Steel Family

One of my favorite movies of all time is Steel Magnolias. There are a few really good reasons why. First, I think there's something about a movie revolving around a group of women that will always appeal to other women. No matter how different you may be from the characters in the plot, there's just something about women and the responsibilities and shared experiences that we have that will always appeal to us because we can relate. Second, it's a wonderfully acted movie. There's raw emotion in those performances, which is part of what makes a movie great. Third, and most important for me, is the depiction of family and belonging in the movie.

Ever since I was a little girl, I've always envied other people who have large families and are close with even their far extended cousins and family members. Even small families who have tight-knit relationships have been the subject of my jealousy. I've always wanted to have a large, loving family. I've wanted to be surrounded by relatives on holidays, keeping in touch via phone, internet, or mail when we're not around each other. The sense of community and belonging that other people have with their families is not only foreign to me, but it is also very much lusted for and sought after.

There's something about that dream that I have come to realize: it is nearly impossible to achieve. No matter how much I want it, no matter the extent of my willingness to work for it, I cannot have what other people do not want. My immediate family is stressed by the financial and environmental circumstances that we face. It's much easier to draw back, to isolate, and in that isolation to lose sight of who we are and what is important to us. Our relationships are so strange now that it's hard to imagine how we can come back from all the hurt or stress.

Many of my desires for a larger family were met by marrying JJ. My in-laws are a large and loving group. Family holidays are often wonderful events full of love, laughter, and life. Seeing them together has taught me a great deal about what it means to be a family. More than that, seeing the way that they handle conflict has taught me about how families can grow and change, how groups of people can disagree but continue to love each other in spite of that. Yet, lately, even my husband's strong family has had troubles that have brought us all to our knees. There have been incredible, unbelievable disagreements, horrible circumstances that have changed everything, and an almost amazing inability for certain members of the family to see past their own feelings. Even I have been black-balled by a portion of the family for saying something that I had been asked to say in benefit of another member of the family. (Don't think for a moment that it saddens me to see things this way. What was said was said with good reason and was said politely. There is no reason for me to be seeing negatives, but I'm not sad that I am. I simply hope that reason or logic will someday prevail.)

Eventually, as is with the ebb and flow of true family, I know that my in-laws will all come back together. Soon enough, things will change for the better, and they will be able to see past the hurt and circumstance. I have faith in the strength of my family, their family, and I am sure that things will right themselves. In the mean time, I have chosen to learn and grow.

The thing that I have come to realize over the years (and especially lately, with family circumstances in my extended family and with my in-laws) is that you cannot force people to be your family. Family is as much a bloodline as it is a choice. One can be related without being a family, but what I want the most is a family. Moreover, what seems like a small fight or small slight can be more than that. It can burn a bridge. A person's lacking response to an attempt at reaching out can have a lasting impact or hurt. Those things don't always go away, and people don't always forgive. When I choose to do something, I need to mean it. I can't just do something without thinking of the consequences because those consequences may be bigger than I've ever imagined.

I've written before about my paternal grandmother. She was amazing. I think our family would be a great deal closer if she hadn't died when she did. When I think about her and the way she held our family together and about JJ's grandmother and the way the family revolves around her, I realize that I have a lot to live up to in the way of matriarchs. Someday, I hope that I can hold a family together in the way that my grandmother and JJ's grandmother did and do. If I ever have children (which, as of right now, is a pretty big if), I hope that they won't feel the same yearning for more family connections that I do. I hope I will be able to teach them how grateful they ought to be for their family. I hope that my children will appreciate their family, will be close to their family, and will love their family no matter what.

I don't know how to get the family that I've always wanted or to keep together the ones that I have. I'm willing to do the work. I'm willing to put aside differences, to apologize for past wrongs, to do as much as possible to keep in touch. I just need more family in my life. I need that support and love and connection. I've also realized that I need my family to need me as much as I need them. I need to know that I'm a part of something and that I'm wanted. I really hope that I find that soon.

Indiana and Rashes

I've had a busy weekend, full of ups and downs! Let's start from the beginning. Some time in the midst of last week, I used a different face wash than I would normally use. My face has had a horrible rash since about Thursday because of that. Even today, it's still swollen and painful. It itches slightly, but every time I touch it at all, it stings like the devil. Benadryl and cold compresses have been my friends. The moral of the story here is don't use new facial products when you have sensitive skin without making sure that the products are hypoallergenic first.

