Update
Wow, haven't touched this thing in forever. Guess I'm going to do a long TL;DR update. Feel free to skip it over or just read the bulleted parts.
- Got a job at a Psychic place being a customer service person. (Last June)
- Put self through school, obviously.
- Loved Psych courses. Hated Math. Also no surprise.
- Got new laptop.
- Got into a car accident in early January.
- Applied for second job.
- Found out about family's debt and Dad's alcoholism.
- Got second job.
- Quit first job.
- Got sick and went to hospital.
- Second job let me go because I was out of work too long.
- Dog had to be put down.
I suppose I'll only go into detail on a few of these things.
My dad revealed to our family that several years ago, he took out a huge loan and invested it in a start-up company and everything went well for a few years. Then one of the owners died and the company sank, so my dad has been in debt. He owes about...$30,000? Something like that. And until he lost his job last year because of the economy, he could pay it off slowly. But then he had to settle for a lesser job and can really only afford my mother's medical bills. So he resorted to drinking.
Now, my mother drinks with her meds all the time. She has a glass of wine ready at 10am and she'll drink well into the night until about...9pm, when she has a Virgin Bloody Mary. So when she found out about my father, she was upset with him. Hypocrite. So now their marriage is on the rocks. My dad and I have sort of discussed how he sees me going down the same path as him (overworking, overstressed, hiding it, being too responsible for everyone else, worrying about everyone's health/finances) and so he thinks I'll be an alcoholic next.
If it's not depression, is alcoholism. And if it's none of that, then it's dementia or health troubles. Watch it be dementia; the irony of writing a novel with the same name and then getting the disease would baffle me.
Anywho. I got a job at a small residency home for people with mental disorders. I then quit NuView because they were firing a dyslexic girl because she couldn't edit articles properly. Now, the funny thing: article editing was not in the job description. And she told them she was dyslexic when they hired her. So...she's being fired for something she wasn't hired to do, plus because of a disability. So I quit.
I then got sick. REALLY SICK. I was in pain all the time, I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep... I called out of work twice and then trucked through it twice because I couldn't afford to be sick. But then I woke up one morning with so much pain that I was sobbing uncontrollably. I went to the Emergency Room and they told me I had this bacteria that was producing so much acid that it was eroding my stomach. So they kept me in the ER and tried to help calm everything and then they sent me home to recuperate.
I'm technically still on "recuperating" time. But two weeks ago, my second job let me go because I was always sick. They never saw the ER bill or the ER diagnosis. Woo.
And last, and definitely not least... My beagle Max had to be put down.
Now, let me tell you the story about that.
Max has had tumors for almost a year now all over his body. It was just a matter of time but he was happy and he could breathe, eat, and pee, so...no problem! Last week, I heard he'd been having trouble keeping himself from peeing everywhere. I told my parents (as I've told them for 2 solid months now): "If anything happens to him, call me."
Tuesday night rolls around, about...6:45pm. My mom calls to tell me that the dog's been taken to be put down. Dad left 40 minutes prior so I wouldn't be able to catch them. The facts, as she told me:
- He might have had a seizure that morning.
- By 4pm, she had to help him down the steps.
- By 4:30, she called my father about this.
- He started having trouble walking and then kind of...flopped and didn't get up.
- He was in NO PAIN; he was wagging his tail happily when Dad walked in the door at 6pm. He was, however, upset that he couldn't get up.
- By 6:10, they were in the car and driving to the vet's.
Now, look at those facts.
Did it ever occur to anyone that maybe I should have been called? There was an hour and a half of time there when someone could have called!
"Well, what if we called you and nothing was really wrong?" Uh, no. Obviously something WAS wrong. They even told me, weeks ago, that they wouldn't pay for any surgeries or stuff like that. He'd just go under. He's an old dog and he has AT LEAST 10 tumors on his body. And I knew they would euthanize him. It was the right way to go.
...I just wanted to be there. I just wanted to be holding him and singing to him so he wasn't afraid. He's a shelter dog; when we brought him home, I held him in my arms and sang to him and that was his only way of calming down for weeks. I was his mother and I wanted to be there for him. I wanted to be the last thing he saw so he wouldn't be afraid of what was happening.
And that didn't happen. I wasn't there. And my dad had to be alone with him when it happened, and he loved that dog too. I wanted to be there for HIM, too.
He said Max fell asleep in his arms and that's the best alternate there is.
I'm still broken up and upset. To top it all off, my sister calls and jumps down my throat about how terrible I am for being upset at my mother for not telling me sooner. She tells me I'm insensitive and ungrateful. She told me I should have come over after I found out BUT HE WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN THERE. I'd be in the car, sobbing, and would probably get into a car accident.
So now I'm left jobless, dogless, and I feel like my life's one big fucking joke to people. I feel like I have no reason to get up in the morning any longer. My dad's in debt and everyone's blaming my schooling for it - even though he promised to pay for my Bachelor's work like he did to my sister - and so I feel like the biggest fucking letdown in the history of the world. What's the point anymore? What's the point of me anymore?
I don't even know how I stand looking at myself in the mirror anymore. How am I supposed to know how to deal with going to my parents' house every weekend to find HE'S NOT THERE? How am I even supposed to get up in the fucking morning?
I feel so lost and empty. And I have no one to go to who can help me. Everyone just says they're sorry. I'm grateful to the sympathy. I am. But no one's helped. No one listened when I vented about this yesterday except one person. How fucking sad is that?
To top it off, I heard people are talking behind my back again! Just swell, right?
