist and force her bony little fingers in between your wrist bones and twist and squeeze so hard you cry out. She will pinch and squeeze, drag you along by two fingers and twist. It's not like she's doing it to purposely hurt you, she's not a sadist or something. She just.. knows. She knows hurt people and they will probably do what she wants, which while I admit is usually not very big, it is to me. Because I am her primary target 99% of the time. I can barely be downstairs without her all but attacking me every forty seconds wanting either a new dvd, even though I more than likely just changed it for her, or to forage in the fridge and pantry for food. Her OCD has gotten terrible. She gets convinced she HAS to have something new to watch, I don't think it's just to be bratty, I really think she gets herself into such a frenzy about it that she thinks she needs it, and she gets the same way about thinking she NEEDS to have food even if she just carries it around and drops it somewhere instead of eating it, and she gets the same way - about - that - stupid - fucking - golfcart.
The golfcart is the bane of my existence, and it has been since we ever got one. From the first fucking day, she was obsessed with it, and she has only gone downhill from there. She never wanted Mom. She only wanted me. She still only wants me. She doesn't like Mom because Mom is still bigger and stronger than she is, and Mom will push back, while I'm the little one. Mom won't take her crap. I can basically only scream at her to stop, and when I do manage to push her off me she laughs. But I digress--this golfcart. I just... I can't. I can't do it. She won't TRY to play with anything. She doesn't want to. She doesn't want to do anything when she can ride on that golfcart, as long as someone is there to drive her. And look who has to set aside whatever they're doing to do it because she won't - take - Mom.
And I get so tired of "aw she just loves you" crap. THAT IS NOT THE POINT. YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE I HAVE A LIFE. I WOULD LIKE TO /TRY/ TO HAVE A LIFE, EVEN IF IT REVOLVES AROUND BARRICADING MYSELF IN MY BEDROOM AND CLINGING TO MY LAPTOP. And petting Moses, our cat. Because Moses is pretty much the only friend off of the computer that I feel like I have.
I'm supposed to fill out about twenty pages worth of forms and send them into the Ohio Department of... something. Something with disabilities, and apply to be Katie's respite care worker. She has some kind of Medicaid waiver, and they keep throwing a fit and saying she could lose it because we don't utilize enough services. We only need it to help pay for her pills and incontinence supplies.
Speaking of her incontinence, every time I have to change her, like there is nobody on the entire property but me and here and I have to look at her fucking ass and clean her up pee or poop, I get worse and worse. I break the fuck down. I scream and I sob and the last three times I've come to my senses laying on the bathroom floor in a ball sobbing my eyes out with the door locked.
But back to the Medicaid waiver. Her case worker has been working her butt off for AGES trying to find anyone in the ENTIRE county willing to do it, and there is nobody. Nobody wants to take her on. Mom can't because she's the parent. Nobody else we know will do it because I don't have friends, MOM has even less chances than I do to have friends, and our relatives in this area--hah. So, oh look at that, who is the ONLY CHOICE WE HAVE? Me. Of course it's me. It's always me. It always comes down to whether I want to do what /I/ want, if I want to be selfish and do something for ME, or if I want to help my family because there is really nobody else who's going to help and if she loses that Medicaid we are fucked.
I want nothing more than to not have to do this but I don't really have a choice. I don't want to be her respite care worker at all. I don't want any of this, but it's not like anybody else does. It's not like Mom or Dad want Katie to be the way she is.
My laptop broke recently, the charger part. So I was without a laptop for two weeks and two days, and using the downstairs computer. Mom broke a tooth because in that time she clenched her jaw so hard part of a molar cracked off, because Katie wouldn't lay off and I just couldn't take it and screamed, every single day for sixteen days. I wasn't trying to be a brat, I wasn't trying to get out of helping, I just couldn't do it. If she touched me one more time I was going to snap, and so I snapped verbally first. When Mom went to the dentist to get a temporary crown put on, and it took her about two and a half hours at least, in that time Katie knocked over a jar of fall-colored M&MS while throwing a fit because I wasn't taking her outside fast enough, kicked me and pulled my hair repeatedly while I was trying to pick the M&Ms up, her usual arm pulling and whatnot, decided to start pulling me around my the collar of my hoodie outside, would not listen and kept running over to the creek and back by the barn where the farmers had combines and I'd have to go get her and fight with her to get her back to just the general yard area, and when I finally couldn't take it and had my breakdown inside, she pulled my hair some more while I was screaming and crying on the living room floor.