That said, this weekend, my dad and I headed over to Indiana. I saw JJ and gave him some of his belongings that happened to still be at the house here in Ohio. It was good to see him, but I'm still a little uncertain about the future. I guess time will tell.

I also went to church--our old church--for the first time in a long time. It was good to see everyone again. I got a ton of compliments about my hair. I would have thought the blue streak wouldn't have gone over so well with church folks, but it was apparently a really big hit. It was really nice to see everyone. It made me miss living in Indiana a bit, made me nostalgic. It would probably have been a lot better if I didn't feel like a leper with this giant red, swelling rash all over my face, but you take what you can get, right?

We also visited with my grandfather, who just got out of the hospital. He's been having some health issues lately. We were also told that if he doesn't start seeing some improvement with some of the issues he's been having, he may end up facing some surgery, which would not be good. He's improved slightly, however, so we'll take whatever blessings we can get. I know he feels a lot better being able to be at home, rather than cooped up in a hospital room with a roommate who can't be quiet. I suppose that would make me feel better, too.

More concerning, however, is that my great aunt Katy is in the hospital. She's been in the hospital for most of the week, but no one told our family about it. We managed to find out just before we left to come back to Ohio, so we went up to see her beforehand. She's such a fragile little woman, and I worry about her. I know that she's 92 years old, which means she's lived a pretty long life. She told us that she feels like she's toward the end of her life, and that makes me so sad. She also said, though, that she felt like she had a wonderful, long life and that she and our family are very lucky.

She's right; we are lucky. We have a mostly good family, no matter how often pettiness gets in the way. For the most part, we've got good lives and plenty of things to be grateful for. My father started to tear up in the hospital room as we were talking with her. It's very true that it will be so difficult when she passes away, but I'd rather look at it as a normal, natural part of life. I will miss her when she's gone, but she also seems very ready to go. She was calm, and she looked back on her life with a very large amount of gratitude. I'm just hoping that this wasn't the last time that I'll get to see Auntie Katy. She's done a lot for me, and I don't want her to go yet. I'm not ready to let go yet.

Coming home was both good and bad. I'm worried about the state of the things I left in Indiana. I'm glad to be comfortable and back in my own bed again. Yet, I still have a lot to do. I have more things to sort through, more things to find places for in my room. I sort of feel like I'll never be done, which is discouraging. I plan on taking my time, though. Today, I'll be mostly useless because of all the benadryl in my system, but I suppose it'll be okay. I need some time to rest and relax anyway, let my body start taking care of this rash. I'm hopeful that things will start to improve soon.

Beds Aren't Just For Sleeping

My sleep schedule is, once again, totally screwed up. I've been meaning to blog again for the last couple of days,  but I get into this terrible habit of thinking about what to write while laying in bed. By the time I think of something worth actually writing about, I'm in the process of falling asleep. Naturally, when I wake up, I don't have any recollection of what I was thinking about beforehand.

Sleeping for me has been happening in oddly placed four to six hour segments. I'll sleep from midnight to around four A.M., but then I'll be awake until around noon. Then I'll sleep from noon until around five P.M. and be awake until midnight again. It's not really allowing me to be very well-rested, but it's also not really allowing me to get a whole hell of a lot done, either.

Of course, that's based on the notion that I've been productive lately. And, let's face it, that's just not the case. I've been watching a lot of anime lately, though. I forgot how much I loved Japanese and the Japanese culture. I forgot how enjoyable anime happens to be. I also forgot that after watching two series (start to finish) in five days that, afterwards, I have a propensity for spitting out Japanese phrases as though they make sense to those around me. (For those of you who don't know, I took four years of Japanese in high school. I loved it! So, while those phrases may make sense to me, most people in the Midwest don't really speak Japanese.) Anime also makes me crave Japanese foods and green tea.

In line with my recent attempts to be neither seen nor heard in my household, most of my anime viewing has been via Netflix streaming from my laptop in my room. I usually watch it while just laying in bed, which means I probably would look pretty strange to anyone who happened to just walk in. Especially since most of the time I'm also cuddling a large, stuffed penguin.

Yeah, that's right. This is how we do anime nights.