Seriously, folks. What's the point anymore? Why even bother?
- Got a job at a Psychic place being a customer service person. (Last June)
- Put self through school, obviously.
- Loved Psych courses. Hated Math. Also no surprise.
- Got new laptop.
- Got into a car accident in early January.
- Applied for second job.
- Found out about family's debt and Dad's alcoholism.
- Got second job.
- Quit first job.
- Got sick and went to hospital.
- Second job let me go because I was out of work too long.
- Dog had to be put down.
I suppose I'll only go into detail on a few of these things.
My dad revealed to our family that several years ago, he took out a huge loan and invested it in a start-up company and everything went well for a few years. Then one of the owners died and the company sank, so my dad has been in debt. He owes about...$30,000? Something like that. And until he lost his job last year because of the economy, he could pay it off slowly. But then he had to settle for a lesser job and can really only afford my mother's medical bills. So he resorted to drinking.
Now, my mother drinks with her meds all the time. She has a glass of wine ready at 10am and she'll drink well into the night until about...9pm, when she has a Virgin Bloody Mary. So when she found out about my father, she was upset with him. Hypocrite. So now their marriage is on the rocks. My dad and I have sort of discussed how he sees me going down the same path as him (overworking, overstressed, hiding it, being too responsible for everyone else, worrying about everyone's health/finances) and so he thinks I'll be an alcoholic next.
If it's not depression, is alcoholism. And if it's none of that, then it's dementia or health troubles. Watch it be dementia; the irony of writing a novel with the same name and then getting the disease would baffle me.
Anywho. I got a job at a small residency home for people with mental disorders. I then quit NuView because they were firing a dyslexic girl because she couldn't edit articles properly. Now, the funny thing: article editing was not in the job description. And she told them she was dyslexic when they hired her. So...she's being fired for something she wasn't hired to do, plus because of a disability. So I quit.
I then got sick. REALLY SICK. I was in pain all the time, I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep... I called out of work twice and then trucked through it twice because I couldn't afford to be sick. But then I woke up one morning with so much pain that I was sobbing uncontrollably. I went to the Emergency Room and they told me I had this bacteria that was producing so much acid that it was eroding my stomach. So they kept me in the ER and tried to help calm everything and then they sent me home to recuperate.
I'm technically still on "recuperating" time. But two weeks ago, my second job let me go because I was always sick. They never saw the ER bill or the ER diagnosis. Woo.
And last, and definitely not least... My beagle Max had to be put down.
Now, let me tell you the story about that.
Max has had tumors for almost a year now all over his body. It was just a matter of time but he was happy and he could breathe, eat, and pee, so...no problem! Last week, I heard he'd been having trouble keeping himself from peeing everywhere. I told my parents (as I've told them for 2 solid months now): "If anything happens to him, call me."
Tuesday night rolls around, about...6:45pm. My mom calls to tell me that the dog's been taken to be put down. Dad left 40 minutes prior so I wouldn't be able to catch them. The facts, as she told me:
- He might have had a seizure that morning.
- By 4pm, she had to help him down the steps.
- By 4:30, she called my father about this.
- He started having trouble walking and then kind of...flopped and didn't get up.
- He was in NO PAIN; he was wagging his tail happily when Dad walked in the door at 6pm. He was, however, upset that he couldn't get up.
- By 6:10, they were in the car and driving to the vet's.
Now, look at those facts.
Did it ever occur to anyone that maybe I should have been called? There was an hour and a half of time there when someone could have called!
"Well, what if we called you and nothing was really wrong?" Uh, no. Obviously something WAS wrong. They even told me, weeks ago, that they wouldn't pay for any surgeries or stuff like that. He'd just go under. He's an old dog and he has AT LEAST 10 tumors on his body. And I knew they would euthanize him. It was the right way to go.
...I just wanted to be there. I just wanted to be holding him and singing to him so he wasn't afraid. He's a shelter dog; when we brought him home, I held him in my arms and sang to him and that was his only way of calming down for weeks. I was his mother and I wanted to be there for him. I wanted to be the last thing he saw so he wouldn't be afraid of what was happening.
And that didn't happen. I wasn't there. And my dad had to be alone with him when it happened, and he loved that dog too. I wanted to be there for HIM, too.
He said Max fell asleep in his arms and that's the best alternate there is.
I'm still broken up and upset. To top it all off, my sister calls and jumps down my throat about how terrible I am for being upset at my mother for not telling me sooner. She tells me I'm insensitive and ungrateful. She told me I should have come over after I found out BUT HE WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN THERE. I'd be in the car, sobbing, and would probably get into a car accident.
So now I'm left jobless, dogless, and I feel like my life's one big fucking joke to people. I feel like I have no reason to get up in the morning any longer. My dad's in debt and everyone's blaming my schooling for it - even though he promised to pay for my Bachelor's work like he did to my sister - and so I feel like the biggest fucking letdown in the history of the world. What's the point anymore? What's the point of me anymore?
I don't even know how I stand looking at myself in the mirror anymore. How am I supposed to know how to deal with going to my parents' house every weekend to find HE'S NOT THERE? How am I even supposed to get up in the fucking morning?
I feel so lost and empty. And I have no one to go to who can help me. Everyone just says they're sorry. I'm grateful to the sympathy. I am. But no one's helped. No one listened when I vented about this yesterday except one person. How fucking sad is that?
To top it off, I heard people are talking behind my back again! Just swell, right?
Seriously, folks. What's the point anymore? Why even bother?