And I'm supposed to be her respite care worker. I'd get paid for it, sure, but... I can't do it. I cannot. I can barely stand to be around her. I love her, but sometimes I'm afraid that I resent her even more. And I do, because all I ever wanted as a child was somebody to play with when Mom wouldn't and Dad was driving truck. And I would always ask her when they were going to get a brother or sister for me. SO OF COURSE THEY WAITED UNTIL I WAS FUCKING /SEVEN YEARS OLD/. By the time she would've been old enough to play anything decent, I would've been on the verge of puberty and not wanted to play. Then she turned out this way anyway, and she ruined Mom's life, she's kept us permanently on one income, I've always been afraid to get a job or just not be home because /NOBODY IS GONNA HELP/ if Mom needs it. Our neighbors are shit and hate us anyway just because we're not hoity toity like they are. They think we're the hick renters down the road basically, and there's a field between us anyway, they won't come. Mom has NOBODY here in the middle of nowhere if she needs help. I have to stay here, I have to. And she's going to go crazy if I leave, I'm her reliable source of social activity. I have to stay here so she doesn't lose her mind and start talking to dolls or something.
Katie shouldn't be here. She should be.. I don't know, I don't claim to be an expert on places to send people like Katie, but I know there's a place in Toledo that DOES have people as severe as Katie there. Sunnyvale or something. She should be there. She shouldn't be here. Because she's not my kid. She's not my kid and I'm tired of having to take care of her like she is. Mom does most of it I know but it's not fair. I'm almost 21 and 1/2 years old and I've never had a job, I go a community college ("branch of Ohio State" my ass nobody gives a shit about that title, it's a community college when push comes to shove) because it's the best I can afford without getting myself into a mountain of student debt that my family CANNOT help me pay back, I don't have any friends, even if I DID I can't have them over because I am beyond embarrassed of our house and how everything just fucking radiates the smell of pee where she goes everywhere no matter how hard we try to keep things protected... I HAVE A CAT AND A LAPTOP. THAT IS WHAT I HAVE. And a tv with a DVR. That's important too. Nobody can take those away from me. I will bite their arms off if they try.
I will too.
What kills me is that Katie's teacher has been through this same thing. When she was... 12 maybe, her little brother, severe mental retardation, pushed her out of the car because he was mad about her being in the back seat. She was in the hospital for a long time and could've died obviously because uh hello pushed out of a moving car. She knows how bad it gets. She knows what it feels like for the sibling. And she has TOLD MY MOTHER that she knows I stay here because I feel obligated to help the family. She has TOLD Mom that I have issues that I don't talk about, because that's what siblings do, she's told Mom she knows, she's told Mom that of course it's up to the parents but nobody thinks about the siblings and how unfair it is to them.
And Mom downplayed every single word of it and just pretends everything is fucking fine all "oh not MY daughter." Yes Mom, your daughter. Your daughter hides in her room all the time and immerses herself in fictional characters because she can't stand to think about her own life anymore. Your daughter's best friend is her cat. Your daughter has been hurt one too many times by everyone she thought was her friend and has a mile-high wall around her now and has no interest in getting any other friends beyond her cat now because people suck and people will hurt you and leave you dying in the dust. Your daughter thinks about killing herself at least once a week but is too scared to do anything and does like living so it will never happen thank fucking goodness, but I do think about how easy it would be to just get away from all of this shit that seems like it's never going to let go of me and will be around for all of my life to bring me down and ruin everything I ever wanted to do. Because my sister - is always - hanging over my head like she's already MY responsibility. It is not my responsibility until our parents are dead. And they are very much not.
But. I do have a roof over my head, shoddy as it is. I do have internet. I do have a laptop. I do have a tv. I do have Dish Network. I do have good food. I do have domestic comforts that so many people around the world don't have. I'm actually ahead of schedule on my novel for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month though probably anyone reading this knows what that is though why would anyone read this far anyway, I wouldn't even if it wasn't me, I admit it). We're going to Savannah for Thanksgiving, even if I do have to put up with Dad and Katie in the car for all that time and we might only be there for three days which is stupid I think because Savannah is my most favorite place in the entire world and I want to live there and I probably never will because I won't be able to afford to move anywhere that isn't within half an hour of this stupid place--but we're going to visit at all so that's great. I have the most awesome cat in the world. My face is doing fantastic, it has never been this clear in my life. My weight's not really changing at all, but in spite of everything I can't stand about my life, as far as /myself/ goes and my body and things like that I'm pretty damn happy with myself. I couldn't care less about what people think I look like, except for being basically presentable with good hygiene and things like that, you know. I don't have a problem with myself at all. I have a problem with most of the world. But hey, if I can live with myself, then I think I'm good. And I can.
