Here It Goes Again.

My boyfriend is in the hospital. Again. This is the second time in the past week he has been incapacitated. Again, I am terrified, for no real reason. His condition is not life-threatening at this point, and he is where he can best be helped. Yet I am still unable to sleep yet again, and eating is a far more complicated thing than it needs to be. But, I digress. I will start at the beginning and work my way forward.

When his mom first gave him my number, he did not call me straight away. He was admitted to the hospital before he had the chance for intense pain in his abdomen. He was "violently ejecting everything from both ends." They just gave him some pain meds at this point and sent him home, citing indigestion as the problem. I did not hear from him for nearly a month after that. Last Saturday I ended up having to work instead of going to hang out with him right away. I was expecting a phone call around 11:30, after he gets off work as is usual. Standing in my kitchen at 8:30, my phone vibrates and screams at me, and it is him on the other end. I made a joke about him calling me early and he made a weak joke about it being bed-time, moving onward to ask me inane questions about how my day went, completely ignoring me when I shot questions back to him. I, of course, made a comment with a giggle about him ignoring me. He responded with a stutter and weak explanation. He was in the ER, the pain he had before we met was back.

He was admitted that night, and an MRI on Monday revealed gallstones to be the culprit. Some of them having migrated to the bileduct, they put him under for an endoscopic procedure to remove those before a complete gallbladder removal on Tuesday. One, however, was left behind with a shunt. It had become embedded, and there was too much swelling and infection to do anything about it at that point. Tuesday they did end up removing the gallbladder, and said that 3/4 of the organ was stone, and it was infected nearly to the point of gangrene. How he did not feel this, everyone is mystified. Regardless, he was allowed to leave Thursday.

I was with him every moment I could be Thursday and Friday, and he was getting better rapidly. I was sure he was on the mend. I had to work Saturday, and by the time I got home and called him, he was in the ER again and in rather copious amounts of pain. He asked me to come see him. When I got there, he was alone, and seemed fairly well. In pain, yes, but he was dealing with it. He was happy to see me. The doctor came in and was talking to him about the issues, asking questions about the pain. She laid him down to feel his abdomen, and sat him back up as she left. You could see it on his face. It was all over. From that point on, all he could do was lay there, sweating and shaking, blinking his eyes open to frown at me every once in a while. There were tests, and a liter of liquid to dump down his throat. He cried and grunted at times, but for the most part he was silent and sweating. The pain meds they gave him barely helped at all, and by the time he was admitted and I left, he was pale and silent.

As it turns out, the shunt had slipped, blocking the bileduct and building pressure once again. All I want to do is scream at the doctors, to help him feel better. But, they are doing the best they can do, and there is nothing I can do to change that, or to help him. I hate this. I just want him better, I want things to go back to normal. But, that is life, I suppose. Things rarely go the way we want them to, and there is not a damn thing anyone can do about it. At least he won't die. I just want him to be better right now.

The next time I see him half naked and sweating it had better be a good thing.

So, it is now February. The month is winding down. I've gone through one boyfriend, and am stuck on the second in the span of a month and a half. Yes, two. I'm a slut. The second, though, is online again, and will not last long. He's not quite what I'm looking for in another human being. He seems to embody all the bad parts about my father, and doesn't really have the good parts to make up for it.

Y'know, so much is going on, and I can't even begin to know how to word it all. I sit down to write, and all I get are snippets of non-coherent thought, even during stories. My brain is moving too fast...or maybe too slow. I don't know. All I know is I want it over and done with.

Guilt and Beginnings

It started days ago. It started this morning. It started one year, many years ago. The point is, it started.

Today I awoke bright and early at the strike of nine, staring at the gloomy sliver of sky I can see through my bedroom window from beneath covers weighing me to the mattress so lovingly situated directly on the carpeted floor. I woke, albeit sore and worried, with a certain hope for the day. Today was Christmas shopping day. Today might be all right. I rolled out of bed (eventually) and stumbled dizzily to the living room, flipping open my laptop and attacking my normal morning internet routine with fervor.

There were comics and e-mails to check. There was stuff to be done before I had to leave and begin hunting for Christmas goodies. Lo and behold, my kangaroo, my Popeye, my favorite person, was online. The conversation began innocently, as usual. Things were entertaining. I even got him to agree to allow me to buy and send him a Christmas present, as we talked and joked. As usual. But, as usual, there was a slightly sober tone this morning. As usual, the conversation turned sour suddenly. The conversation is long, and quite painful, so I'll skip over the majority of it and just touch on the juicy morsels.