I'm pretty sure that I spend much more time in bed than your average human being--unless, I suppose, you're comparing me to maybe John and Yoko. I'm not usually sleeping in it. I'm reading, blogging, watching anime, watching Netflix (since my TV is still not hooked up...because I'm usually too lazy to get out of bed when the laptop is right there...), surfing the internet, or whatever else. Eventually, yes, I might give in and sleep. Most of the time, though, I'm actually doing something.

I guess probably the worst part about this crazy sleep schedule is that nights can be really lonely. No one's awake in our house--not that I'd really be downstairs or in the way--and hardly anyone is online. It's pretty much just me and Netflix. I've been visiting this website, CompassionPit, which allows you to vent your problems to other people or to listen to other people who need to vent theirs anonymously. I recently connected with a young lady on there going through a bad break up, and we were able to kill a few hours together chatting.

I suppose I really should change my sleep schedule back to normal, but I guess the bottom line is that my life isn't really all that normal right now. Why modify my sleep schedule when my life is so out of whack? I mean, I know that there are people out there who will tell me that I just need to get back to a normal cycle because that will help normalize my life, but the fact of the matter is that that's just not true. My life isn't going to be normal because there's nothing normal about me right now. I suppose sleep weirdness stays until life weirdness goes.

Internets and Disenchantment

After being without internet for several days, having the internet back at my fingertips is kind of a blessing. I suppose I didn't really realize how dependent I was on the web for entertainment until I didn't have it around for a few days. I'm not incapable of surviving, but trivial knowledge was much harder to come by. (We found ourselves saying, "Well, I'd get online and google it, but..." a lot!) Our internet and phone service was down and we were missing several cable channels (and by several, I mean something like half) because of a service problem in our area.

I will say one thing, however. I was reluctant to purchase my Android phone because I was certain I'd never use it that often, and I was sure that many of its features would be wasted on me. I no longer fear that with my phone. My phone was the only internet connection in the house while it was down, and I was never more glad to have gotten an Android phone than I was these last few days. My phone kept me connected to Facebook and Twitter. While I didn't peruse those things with the same eye that I would have had I been sitting at my laptop, it was nice to have the ability to be on the social network despite the at-home technical malfunctions.

Upon having the world at my leisurely access again, I started looking a little more at Vancouver and UBC. I'm not going to lie, I'm afraid that I'm not going to have the money to go there like I want. I'm afraid that I'm not going to be able to afford school there at all, let alone housing and transportation and incidentals. Of course, I'm devastated at that prospect because I want to be in Vancouver more than I've ever wanted anything, really. I need to figure out this money situation, and I need to do it now so that I can save up for grad school. I need a car and a job, and I needed them yesterday.

I'm not trying to be bitter about my life, but I'm pretty sure that no one ever told me when I was a child that the entirety of my adult life would be spent struggling to make ends even come near meeting, let alone focusing on fulfilling my dreams. If someone would have just told me that I would be miserable no matter how hard I tried, I might not feel quite so cheated right now. But then, I don't suppose that any amount of preparation--proper or otherwise--could really prepare a person for the harsh realities of life.

It's just that, as a child, people always tell you that you can be whatever you want to be. They don't tell you that you'll never be able to afford to be what you want to be. They don't tell you that, even if you do pull off the money to be what you want to be, it's not going to be what you thought it would be and you'll end up disillusioned. No one prepares you for the let down. They build you up with all of these magnificent possibilities, but they don't tell you how impossible those are to achieve. They don't tell you about the let-down.

I realize that I'm being terribly pessimistic because I'm not sure I'm going to get what I want. It's just that I'm a little crestfallen right now. I'm still going to strive for what I want. I'm still going to do my best to make it happen. I'm just feeling the burden of how incredibly difficult that's going to be right now. I need advice. How do you make the world cough up the life that you want? Ah, why couldn't I just get a trust fund and have everything handed to me?! Woe to the unfairness of life!

Don't mind my whining. Give me a few days. It'll pass. I just need to find my motivation again. I need to find the desire to dust myself off and give it all that I have. And I need to face the dark reality that I'm going to be doing that without anyone else's support, fiscally or otherwise. It's going to be scary and difficult and I might not like it at all, but that's how it's going to be. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go ponder the hysterical and radical magnitude of the fact that Lindsey Lohan has enough money to do drugs until the cows come home, but I can't afford to go to school to better myself. Good one, Jesus!

