One of the problems with being me is that I can see both sides of an issue, and therefore I have a hard time convincing myself that what people say to me is really, truly all they want to say. It may well be related to feeling more than one emotion at a time, or it might have to do with living in my parents' house since February. (My parents' general attitudes is, summarily, that everyone in the world is out to shit on them, and they always see the bad in people before the good. More on that later.)
This comes into play because Bailey had some accidents while she was at my boyfriend's aunt's house, and she also showed signs of suffering from separation anxiety, much to the chagrin and dismay of all the house's occupants.
My boyfriend's aunt, uncle, and cousin all showed remarkable propriety in the matter, brushing it off as "well, she needs to learn" and "she's still just a puppy." I think the truth lies heavily on this one: "A week was probably just too long for her first trip away from home." At least she didn't chew on anything that she wasn't supposed to or come into heat while we were there. (And I'm certainly thankful that 95% of her bathroom needs were taken care of outside. I wish it were more, but the past cannot be erased.)
While my auntish, uncle-ish, and cousinish all seemed to be understanding about everything, I can't help but feel that they wanted to admonish me or that they are hiding the true way that they felt (and feel). I mean, it wasn't that horrible of a trip. Like I said, Bailey didn't chew on everything --all the pillows were still in tact and there were no teeth marks on any furniture when we left-- and she didn't piddle or poo in the floor all the time. It was a matter of restricting the space available to her via baby gates and my boyfriend and I restricting the amount of time we were away from the house. (That little girl can yip, and with an octave or so range of vocal movement!)
All of that aside, I am glad that I got to see my boyfriend and spend some time with him. I am glad that I got to explore some new parts of Denver. I am glad that my boyfriend was able to log some quality time with Bailey.
I do not, however, feel more relaxed. I was, apparently, more relaxed than I would have been at home, because I've been home for nine hours and already I am more tense than I have been in a week.
My mother never did greet me when I came home. She took one look at Bailey and said, "She looks skinny." (She's been eating a bowlful of food, twice a day, every day, for the last seven days, as well as getting a Dentastix and a puppy Milkbone once a day and a couple pieces of table scraps after dinner.)
My father has aptly displayed his inability to pay attention during a conversation on more than one occasion.
One of the first things that happened is they took offense to the fact that my boyfriend was out buying pizza when they got home. "What -- the leftovers aren't good enough?" I explained that he was buying the pizza at my behest, since I've had a jonesing for it all week. That quickly made them drop it.
There are some arguments in the family that loop and are continually self-feeding. The largest one I can think of is anything that deals with my uncle. Why doesn't he do more to help at his mother's house? | He wants a ride to
I am, honestly, wondering what the hell I'm going to do.
People asked me last weekend at my graduation barbecue what I was going to do. Well, in response to that, I have applied at State Farm to be a Claims Processor. I figure that it will be an easily transferable job, whenever the opportunity presents itself.
I was asked at dinner on Thursday if I have filled out my application for Metro State [College of Denver] yet, since that's where I intend[ed] on going to get my Bachelor's degree. It's not due until June, so I have not filled it out yet, but another problem arises there, too: what if I do fill it out and get accepted to start attending classes in August? Even if MSCD were a residential college, I'd be too old to live on campus, so where would I stay? How would I afford an apartment? I don't even have a car to take to Denver with me. (The one I drive now is my mother's car, which might be surrendered soon since her seasonal job is almost over and we have no other way to afford the monthly payments.)