"I should go to bed before I start bitching at you" he proclaimed, after a short conversation about my pouting, and emotions that should be left unstirred. I apologized, as I am wont to do, and he replied "It isn't your fault I can't talk to you without getting upset." Of course I, like a moron, didn't leave it alone and responded with "Would you rather stop talking to me?" I meant it honestly, I really did. There wasn't anything sarcastic about it. He replied with a clear no, and I went on to ask if I could help, if I could make it better. He continued with no, and "Just keep doing whatever it is that you do. I'll be fine." I must admit, I was just slightly hurt by this statement, but I ignored that, and simply told him that I couldn't just not worry about it. His response? "Bleh, I'm turning into (TYOB)"

I was confused, completely blown out of the water by the statement. Aside from the surprise at the suddenness of it, guilt returned to gnaw at me like ravenous ticks, and the slow burn returned to my chest. He went on to tell me that Chris was obsessed with me, that, regardless of how much we talk, he rarely goes by a moment without thinking about me, and that the only way he knows is because he's the same way. Which, of course, stabbed at my heart. Not only am I still hurting people by being here, but I'm hurting my best friend...still.

He then brings up my...well, at the time, my current boyfriend. I hadn't told him we were dating, simply because I knew he'd be upset, and I knew he'd worry over nothing. He, of course, found out, and goes on to tell me that I'm scaring him, and that I'm going to get myself killed. We have a tussle over lies.

He tells me that I'm slowly destroying myself. He says that I've changed a lot in the past year, and that I haven't changed for the better. Woah, low blow, eh? I want to make excuses. I want to scream and yell about how hard life's been, about how many new things I've had to deal with, about how every day is sheer terror attacking me, every time I walk through the front door. But, plain and simple, he is right. I have changed, and not in a good way.

It ends, long story cut very short, with this:

You've spent hours telling me that I'm a moron, basically, and talking about how much I'm hurting you, and everyone around me. And you're mad at me because I'm done listening to it? It's pointless. It's going nowhere and, quite frankly, it hurts like hell. I'm taking your advice. I'm done talking to (my ex). But I don't see how sitting here and listening to you drip poison in my ear is helpful. And you're not there, are you? You logged out. *sigh* Bye

And later:

Don't be worried; I'm not dead. The thing with Jon went beautifully, we barely said a word between the two of us. But I'm taking a break from the internets, and I'll probably not be online for a while. You're right. I'm sorry.

I dumped my boyfriend, but not solely because of this situation. I've had a similar conversation with my mother about him. He's dangerous, he's a liar, he's far too violent for me, and he raped me. He just isn't right for me. I was really only with him because I knew I could keep him at arm's length. The last boyfriend left me in tears, tattered and broken without him. I refuse to be that again.

So, this is my "break from the internets." Have to love that, don't you? Regardless, as much as it hurts to face it, he is right. So, I am making a resolution, the new year is quickly approaching, and I will change to meet it.

1) I will stop this self-sabotaging guilt and self-esteem issue. There will be no more "I'm not doing it because it might go wrong." If I don't try, I won't get anywhere.

2) I will make a conscious effort to be more involved with my family. When everyone else has abandoned me, they will be there for me, and so I should be there for them.

3) I will make a more conscious effort to spend time with those who want to spend time with me. This does not mean dating, this does not mean making deep lasting connections. Please do not misunderstand. But I will make friends.

4) I will be a better person. I will save the money I make for school. I will volunteer my time with charities, instead of sitting on my behind all the time.

I do not need anyone.

Fork Me With a Spoon

So...guess what? It's Thanksgiving! Or, well, it WAS Thanksgiving today. Which means everyone sat around with families, blood or otherwise, and ate copious amounts of food for no good reason, and then gave copious amounts of thanks for the amazing things in their life. Right? Of COURSE! And afterward everyone farted strawberries and shat rainbows and glitter. Life is amazing like that.

Honestly, who among us has a non-dysfunctional family? Let he who is without sin...

Actually, though, my Thanksgiving ended up being pretty awesome, comparatively speaking. My family got along; we sat around all day watching TV and movies together, eating, and making fun of nearly everything that danced across the plasma screen. Yes, we have a massive plasma screen TV now. I'm sure it has nothing to do with our stunning goodwill toward each other. We didn't, however, make it to my grandparents' house, unfortunately. We'll be there soon, though. I miss them terribly.

There are other issues, though, that factor in to my general feeling of malaise this evening. I have even sat down and cried, fighting against the urge to snatch the silver Swiss Army Knife as my temporary salvation from pressure and frustration, as is my tried-and-true method of control. I don't deal well with pressure, it seems. I am a weakling.