Oh...Canada?

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the future. I've been thinking about what it is that I want to do with myself, where I want to be, and where I see myself. I've been thinking about Canada.

I realize that this may seem random, but let's chat about that. You see, I've always wanted to live in a more major metro area. I like the idea of a city that never sleeps, the idea of being able to go out at 4 AM and know that I'll find people and I'll have something to do. What I don't like about most cities in the United States is how unsafe they are. Plus, let's be honest here, Citizens: people in the U.S. are a little bit twisted. Canada is safer. Canadians respect each other. Sure, there are bad eggs, but Canadians don't really have the same kind of rudeness that we have here in the States. It's just different.

That's not the only reason that Canada appeals to me, and I'm sure that, at this point, I'm not really seeming any less random. It's just that Canada feels like possibility. Canada feels like America but better. I could see myself living in Canada. I could see myself being able to thrive there. Canada could be the place that turns my life around. I've been wanting to go there for a while now. We visited Niagara and Toronto when I was about 12, and they were amazing cities. I would go back in a heartbeat. I don't have to explain all the great reasons to live in Canada or why it matters to me. I guess I just really need to put it out there to the universe that this is what I want.

I really need to start over, and I think I'd like to do that somewhere completely different. I need things to change so much. I know I have a ways to go before I'll be out of school here in Ohio, so I'm thinking that maybe Canada will have to wait until I'm ready for grad school. Yet, I think grad school will be the perfect opportunity to make that happen for me. I've been looking at graduate schools in Canada, more specifically in Vancouver. The University of British Columbia is in Vancouver, and they have a pretty good rating in Canada. Not only that, but they have MA and Ph.D. programs in English.

The more I think about going, the more scary the prospect becomes, though. I'd be starting a life (or, at the very least, a new chapter of my life) in a totally unfamiliar place--not just city-wise, but country-wise. I wouldn't know anyone there. I wouldn't know the best places to shop or who to talk to if I have car or computer troubles. I'd have to discover everything. Completely. As much as that idea appeals to me, it's also terrifying to think that I would be--for the first time in my life--totally without a safety net. Canada is also a pretty expensive place to live, so it's a pretty daunting task to go there and try to make it on my own.

For some reason, though, I can't get the idea of moving to Vancouver out of my head. It's where I want to be. It's calling me. As unnerving as it is to face the idea of heading to another country, it's even more intimidating to have to face myself and my own disappointment if I completely ignore my urge to follow my dreams. Going to grad school, going to Vancouver, those are definitely my dreams. I don't want to wait until I'm 40 to have my self-actualization moment. I want to have the courage to do these things while I'm still young enough to love them and have plenty of time to look back on them and rejoice having had those experiences.

I just need to do something for myself. I need to do what makes me happy, and I really think that this would. Does this seem selfish? Should I care if it does? I mean, at the end of the day, this is my life and I'm the one that has to be happy with it. Ultimately, it's me that has to live with me. I don't want to regret not doing this for the rest of my life. I want to do it. I want to make it happen. Is that so wrong of me?

Standing Up

Another blog inspired by a Facebook post? Why, yes!

A relative of mine shared this clip with me on Facebook. The basic set-up is that ABC News hired some actors to play a gay family at a restaurant and a waitress to behave badly and in a discriminatory manner toward them in public. They set up hidden cameras to observe the reactions of other patrons at the restaurant. The whole thing was shot in a small, conservative Texas town, by the way.

The results were somewhat surprising to me. Person after person got up and told the waitress that she was being incredibly rude. People offered to buy breakfast for the family. One amazing young man wrote the lesbian couple in the clip a note that offered them beautiful, kind words of support. It was so touching that the actress playing one of the lesbians began to cry.

The young man's note said the following:

Hello Friends,

I know it doesn't mean much, but I love you all. You have a beautiful family, and I pray that one person's judgmental intolerance does not, in any way, put a damper on your hearts or minds. In the words of MLK Jr, "In the end, we remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."

Donovan

 His letter to the couple made me tear up a little bit when I watched the story. Years ago, people could get away with saying just about whatever they wanted to gay couples and no one would stand up for them. I remember seeing the effect it had on our family friends. It could be really ugly and really hurtful. It restores some of my faith in humanity to see so many people standing up for what they think is right.

