I want to write about something else a bit today. Lately I have not wanted to speak much on many issues. I feel like instead of turning mid-twenties as I did this week, I feel like I am at the end point in my life instead.
I feel both elated for the people I love and terribly bitter at my own fate and life. I hate hearing the voice inside my head saying "I told you so!". Bothers me.
Despite attempts when I was younger it seems I do not and will not have an "ordinary" life. There are many moments of happy calm and stability, but then there are those deep seated moments and days of terror, the dark long nights of tears for fear of a lack of tomorrow, the amazing feeling of just existing with another human being. There are constant stresses and worries. I am torn in so many directions so often I keep losing track of my own self.
Humans all define their own happiness- mostly based on their social construct, but also upon personal tastes. I often wonder at night when perhaps I should be sleep about my own happiness and what will become of me after he dies.
I feel so used most of the time. Used up. The people I associated as friends have mostly abandoned me. The friends who stayed to support Wash took me in. It seems... imbalanced to me how people treat the ill person and their caregiver. Sometimes people offer to "help". That is true. Generically. It is left up to me to separate tasks, assign them, follow up, double check, verify, confirm... it's easier for me to just attempt to do everything and burn myself out than it is to try and figure out how to explain and assign the help I need.
I wish someone would offer to help with laundry. Even just folding clothes.
Or making us a meal once a week. With regularity and reliability. Someone to take Wash out for a few hours once a week so I can have a break.
Someone to offer to pick up his meds so I don't have to make a trip to the Pharm every 3 days, or week, or every day. Someone to specifically say "Hey let's take care of all the bills!".
But those people are absent from my life. I have to find the tasks, and then people who are willing to do it, and ask them, and then hope that not only will they follow through and help, but that it doesn't come at too much of a cost to me. So far it seems like much of 'help' offered comes with some attachment.
Why does it take more work and responsibility on my part to allow for someone to try and make it less? I just don't get it.
I don't understand people. I don't understand relationships.
There just are not enough descriptive words to express it all.
I feel like it was my 64th birthday this year.
What is the Meaning Of Life?
- I get it now. It's a very good "haha joke is on you" answer.