My boyfriend, on the other hand, spent Thanksgiving at his friends' house. The friends that don't like me, as well they shouldn't. I'm not exactly good enough for him. But I digress, he spent his entire Thanksgiving over there, and is still there, because his dear sweet uncle showed up at his house for Thanksgiving dinner. I have problems with his uncle, just as he does. Though I've never met the man, he seems rather...nasty. Just today, he dislocated the boyfriend's shoulder. For no other reason than he was capable. So, I surely can't blame Jon for wanting to spend more time at his friends' house, the very same friends who saved him from a far worse beating from his semi-evil uncle.

However, I looked forward to the evening phone call with him the entire day long, as the frustration and the pain grew. It finally topped off when my license-less father informed me that he would, in fact, be driving himself to work tomorrow. That it would be FINE, that it was his life, and that any repercussions he would receive upon being caught were "not that bad." I know, I'm freaking out for no reason. He is an adult. But he could also go to jail, or lose his license for life. Call me crazy, but I really don't want to cart my father around forever. A year is plenty of time for such stress. But bah, it is not as if I'll ever leave this place; my life here seems set in stone because I will do nothing whatsoever to change it. Regardless, the "evening phone call" was the length of time it took for my boyfriend to get from his friends' apartment to his own. Which is, approximately, nine minutes. Most of it consisted of him reassuring me that he was never going to dump me, but that he'd accept my verdict if I decided that it was "game over." Because of my retardation last night. But we won't get into that.

I am a self-sabotaging moron.

On Lemons

I'm pretty sure most of us have heard the old adage "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade", right? A simple mantra touted by the "silver lining"-ists, the optimists of this world, quoted and re-quoted until it means absolutely nothing important, to remind humanity in general to "keep it positive." Great, fantastic, wonderful; a wondrous message of hope in the dreary hum-drum of the world.

Now we take someone like me; when life gives me lemons, I eat 'em. And I like it. Or, at least, I do my very best to enjoy the sour along with the sweet. I don't try to make a bad situation better. I wallow in the bad situation, because I know that it could always be worse. That it will always be worse. I wouldn't consider myself a pessimist; I do believe in life in general. I believe things work out, eventually, if you're patient enough. I believe there's good in every situation, be it good intention or good outcome, through learning or otherwise. But I also know, from personal experience, that there will always be something else waiting around the corner. There's always another rush of issues, another avalanche of drama, if you will. Plus, I like lemons. The real fruit, not the philosophical one.

Now what happens when life gives you lemonade? An optimist would, of course, take the lemonade as a sign that things really are good. They would drink up without question. Right? But someone like me? No, I take the lemonade and commence searching for lemons. If none appear, I make said lemons up. Yes, imaginary philosophical lemons. Does it get any more redundant than that? Bear with me.

What I'm saying here, in a roundabout way, is that I sabotage myself and my happiness because I'm too busy looking for the drama, looking for the issues. I'm too busy looking for the heartbreak. There always is some, of course. For the most part, however, it is for one reason and one reason alone; I make it so. So these imaginary philosophical lemons become real philosophical lemons.

I'm sure by this point you're wondering what relevance, if any, this has to anything. Trust me, my dear sweet non-existent reader. There is a reason for this. My lemon-searching seems to have dissipated in one instance. I have this boyfriend, you see. For once in my life, I am happy with something, with someone, and I am not looking for the issues. I am not anticipating hurdles. I am happy where I am, and I am not looking for a reason to go anywhere else. I find myself taking the situation as it comes, and dealing with it. I'm not consistently terrified by the idea that perhaps, someday, he will realize I am not worth it.

I am content here. Lemons or no lemons.

For once, I am not afraid.

Dizzy

Last week was...something. Something strange and alien, and yet familiar. I'm heading to the middle this week reeling; dizzy from the uncertainty, confusion, and fear. Guilt gnaws at me and nerves choke me.

Let us start with the good news. Or the semi-good news. I have acquired my driver's license with my first try of the test every. Because I am awesome, and had an awesome instructor tester guy thingy. Maneuverability was a bitch, but I got through it and am now fully able to drive by myself. I don't drive well, but I do drive. Oh it is fun! I love driving, as nerve-racking as it is.

My brother stabbed himself in the arm the other day. He had a fairly deep wound. It was gushing blood, from what I hear. My youngest brother says that the older one passed out for a second on the back porch. His friend bandaged him up, his girlfriend and friends knew about it. He told them. But he refused to tell us. He told me that he had been "bitten by [the next door neighbors'] fucking dog." I figured that it had quit bleeding, so I should just let it go, but I honestly could tell he was lying. Later that day we found out about it, and he was taken to the hospital to get stitches. My mom was going to throw him into an institution, and was yelling at him and calling him names and saying that she "didn't know [him] anymore" from what I hear. However, that was a secondary source. My dad told me that my brother had said that was what happened. However, my brother could easily have lied to cover his own arse.