For me, this begs a question: what would you do in the same situation? Would you put yourself into a situation that had nothing to do with you in order to stop something that you know is wrong? My answer is yes. I've done it before, and I have no qualms about doing it again. It's wrong to allow discrimination to happen in front of your eyes. What I worry about is the answer that other people would give when asked the same question. How many people think, "Well, this is none of my business," and just sit back and do nothing?

Donovan is right; it is the inaction of those around us who do side with us that sticks with us in the long run. I don't ever want someone to look at me and wonder why I didn't stand up for what I believed in. I don't want to see people around me hurting when I have the chance to do something about it. I don't think it's right to sit back and do nothing. Even if what I say doesn't make a difference, at least I will have had the courage to say it, to take a stand. That's important to me.

Stand up for what you believe in. Do what you think is right. Inactivity is almost worse than aggression and hate because inactivity perpetuates aggression and hate by allowing them to go on. There is a saying that always stuck with me which fits this very well:

First they came for the Jews and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for the Communists and I did not speak out because I was not a Communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak out for me.

(Martin Niemoller, 1892-1984)

 Always stand up for what you think is right. Doing so can give other people around you the courage to do the same. At the very least, it allows you to sleep well at night knowing that you didn't sit idly by and allow the perpetuation of injustice.

Creativity and Showing Up

A friend of mine recently posted something interesting on my Facebook wall. It was one of those TED talks by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love. The subject of the talk was creativity. Those of you who follow my blog more frequently may know that, for me, creativity is something of a terror. I'm not particularly creative, which is a bit of a bother considering how badly I wish to be creative. I love writing, but I've never felt like I was particularly good at it.

But today, Elizabeth Gilbert got me thinking. She feels that creativity can come from an outside source, that inspiration isn't always the product of the person. Creativity can come from outside muses, which is what the Greeks and Romans both believed. Creativity can be a force that simply enters you. Showing up and doing the work, making something out of nothing, is really a person's only job in creativity. Making an effort is part of how you make something count.

How does this apply to my life? When my younger brother and I have discussed school and the possibility of him going back to take some classes, I've been known to tell him that 90% of my success in college has been in showing up for class. The rest of the success kind of makes its own gravy, you know? Hearing Elizabeth Gilbert apply that philosophy to the creativity made me realize that showing up and doing the work is something that I often don't do when it comes to creative works.

Let me explain. I've always considered creativity to be something that a person either has or does not have. In my head, I've maintained this notion that people come by their artistic talents naturally. (I mean, surely da Vinci was able to draw and paint like that all of his life, right?) Even though I know some artists who have had to work at their craft, learn and apply new techniques, and work through trial-and-error, I never really put it together that creativity could be something that a person could work at. I guess I never did that because working at creativity means that some of your works might not be as good as the rest; some of them might be total flops and failures. I never thought that creativity could be a failure because I only thought of creativity as being something that succeeds. Something creative is always amazing. I never considered the fact that something that sucked could also be creative because I always thought that the things that I produced which--in my eyes--sucked, were totally lacking in creativity.

I haven't been practicing what I preach. I haven't been showing up when it comes to creativity. I haven't been writing as much lately because I feel like I have nothing creative or worthwhile to say. I don't contemplate writing other things. I don't push myself to come up with a concept. I don't even sit with my laptop and fake an attempt at writing something. I simply let it slide on past me. I never thought that I could be creative even in things that aren't as interesting because they help me to grow to a more creative end. I need to start showing up, doing my part in the creative dance. I need to start doing for the sake of doing and having faith that some of the things that come of it will be creative and good.

This is step one in the process of showing up. Producing something. Let's hope I can make a more concentrated effort on that front.

Privacy in the Modern Age

I read an article today that really got me thinking. In the past, the girls and I have had discussions at the dorms about the nature of rumors, privacy, and libel. I have been of the belief for quite some time now that privacy, in the modern age, is dead. Let me tell you why.

First of all, we live in an era where everything is available online. You can do a quick Google search and find out just about anything that you want about a person without having to work too hard for it. I know that this is true because I google people all the time. You can put a lot of pieces together with a well-thought foray into the joys of Internet search engines. In the past, I've started with a name and found websites, interviews, personal information, and even images of a person's home residence. It's all out there, one just has to know how to find it.