And I know my cat can.
Life has more or less royally sucked since the last time I updated. I wish I could start it off positively, and I suppose I could've, but might as well get the bad out first so I can end with the positive notes.
I have no friends. I don't know what I did, but I don't have them. I have nobody offline that wants to do things with me or actively seeks me out. I have people I share Facebook comments with and they'll maybe text me every month and a half or so, and always at inconvenient times when I don't want to talk.
But then, I never want to talk at all, so what does it matter when they text me?
My entire life, I've had friend issues. I don't know why, because I've always tried to be nice. I've always been nice and friendly and shared my things and I've always tried - so - hard. And here I am again with nothing to show for everything I tried. They all said I was funny and would be so quick and happy to say hey when I showed up. Then they didn't care when schedules changed and nobody saw me ever, not their fault, but they didn't care. And I freaked out. I didn't mean to, but I did, I started panicking about being abandoned and forgotten again. I thought I had friends. I thought I had the best friend I'd ever had in my life. And I reached out to them all, but I reached out to her most. Over time I developed a giant crush on her, and I told her, and she was okay with it. Everything seemed fine. Nothing had changed. And I made it clear to her that I didn't want to date, I just thought she should know because I was tired of all but bursting every time I saw her you know, and she.
SHE.
She made it clear that night she didn't have interest in dating anyone in the first place. She referred back to the boy she'd dated for a long time and been broken up with for a really long time, and I was with another good friend at the time these texts were being exchanged and telling her what was going down, and she was able to tell me that yeah he was a creepo boyfriend.
I don't know if I pushed too hard. I don't know if I got too clingy. I don't know. But she said before the quarter ended she would be busy until after finals week, but she was clear we could hang out after that. And I tried. I mentioned it often, but not like every day often. I'd wait like a week in between. And she would ALWAYS be busy. Always. I was angry. She knew I was hurting, and she knew I hated it here, but I'll get into home life later, and I did let that seep into my replies and I know I wasn't exactly a cheer to talk to... but I was trying, and she was trying to get out of it. We were in the same group to see DH part 2, and she barely spoke to me, even when the only ones there were me, her, and her boyfriend. He barely spoke either, but he barely spoke to anyone that whole night either.
We haven't had contact since July 15th.
I've barely had contact with anyone else since then either.
Mom had her heard up her ass about FAFSA for three years and would never help me fill it out, would always start screaming about how Dad made too much money so we wouldn't get any help anyway, so we had to try to get another Sallie Mae student loan. No one up here would help me and cosign, and Dad didn't qualify. We tried to hide it from him. We asked my Aunt Stacy, but she was afraid to do it, and we didn't want to pressure her, and we didn't want the family secret... So I'm not taking classes, and we still don't have any confirmed financial aid. We got selected for verification, just a random thing, they're required to do a certain number of verifications just do to their jobs. Of course, it says please allow 2-4 weeks to actually CHECK OVER AND VERIFY OUR VERIFICATION FORMS so they've had them since October 17th. Four weeks is November 14th, and that's the fucking deadline. But it does say on my Student Center that all my info is in and I'm eligible in all the right places (that sounds terrible), so... well. /We/ did everything we were supposed to do and on time.
I just hope I can get money because we can't afford it, and I'm not sure anyone can take ten more weeks of me here as long as Katie is here too.
Which brings me to home life. Katie is a monster. She is. She has learned to use her size and strength to get what she wants. She will grab you by the wrist and force her bony little fingers in between your wrist bones and twist and squeeze so hard you cry out. She will pinch and squeeze, drag you along by two fingers and twist. It's not like she's doing it to purposely hurt you, she's not a sadist or something. She just.. knows. She knows hurt people and they will probably do what she wants, which while I admit is usually not very big, it is to me. Because I am her primary target 99% of the time. I can barely be downstairs without her all but attacking me every forty seconds wanting either a new dvd, even though I more than likely just changed it for her, or to forage in the fridge and pantry for food. Her OCD has gotten terrible. She gets convinced she HAS to have something new to watch, I don't think it's just to be bratty, I really think she gets herself into such a frenzy about it that she thinks she needs it, and she gets the same way about thinking she NEEDS to have food even if she just carries it around and drops it somewhere instead of eating it, and she gets the same way - about - that - stupid - fucking - golfcart.