My brother blabbed to his counselor about my mother yelling at him, and our caseworker was sent out again. From what it seems, she has not decided my mother is unfit, and my brother did some covering up. You see, my mom caved yesterday and allowed him to see his girlfriend, even though he wasn't supposed to. She had forbidden it. I think she was sucking up to him so that he wouldn't tell on her to the caseworker.

I hope he doesn't get upset and take it further because of the lack of help he's getting.

There are two guys who are fighting over me right now. It is an odd feeling. The one I met the day we moved in, and he decided then that he liked me. I don't like him, though; not in that way. He is mentally unstable and violent, on top of being in trouble with the law. Frankly, I've had enough trouble with the law. I don't need any more. I don't mind being his friend. I like being his friend, he's fun to be around, but he is not right for me.

Well, this other guy I met just a couple weeks before my ex dumped me. He is a liar; he has a thousand fish stories. He has been jailed on rape charges, though he was cleared through DNA testing, and has been accused unofficially by an ex girlfriend. I hope that it's just circumstance. He and I get along fairly well; we can debate for hours, and it's tons of fun. He's sweet. But, he is also violent. He is highly competitive, also, which makes me wonder if I'm nothing more than a trophy to both of them.

On top of this, the first guy is upset at me now. Things have been going well with guy number two, though I don't know that I really like him as much as he likes me. The first guy is upset because he thinks that I'm being unfair. He told me last night that he thinks I like playing with people's heads. I can see how he would say that. However, it kind of bothers me. I know he's just upset, and I shouldn't listen. Instead, though, I'm thinking that I just should extricate myself from the situation. It's not really worth it to me for them to be fighting over me. I don't want to wedge myself in between them, and I don't want to hurt anyone more than I have to. I just need to tell guy number two no. Even though I don't want to.

Confusion and frustration.

Nerves

My ex-boyfriend came and got all of his junk the other day. Nobody but my brother saw him. He said that he almost went out there, but decided against it. I have a feeling that my brother was helping the ex get the stuff into the truck. He learned the last time to be supportive and pissed off, but only when we're looking. Because Mom had a conniption last time due to the fact that my brother still wanted to be friends with the douche, and was still on his side of the situation. What can I say, right? He prefers his friends to his family. Who could blame him? Most certainly not me.

It is my youngest brother's birthday today. I find it terrifying that he is almost a teenager. My baby brother, who I've always thought of as...well, a baby for lack of a better term, is now almost to the teen stage. I can only imagine what my parents feel like. Or my grandparents. Their youngest grandchild is nearly of an age that he could be reproducing, and in many cultures would be undergoing the rites of adulthood. He would be preparing for marriage. On top of this, their first great grandchild is quickly nearing his first birthday. I hope that they live to see many more of the next generation.

One of the women at work has decided that she is going to help me find a new boyfriend. Immediately, of course, because that's what I need in my life right now. So, if any guy that is even remotely close to my age (read: within fifteen years), there she is behind me, whispering in my ear as covertly as possible and nudging my back until I stumble forward and ask if he needs any help with anything. Well, there just happens to be this one guy...a wonderful way to start a story, no? Anyway, he came in the other day dressed in his work clothes, no doubt, though I have no idea where it is that he works. He was in the store for a total of maybe twenty minutes absolute tops. He seemed to know exactly what he was looking for; he made a bee-line for the Ohio State stuff, snatched up a keychain, paid, and left. Well, for twenty or thirty minutes afterward, this co-worker of mine and I argued about whether or not he was ogling me. So I finally just said that, if the guy came in again (he didn't look at all like someone who'd come into this shop, though I have seen him before), she would win. Well, last night, surprise surprise, he came in again. This time, though, with some girl who seemed to be his girlfriend. But, I still have to tell the co-worker that she won. As he left, I looked at him and smiled really big and said "G'bye, have a great evening." He smiled back, and we locked eyes. Of course, my heart went a-flutter. He has very dark eyes, black hair, and dimples. The dimples are adorable. So, I must say, I have developed a small crush based solely on looks for the first time...no, for the second time in my life. For I am an evil human being. I know it's wrong. But the dimples are so cute! I'd love for him to come back in some time so that I might be able to talk to him, even though he doesn't look at all like someone who I'd like. Though, I shouldn't even want to talk to him. He has a girlfriend, it seems, and I don't want to be a man-stealer person. That's just wrong. We'll just see how it works out, I suppose. But I thought it was funny, personally.

Isn't it hilarious how quickly I digress into nearly normal teenaged dialogue? It's...incoherent, and disgusting. And yet, it's natural.