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dope sick
This summer I was supposed to be visiting my Mom and Dad at their house, alive and as well as can be. Last summer I told my husband that even if I had to go alone on the bus, I was going to make this happen before my parents died.
.
.
.
.
I'm not supposed to be visiting their grave and going through their lifetime of collected possessions.
And it makes me heartbroken.
Heartbroken.
That's the only way I can describe it. I've only felt this way twice before:
1. When my first love canceled our date so he could go out with some other girl he hadn't even met yet.
2. The first time I found out my husband (then boyfriend) fucked another girl.
And now
3. Not getting to know my mom and dad as adults.
It doesn't really seem to fit in there, but love is love, I guess. It's the only times I can remember there actually being pain in my heart. So I'll go with calling it heartbroken.
(You'd think there'd be something about my Muse in there, but I don't think I loved him, and I knew it was doomed from day one.)
...Even though it was shit that my mom was dead, it was still really great to see my dad. It had been too long, and I didn't fully realize it until it was too late. It was stressful, but I am thankful that I got to see him one last time. And I think I really did help him feel better.
...And even though I had to go to funerals, it was better than being at work at the hotel.
That's so fucked. That I would rather be at a family funeral than at my job. No wonder I lost my mind. I have no idea why I put up with that shit job as long as I did.
That old saying, hindsight is 20/20. Yup.
My husband said that the only reason I wasn't able to quit drinking was because the job as a maid destroyed my self esteem and the word “can't” got into my vocabulary. As in, “I can't stop drinking.” He kept telling me that I was stronger than that and if I tried harder I would be able to quit.
Yes, he actually said that to me. What a dick.
Well, I guess he's right, but it's a nice way for him to negate any support he might have ever given me, and take any responsibility off himself as to why I continued to drink for YEARS after I knew I needed to quit and wanted to quit. He's still drinking. It's not helping me at all. But I'm making it through somehow. I just gave up looking for help. I gave up that anyone gave a shit about me after my mom and dad died.
I got the green light from youngest brother to go down to Iowa and start clearing out the old house. He isn't one who would ask for help even if his arms and legs were both chopped off, but I could tell from the wording of his last email that he is stressed and needs help. He's been doing everything in regards to taking care of my parent's estate alone, and it's too much for one person.
I think I will head down there next week. Try to make it down before the Mercury retrograde and after the solar eclipse on the 12th.
I was supposed to be down there this summer, anyway, only it's just not exactly the kind of vacation I had hoped for. Maybe having time alone will be good for me. I'll be stuck in that house alone most of the time. I can just focus on the work that needs to be done. Maybe go out for coffee or lunch with my friend I've known since 4th grade once. Take a walk in the old hood. Look for the woodchuck my dad said lives in the alley behind the house.
My birthday is on Wednesday. The first one without mom and dad. They always remembered to send me at least a card, if not a check and some online greeting as well. Sometimes they were the only people who did anything for me at all.
This year, in August, will be my youngest brother's 50th birthday. I already bought him a vintage locket off eBay. It's got a brass Scottish Thistle on it, which I think he will like. He's totally into the whole Scottish heritage thing. He's got our tartan (family) kilt and the whole get up and lots of scary swords. He's been to Scotland several times, and I think if he could, he would retire there.
See, now I'm just rambling. Avoiding work. I've been trying to clean up this house, get things out of the house with Craigslist curb alerts.
Possessions. Things that posses you. The things you own, end up owning you? Or, maybe they just crush you under a big pile because you're so much of a hoarder.
Can't let it get to that point.
No point at all for any of this.
4:32 PM - Monday, Jul. 09, 2018
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