The golfcart is the bane of my existence, and it has been since we ever got one. From the first fucking day, she was obsessed with it, and she has only gone downhill from there. She never wanted Mom. She only wanted me. She still only wants me. She doesn't like Mom because Mom is still bigger and stronger than she is, and Mom will push back, while I'm the little one. Mom won't take her crap. I can basically only scream at her to stop, and when I do manage to push her off me she laughs. But I digress--this golfcart. I just... I can't. I can't do it. She won't TRY to play with anything. She doesn't want to. She doesn't want to do anything when she can ride on that golfcart, as long as someone is there to drive her. And look who has to set aside whatever they're doing to do it because she won't - take - Mom.
And I get so tired of "aw she just loves you" crap. THAT IS NOT THE POINT. YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE I HAVE A LIFE. I WOULD LIKE TO /TRY/ TO HAVE A LIFE, EVEN IF IT REVOLVES AROUND BARRICADING MYSELF IN MY BEDROOM AND CLINGING TO MY LAPTOP. And petting Moses, our cat. Because Moses is pretty much the only friend off of the computer that I feel like I have.
I'm supposed to fill out about twenty pages worth of forms and send them into the Ohio Department of... something. Something with disabilities, and apply to be Katie's respite care worker. She has some kind of Medicaid waiver, and they keep throwing a fit and saying she could lose it because we don't utilize enough services. We only need it to help pay for her pills and incontinence supplies.
Speaking of her incontinence, every time I have to change her, like there is nobody on the entire property but me and here and I have to look at her fucking ass and clean her up pee or poop, I get worse and worse. I break the fuck down. I scream and I sob and the last three times I've come to my senses laying on the bathroom floor in a ball sobbing my eyes out with the door locked.
But back to the Medicaid waiver. Her case worker has been working her butt off for AGES trying to find anyone in the ENTIRE county willing to do it, and there is nobody. Nobody wants to take her on. Mom can't because she's the parent. Nobody else we know will do it because I don't have friends, MOM has even less chances than I do to have friends, and our relatives in this area--hah. So, oh look at that, who is the ONLY CHOICE WE HAVE? Me. Of course it's me. It's always me. It always comes down to whether I want to do what /I/ want, if I want to be selfish and do something for ME, or if I want to help my family because there is really nobody else who's going to help and if she loses that Medicaid we are fucked.
I want nothing more than to not have to do this but I don't really have a choice. I don't want to be her respite care worker at all. I don't want any of this, but it's not like anybody else does. It's not like Mom or Dad want Katie to be the way she is.
My laptop broke recently, the charger part. So I was without a laptop for two weeks and two days, and using the downstairs computer. Mom broke a tooth because in that time she clenched her jaw so hard part of a molar cracked off, because Katie wouldn't lay off and I just couldn't take it and screamed, every single day for sixteen days. I wasn't trying to be a brat, I wasn't trying to get out of helping, I just couldn't do it. If she touched me one more time I was going to snap, and so I snapped verbally first. When Mom went to the dentist to get a temporary crown put on, and it took her about two and a half hours at least, in that time Katie knocked over a jar of fall-colored M&MS while throwing a fit because I wasn't taking her outside fast enough, kicked me and pulled my hair repeatedly while I was trying to pick the M&Ms up, her usual arm pulling and whatnot, decided to start pulling me around my the collar of my hoodie outside, would not listen and kept running over to the creek and back by the barn where the farmers had combines and I'd have to go get her and fight with her to get her back to just the general yard area, and when I finally couldn't take it and had my breakdown inside, she pulled my hair some more while I was screaming and crying on the living room floor.
