So here we are again. I have built myself a golden prison. I have committed to far too many things, and I am unable to handle the pressure. I am frustrated, tired, and feeling like everything I do is futile. Other people say they're committed, but too many things are falling by the wayside, and I--stupidly, as usual--have proven myself to be reliable. Fuck.
So now, like always, tons of the work falls on me. Fuck. I have to give something up. I have to sacrifice something for my sanity. Yet, I don't want to feel guilty. I don't want to feel like I'm letting a bunch of people down, which I will, of course. But I can't keep doing this. It's turning me into a terribly unpleasant person.
My car is still in the shop, too. My teeth still need to be pulled. I still make minimum wage. The administration at Owens has now decided that students who are transferring to another institution can't work at Owens anymore either. So, in addition to everything else that I have to worry about, I also have to think about losing my job. Not to mention the fact that my great aunt Katy is in the hospital.
The worst part about Katy being in the hospital is that no one bothered to call us and let us know that she was in the hospital. Apparently, she fell and broke her hip, which she had a total replacement on before. Essentially, she re-broke her hip. How long was she there? Is she doing alright? Is she having another surgery? All of these are questions that I would like to ask, but I have no answers to. No one on Dad's side of the family will call us back. (This great aunt is my father's aunt.)
It is because of this that I fear JJ and I will be making a trip to Indiana this weekend. Unless I can get some answers on the phone today--which I will have to spend the afternoon doing rather than attending Student Government--we're going to drive over. I'm way too worried about her to let this go.
The thing is that my Great Aunt Katy has been around me since I was a baby. She and her sister, Josephine, never married. They were my paternal grandmother's sisters, and they lived across the street from my grandmother and grandfather. Much of my childhood was spent at Auntie Jo and Auntie Katy's house. I drew in their living room, slept in their guest bedroom, played on their patio. They made me breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They let me paint ceramics and crochet with them. My childhood was spent in a way that allowed me to have three grandmothers. Since then, my grandmother and my great aunt Jo have passed away. Katy is the only one left.
One of my biggest fears with this whole situation is that she'll pass away and I'll never get to say good-bye. I'll never get to tell her that I love her and appreciate her. I'll never get to let her know that she meant so much to me. I'm so afraid for that. She's older. There are a million complications that could happen as the result of a broken hip. She's in her late eighties, for God's sake!
I just can't decide right now if I'm more angry or scared. Am I more angry at that side of the family for not bothering to tell us what happened? Am I more angry that my father has called them and they never bothered to call us back? Or am I more scared that something is going to happen? Am I more scared of losing her? I can't decide if I want to go scream at my stupid cousins for being selfish and horrid or cry because I haven't been affectionate or appreciative enough.
I just need a little break. RIGHT NOW.
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