(no subject)
Oct. 30th, 2002 10:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dewingedI'm going to bed early. I'm tired. It happens. I just feel like I can't win lately, and that I'm being...pushed. Work, I feel like all I do is get yelled at, just for doing my job. Then, because Mom has officially Stopped Cooking Forever, I end up having to pick up dinner for the night, with no compensation moneywise, even if she promises. She bleeds me dry each day, and doesn't care.
The doctors talked to my mom. Grandma...has about two months. Maybe. She's sore all over, and when the aides try to move her, she screams because it's all pain to her. It hurts, because I'm so useless I can do nothing.
And, Mom's sure someone bought the house, which technically gives us 60 days to move out. Not that anyone's gone to look for places to live, lately, or anything.
It hurts all over, now, especially since I'm dealing with a lot of uncertainty and fear in my life that prevents me from voicing myself, or what I want and need. In one part, I'm so terrified, even with all the assurances that I should not be. I shouldn't hurt over that, but I do because so many feelings are intertwined in it, and leaving myself open for someone to stick the knife in again...
When did it stop being fun? When did living become just another chore?
The doctors talked to my mom. Grandma...has about two months. Maybe. She's sore all over, and when the aides try to move her, she screams because it's all pain to her. It hurts, because I'm so useless I can do nothing.
And, Mom's sure someone bought the house, which technically gives us 60 days to move out. Not that anyone's gone to look for places to live, lately, or anything.
It hurts all over, now, especially since I'm dealing with a lot of uncertainty and fear in my life that prevents me from voicing myself, or what I want and need. In one part, I'm so terrified, even with all the assurances that I should not be. I shouldn't hurt over that, but I do because so many feelings are intertwined in it, and leaving myself open for someone to stick the knife in again...
When did it stop being fun? When did living become just another chore?