And I'm supposed to be her respite care worker. I'd get paid for it, sure, but... I can't do it. I cannot. I can barely stand to be around her. I love her, but sometimes I'm afraid that I resent her even more. And I do, because all I ever wanted as a child was somebody to play with when Mom wouldn't and Dad was driving truck. And I would always ask her when they were going to get a brother or sister for me. SO OF COURSE THEY WAITED UNTIL I WAS FUCKING /SEVEN YEARS OLD/. By the time she would've been old enough to play anything decent, I would've been on the verge of puberty and not wanted to play. Then she turned out this way anyway, and she ruined Mom's life, she's kept us permanently on one income, I've always been afraid to get a job or just not be home because /NOBODY IS GONNA HELP/ if Mom needs it. Our neighbors are shit and hate us anyway just because we're not hoity toity like they are. They think we're the hick renters down the road basically, and there's a field between us anyway, they won't come. Mom has NOBODY here in the middle of nowhere if she needs help. I have to stay here, I have to. And she's going to go crazy if I leave, I'm her reliable source of social activity. I have to stay here so she doesn't lose her mind and start talking to dolls or something.
Katie shouldn't be here. She should be.. I don't know, I don't claim to be an expert on places to send people like Katie, but I know there's a place in Toledo that DOES have people as severe as Katie there. Sunnyvale or something. She should be there. She shouldn't be here. Because she's not my kid. She's not my kid and I'm tired of having to take care of her like she is. Mom does most of it I know but it's not fair. I'm almost 21 and 1/2 years old and I've never had a job, I go a community college ("branch of Ohio State" my ass nobody gives a shit about that title, it's a community college when push comes to shove) because it's the best I can afford without getting myself into a mountain of student debt that my family CANNOT help me pay back, I don't have any friends, even if I DID I can't have them over because I am beyond embarrassed of our house and how everything just fucking radiates the smell of pee where she goes everywhere no matter how hard we try to keep things protected... I HAVE A CAT AND A LAPTOP. THAT IS WHAT I HAVE. And a tv with a DVR. That's important too. Nobody can take those away from me. I will bite their arms off if they try.
I will too.
What kills me is that Katie's teacher has been through this same thing. When she was... 12 maybe, her little brother, severe mental retardation, pushed her out of the car because he was mad about her being in the back seat. She was in the hospital for a long time and could've died obviously because uh hello pushed out of a moving car. She knows how bad it gets. She knows what it feels like for the sibling. And she has TOLD MY MOTHER that she knows I stay here because I feel obligated to help the family. She has TOLD Mom that I have issues that I don't talk about, because that's what siblings do, she's told Mom she knows, she's told Mom that of course it's up to the parents but nobody thinks about the siblings and how unfair it is to them.
And Mom downplayed every single word of it and just pretends everything is fucking fine all "oh not MY daughter." Yes Mom, your daughter. Your daughter hides in her room all the time and immerses herself in fictional characters because she can't stand to think about her own life anymore. Your daughter's best friend is her cat. Your daughter has been hurt one too many times by everyone she thought was her friend and has a mile-high wall around her now and has no interest in getting any other friends beyond her cat now because people suck and people will hurt you and leave you dying in the dust. Your daughter thinks about killing herself at least once a week but is too scared to do anything and does like living so it will never happen thank fucking goodness, but I do think about how easy it would be to just get away from all of this shit that seems like it's never going to let go of me and will be around for all of my life to bring me down and ruin everything I ever wanted to do. Because my sister - is always - hanging over my head like she's already MY responsibility. It is not my responsibility until our parents are dead. And they are very much not.
But. I do have a roof over my head, shoddy as it is. I do have internet. I do have a laptop. I do have a tv. I do have Dish Network. I do have good food. I do have domestic comforts that so many people around the world don't have. I'm actually ahead of schedule on my novel for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month though probably anyone reading this knows what that is though why would anyone read this far anyway, I wouldn't even if it wasn't me, I admit it). We're going to Savannah for Thanksgiving, even if I do have to put up with Dad and Katie in the car for all that time and we might only be there for three days which is stupid I think because Savannah is my most favorite place in the entire world and I want to live there and I probably never will because I won't be able to afford to move anywhere that isn't within half an hour of this stupid place--but we're going to visit at all so that's great. I have the most awesome cat in the world. My face is doing fantastic, it has never been this clear in my life. My weight's not really changing at all, but in spite of everything I can't stand about my life, as far as /myself/ goes and my body and things like that I'm pretty damn happy with myself. I couldn't care less about what people think I look like, except for being basically presentable with good hygiene and things like that, you know. I don't have a problem with myself at all. I have a problem with most of the world. But hey, if I can live with myself, then I think I'm good. And I can.
And I know my cat can.