And (!) the subject of my grandmother's ever-increasing need for long-term care was brought up again tonight. My uncle doesn't work. (I have talked of this bit before, but I will repeat it for a refresher.) He is my grandmother's favorite offspring: always has been, always will be. Every morning he takes her newspaper in to her and has a cup or two of coffee with her, goes over his day, and then leaves. The care of her breakfast (and other meals), housework, and yardwork all fall on her own shoulders, for as much as she can handle. And let me say, for an 80 year old woman with macular degeneration and a bad back, that isn't much. What about my mom? My mom -- the independent, youngest child of three -- is the only other surviving offspring my grandmother has. Mom currently works, but her seasonal job ends on Thursday. She tries to go over every day and spend time with my grandma, but that doesn't always happen: some days she is reduced only to talking on the phone. My father, by the way, is not supportive of this and believes that my mother should be here, attending to the needs of her own house and that my uncle should be at my grandmother's house, taking care of his mother. The last few months, my grandmother's mental faculties have declined. She's remembering less and less, and having minor hallucinations more and more. Mom was going around the house fretting, to herself, this evening about how grandma's going to need full-time care, and soon, and where would that leave her? Some readers may recall from a few weeks ago that I said, in a burst of emotive frustration, that I was the only answer to anything being done about it. My uncle won't do it: he's got too much of a social life. My mother can't do it: she needs to work to keep the bills floating along. And me? I'm done with school now, with no real sense of purpose or direction, so it makes, sense, right? Except I've been slowly stepping away from that role since October to prepare my uncle and my mom for this...except I have a puppy now...except what if Denver suddenly becomes viable and I'm in the middle of living with grandma... Government aid, by the way, is not an option, and she refuses to go into an assisted living or a nursing home. (The latter of which she is nowhere near physically ready for anyway.) I feel as though living with gran is the direction that people are pushing me to go, but they don't want to come right out and say it. They'd rather hee and haw around the bush, and say, "No, that wouldn't be fair to you" than actually sigh with relief and say, "Finally! She got it!"
This may sound heartless, but I just don't want to deal with any of this, at this proximity, anymore. I don't want the drama and the bitterness. It's permeating my life, and my soul. My boyfriend told me that his aunt's house is so full of love, and while I saw it and experienced it over the last week, I have been so marred over the last few months that I could not feel it. I could not feel anything but differing degrees of guilt, responsibility, and regret, in many different areas. It's been that way for a while now. I can't pinpoint exactly how long, but I think I have been depressed for a while --honestly, Bailey saved my life one afternoon a few weeks ago-- but this dead space inside kinda confirms it. The bad feelings are easily felt, and I can laugh, but happiness, contentment, joy -- these are fleeting.
If I go to work, my energy level will drop to a zero or lower; it's already dangerously low. (Hooray for a messed up hormone system! Hooray for a messed up metabolism because the hormones are out of whack! Yippee!) Having no energy when coming home from work is a bad thing when a puppy needs walked and played with. Couple that with the desired end-result of moving, and packing throws the energy deficit further into the red.
If I don't go to work, what the hell else would I do? Read? Yeah, that's gonna pay for the $17 puppy kibble bags. My friend and I are nearing the final stages of launching our wedding photography business, and hopefully we'll book more weddings and events over the next few months.
But, if I were to forego looking for work and move in with my grandma in work's stead, what would happen? How long would I be living there? Until her Alzheimer's gets to the point that she cannot care for herself any longer, or until she dies? And then what? If the house is willed to go my uncle, but I'm living there at the time of gran's passing, would he be understanding and give me time to find alternate housing or would he do what he did when he came back from jail and claim what's rightfully his at such a time as he so declares? I do agree, however, that it would not be fair to me. See, my mother lived with her grandmother when requisite time came, and she stayed til the end. My mother, however, was 16 at the time, still in high school, with no real future waiting on the line. I am going to be 27 in a few weeks, a Spring 2012 college graduate, with a future waiting for me to grasp it. I could have a place of my own and re-develop some self pride.
Or with any luck my boyfriend has filled out an application to a job that wants to hire him so bad the manager is salivating at the thought of paying him $2000 a month.
I hate to say it, but given my boyfriend's track record, I don't hold out much hope for that last one, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to just face this decision head on.
Seriously, I hate my life right now.
At least the drain problem was fixed while I was gone, so I can shower now without having water standing at my feet. (I think the basin still leaks, though, so that's a problem.) And we still have the issue of having to flip a breaker to allow water into the house. Oh joy.
...and I'm still not unpacked from moving back home three months ago. Guess I know how to spend some of my time between job hunts, eh?
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