Secondly, we're coming to find that we have a generation of people who are putting their every thought out there on the web without even thinking about it. Facebook and Twitter have only added to that trend. It's possible to whip out a mobile phone and toss out 140 characters of whatever you want. It's a cultural ideal that encourages people to update, to share, to network, but it doesn't encourage them to think. It's too easy to drunk-text a Twitter update without considering the ramifications of what you're doing. It's too easy to put out a status update that outs someone as a bad friend without considering the fact that it also makes you a bad friend for putting it all over Facebook. Even the author of the aforementioned article notes that she didn't think, at the age that she started her sex blog, that people would think it was a big deal or that they'd go out of their way to hurt her for it. She didn't consider the ramifications of her writing.

Thirdly, if you're not putting it out there, someone else will or has. If you're not telling Facebook that you got hammered with your besties last night, you'd better monitor what your besties are saying. Odds are fair that one of them wrote to someone or even made a status about how you embarrassed yourself by puking in the pool. It goes beyond just personal circumstances, though. Information is disseminated pretty freely these days. Winning a contest or tournament means that your name will be out there for the world to see. More to the point, your address is on google right now, and you probably didn't put it there yourself.  You don't always have control over what is written about you.

People are ugly. We hurt each other. This is what we do. There is always going to be some hater who looks at what you've written and wants to find a way to use it to destroy you. There will always be a person that wants you to feel terrible, even if there is no logic to those feelings. Perfect strangers will find a way to hate you for no reason at all. Trolls on the Internet will use whatever they can to get to the people that they dislike. This comes as no surprise at all.

Privacy is dead because we have slain it ourselves. The information age comes at a price. Having widely disseminated information out there means that some of that information might be about you. Is that a price that you're willing to pay for the knowledge that Angelina Jolie prefers her underwear white and Hunter S. Thompson was really fond of grilled cheese? (Those are totally made up facts. I have no idea about Angelina's underwear or Hunter's food-loving ways. Frankly, those subjects are too boring for me to google.) The instant-update attitude that Facebook and Twitter add to our lifestyles only exacerbate the death of privacy, and those are based in choice. No one makes you update Facebook or Twitter with personal information that may be damning. In some ways, we play a major role in our own lack of privacy, so it makes no sense to blame others for it.

Here's my feeling about privacy: If you don't want someone to know that you did something, then don't do it. It's simple. People can't  find out about what didn't happen. Not committing an act means that you don't have to find ways to lie about it. It also saves you the embarrassment of a friend calling you out on actions that you didn't want them to find out about. If you'll feel bad for it later, if you might have to apologize for it (and apologies aren't your thing), then just don't do it. Privacy isn't an issue if you're not doing things that you feel like you might need to hide.This world is too populated and small for people to think that they would be able to have a space or forum totally free from other people and judgment.

As far as I'm concerned, there isn't a reasonable expectation of privacy any more. I live my life like people are watching what I'm doing because, let's be honest, they might be.

Discomfort and Disappointments

Well, I clearly fail at updating my blog more frequently. On the upside, I'm finally getting to a place where I'm starting to sort through all the clutter in my brain--which sort of works for me because I'm doing the same thing in my actual living space as well.

I mean, I guess calling it my living space is probably stretching things a little bit. I'm back at my parents' house for the time being, until I can get my settlement from the car accident, followed soon after by a car and, subsequently, a job. Let me just say that this is certainly not an ideal arrangement. My family is under a lot of financial strain right now, and adding another person to this mix is probably not making things much easier for them on that front. More than that, it's a personal strain for me. There are a lot of things that I'm struggling to figure out right now, and my family is not making that any easier for me.

I love my family, but we don't get along terribly well. We've never been a feelings sharing kind of family. We tend to be more of a family that places the blame, slams the doors, and makes passive aggressive quips at the dinner table. "Ketchup you say? I couldn't hear you over the sound of how much you suck." (Okay, so maybe no one said those exact words, but it's not far off!) Ultimately, we love each other, but there's never been an adequate way of showing it. And living with a group of people who may or may not love or hate you (depending on the time of day and what you've done for them lately) can be ridiculously exhausting.

