It’s been a year yesterday since Mom had her seizure. The good news, she hasn’t had another one. Reality, she could. I still don’t understand why it happened. What sort of life lesson was I supposed to learn? I don’t know, but I do know I still beat myself up for it. Yeah, yeah, I know, “you were just trying to help.” There are a bunch of what ifs that could have haunted me, and still might, had I not freaked out and gone to the hospital. I don’t care about that. I care about the fact that I sit in my bedroom and cry because I put yet another bill into my mother’s hands. Another bill that could have been avoided had I done what I knew I should have.
I cry because, on top of the hospital bill and the student load my mother didn’t want to sign because we knew I should have never gone to college, and of course, my own student loan, we won’t have enough money to pay our regular bills, eat, and get gas for the cars. All because of me.
Aside from the money, I have a hard time leaving her alone. I find myself waking up in the middle of the night making sure she’s still breathing. When I come home from work and I can’t find her, I imagine her laying on the floor somewhere. Can I find her? If not, when will I find her? Is she dead? I just heard a loud noise, has she fallen? Has she had another seizure? Will this one kill her? I have no idea what PTSD feels like, but I wonder if I have some mild, mild case of it. No offense to people with PTSD, I know you guys go through stuff much, much worse than what I do.
I screwed us. I screwed up our lives.
My mom can’t get a job. She goes to interviews, they talk to her like she has the job, we get home, and they never call her back.
I want to quit my job because of how much dishonesty, gossip, backstabbing, and hate there is. I keep hearing, “You find drama at every job.” False. I never had any of that at Dollar General. The only drama there was at that job, was when my manager asked me to be the key holder, and I thought I was a back up. I didn’t think she really wanted me, but she had to pick me. That wasn’t the case, she wanted me the whole time. I was just miserable and…well, I brought that upon myself. After that, I had a problem with the company itself, not with anyone who worked there.
It’s Winter, I think that’s why I’m so unhappy. As much as I love the snow, I hate the cold and the dullness and blah of the world. I want some color, and warmer weather.
And money. I hate depending on it, but it’s a necessity. And I hate it. I want to punch money in its face.
After I pay off my loans and bills and whatever else that’s hanging over my head.
Good night! Good morning! Good everything (I hope!)