If it’s not one thing, it’s another.
And things were going so well. Kevin’s mostly happy with his job (despite not getting paid what he’s worth, and while it’s usually true that no one does, most people aren’t making 20% below the minimum of their pay grade EITHER, so Dendrite can fuck me – and frequently does.) But hey, at least he’s happy.
We’ve finally found out what was causing our nephew, Mike, to try to kill himself, and with a cause, they can actually work on fixing it, and he’s doing loads better. That’s good.
Kevin and I don’t currently owe money to anyone. We’re caught up on bills and we’re actually able to put a little money aside in savings.
I’m almost done with my dentist appointments. I have 2 in January to get my last two crowns fitted, and then I’ll be finally done with that. Huzzah.
My mother has breast cancer.
Why is there never anything helpful to say about these sorts of things. “Sorry you’re sick. Hope you don’t die.” “Hmmm, can I have all your stuff when you’re dead?” It sucks that I sit there on the phone, gaping and just having no idea what to say. Maybe they should teach a college course on “shit to say that doesn’t sound completely stupid in the face of a tragedy.” I know I should have signed up for it.
Yes, they caught it early. Yes, breast cancer is survivable. Yes, it’s still one of the leading killers of women in the United States. I know all this. I knew it even before she told me she had it.
And people keep asking me “If there’s anything I can do…” and there’s a bitter, nasty part of me that wants to scream at them… “What the FUCK do you think you can do? Because, really, if you’re sitting on the cure for cancer just so you can offer it to me at a convenient time, you’re a real jackass.” I don’t say that, though, because it’s rude. And I do know that people love me and care, and they wish there was something they could do. And I’m not even mad at them, I’m just mad at the situation. Still… “What the fuck, man, what the fuck. No, there’s nothing you can DO. There’s nothing I can do. We have to just hope that there’s something the goddamn doctor can do aside from sending my mom a BIG HUGE bill.”
Ditto, I’m mad at my mom. One of the first things she said to me was “Don’t tell your dad, ok?” Oh for fuck’s sake woman. Look, I know she’s vain and self-centered from time to time, but jesus h christ, get a stepladder and get the fuck over it already. She’s been divorced for fifteen YEARS. It’s about time that she stop giving a royal FUCK what he thinks. What does she think he’s gonna do, anyway? Gloat? My dad may not have been the most wonderful husband on the planet, but jesus, he’s not like that. And even if he used to be, he’s not anymore.
I feel sort of alone in this… my friends don’t really like my mom much. She’s sort of neurotic and immature. I don’t have any family support in this; I’ve disowned (and been disowned by) most of my aunts and cousins and the like. It might be nice to talk to someone else who actually cares about my mom, you know? My friends care about me, and believe me, I appreciate that. But they don’t generally care about my MOM. That’s ok, and I don’t blame them for it, but gods, I do wish I had someone to talk to who does care about her.
I can’t decide if the timing of the rest of my life is good, or bad. I have Jess’s birthday party this weekend, and Liz’s baby shower next weekend, and I still have a ton of stuff to do, so I’m staying really busy. But I’m also having a lot of trouble focusing on the tasks at hand. I stood there blankly at the bank the other day for like ten minutes with my mouth open, disconcerting the teller, while I tried to remember why I’d gone there in the first place. (To get quarters.)
I dunno. I hate feeling lost and useless like this.
And I don’t know what to do.