Being here makes me feel like I'll never be good enough to garner the acceptance of my mother. I feel like, no matter what I do, it won't be enough to be worthy. It's my action or inaction in the house. It's my choice to get an English degree instead of a nursing degree--which she is in a constant state of trying to change my mind about with little comments like, "I never liked English. I don't really see the need for it." It's my relationships with my friends. It's my marriage. There's always something about me that just doesn't make the cut.

Then, I find myself wondering why it matters at all. If I'm never going to be good enough, then it doesn't really matter what I do at all, does it? It's time for me to start living my life for what makes me happy, not what makes everyone else happy. Of course, that's easier said than done, and it raises a whole set of questions in and of itself: What is it that makes me happy? How can I find a balance between doing what makes me happy and keeping the peace while I'm still at home? Do I have to apologize for who I am?

Mostly, being here just makes me yearn to be back out on my own again. I miss independence. I crave the ability to actually buy my own groceries, have control over my own kitchen and refrigerator. I want to the be the one who calls all the shots about how to arrange the furniture. I want to look at a mess and not be filled with resentment because I have to clean it up when I didn't make it--I want to look at a mess and know that it was all me and that cleaning it up is worth it because making it was worth it. I want to feel like I'm at peace in my own home again. Cleaning up my bedroom, arranging my desk and closets and drawers doesn't matter if I'm only coming up to my room to escape all the discord in the rest of the house. I want to be comfortable with where I'm living again.

I feel like my youth is wasting away. I should be able to go out and have a good time. I should be able to be comfortable with my life and my home. I should be having experiences, rather than sitting in my room at home and waiting for money to come to me so I can fix my fucked up life. I'm so angry about my circumstances. I'm staring to feel consumed by all the bitterness that's accumulating in me. It's not a good bitterness. It's not like the bitterness of dark chocolate which only makes the sweetness that much sweeter, the bitterness that you learn from. It's rough, tearing, horrible bitterness. It's collecting inside of me faster than I can make it go away. This bitterness just makes my need to have a life of my own again all that much more urgent to me.

It would be really great if a car and an apartment just fell into my lap. In the mean time, how do I figure out how to get it together? My counselor wants me to figure out what it is that I want to accomplish with her in my sessions. I suppose this entry alone will give me a decent place to start. The main thing I'd really like to figure out is how to lose all this anger all the time. How do I stop getting angry at other people for trying to commandeer my life? How do I stop the anger that results when other people try to make me feel like a failure for not living my life in the way that they expected me to live it? How do I do what's right for me without caring about disappointing people? I suppose if I could figure out the answers to those questions, I'd be solving everyone's problems.

Semester's End

My Spring semester at Lourdes has come to a close. It was much more difficult than I had thought it would be, and in many ways, more rewarding to finish it than I could ever have assumed it would be. During my semester, I started counseling, which has been both good and bad. It was, above all, certainly needed. My counselor has been pretty amazing, and it's nice to have a place to go to spill one's guts. There is a therapeutic value to being able to allow your feelings to gush forth like water from a broken pipe. (I fought the urge there, for the record, to compare it to blood and veins, but then I thought I might be giving the wrong impression, what with the mention of counseling in the very same paragraph and all.)

Being out of the dorms is both wonderful and awful. I made some great friends there, and I will miss them greatly. The drama, on the other hand, was getting to be a little too much to handle with my sanity in tact. Being home is imperfect, but it's also temporary. I'm almost hesitant to unpack my things because it feels like the time I spent living with all my friends at the dorms will truly be at an end. It also feels like the weight of the choices that face me will crush me.

Choice is big for me right now. I have to choose where to live, choose what to do with friends, choose what to do with my marriage, choose what to do in difficult situations, choose to stay sober. Every time I turn around, there's another tough call to make, another situation that requires the full magnitude of all of my thought. Staying sober has been difficult in all of this, but it's also been great. I am, in the face of all the questions I get day-to-day (from everyone, including my counselor), still sober. In a little less than a month, it'll be six months sober for me. While I don't go to AA or anything (yet...), I still feel pretty accomplished.

Mostly, I just wanted to update this blog before going to sleep. I know it's been a while, but I'm still here. I'm still hanging in. I'll expand on feelings-type crap tomorrow. For now, I'm content to still be. And to get a little sleep.