My grandpa is slowly dying and there's nothing we can do about it.
We watch as his organs shut down and his body functions begin to disintegrate and he drowns in his own body fluid because we can't stop it from filling his lungs.
They say the morphine blocks out the pain of drowning, the pain of hunger, the pain of thirst, but there's no real way to tell, is there? Unless they really give him too much and guarantee that there's a lack of pain.
I'm still just a kid to them. I'm still just little old Katie, too young to understand the gravity of the situation. Here I am, just little old Katie, sitting in a chair, wondering in a clueless, innocent fashion what is going on.
Uncle Ron takes over. Uncle Ron knows what's best. He assumes the authoritative position and decides everything. He assumes we agree with what he says. He doesn't even bother to assume if I agree, though, because my opinion doesn't matter anyway. I'm just a kid. I don't know what's going on.
We are ALL going through a hard time. We all know how important and influential Grandpa was. We all have our own special connections with him. We all have a voice in how this should be handled. We all know that Grandpa is going to die. And we all know that we all have to watch. Why should it matter who the fucking LEADER is?
I am seventeen years old. I am six months away from being eighteen. I know that that's still young, but I will not be categorized as one of "the kids" and just thrown into whatever position is open. I refuse. And I don't give a flying fuck what Uncle Ron thinks about it.
I love my grandpa. I love him so much. He created this family. He made it into what it is. He kept us all together. He kept the peace.
I'm probably just overreacting and taking all this out on my uncle because I'm having a hard time dealing with all this, but I was never looked at as being more than a kid, even before this happened. And now, no matter how much effort I spend trying to take care of everyone else, trying to assure that everyone else is okay, trying to make sure everyone has what they need, I'm still going to be another kid, another dependent, another one to be pushed to the side with a lack of knowledge, a lack of understanding, a lack of importance.
I'm not important to this family.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
When it just seemed to be getting better
My grandpa had a massive stroke.
He's okay. I mean, okay as he can be. He can't talk and his right side is paralyzed, but he's awake and cognizant of what's going on around him, and I'm pretty sure he knows who we are and what we're saying to him. I'm just so grateful that he isn't in a coma. Or dead. There's always that too.
The last thing my grandpa said to me was about my depression. I live pretty much right next to where he works, and he was taking a walk as I was exiting my neighborhood, so I pulled up next to him to talk to him.
He said that I shouldn't let it get me down and move on. I was frustrated because I was not only having a bad day, but I'd also had similar lectures from different people, so I just sort of brushed him off. I told him thanks and I'd try, and then I drove off. I'm pretty sure that was the last time I saw him.
It's interesting, I guess. Thinking about it.
Right now, I'm at Mercy hospital and I'm staying the night here. And I'm skipping school tomorrow. I guess I can't catch a break when it comes to school attendance. Consider my exemptions kissed goodbye.
I look around at all the people in the waiting room outside of the ICU and it's a really eclectic group. Well, as eclectic as they come in a Catholic hospital. I wonder what happened to their loved ones and why they're here. There's one guy that has a gray and black beard sitting not too far from me and he's all by himself. Is it his wife in there? His estranged child? A sibling? Maybe just a close friend?
There's a family here and I just overheard that their loved one has stage 4 melanoma, which is the most dangerous type of skin cancer. Stage 4 is the worst stage and can't be cured by surgery alone.
It's just interesting to me, I guess, seeing all these people that support other people and would give up a planned weekend to be there for them.
I have a birthday party, a writing workshop, and a nine-hour rehearsal that I have to cancel. :/ I mean, not that I mind, but I was really excited.
I love my grandpa. He's the one person in my family that is invincible. And yet now, I guess it's pretty much proven that he isn't, and that's so heart-breaking.
He's the heart and soul to this family. He is what keeps everyone together. He is Mercer, you know? I dunno. I guess that sounds strange.
It's so sad to see him like this.
At the same time, though, I'm feeling sort of numb to it all. I don't even mean like I'm trying to numb the pain; I just mean that I don't really feel much. I feel upset that he's incapacitated, but most of my sadness stems from watching everyone else react.
Not that I don't love my grandpa, because I do. He's an amazingly unique person and has had a huge impact on my life. I could never forget my grandpa.
But right now, I feel just sort of mutely sad for everyone else. I got blankets and pillows and food and everything to take care of everyone else.
I especially ache for Cristin. She's taking this so hard. Grandpa is her rock, the only man in her life that really understood her and kept his word on everything he said. She just keeps crying.
Mom, too. Mom's hiding it right now, but I know she's gonna break down sooner or later.
It makes me think about my dad and what I would do if something happened to him. I don't know if I could take it. As much as I hate some things about him, I still love him unconditionally. It's just hard to get over the pride and the awkwardness sometimes.
I love being a part of a loving, supportive, close-knit family.
He's okay. I mean, okay as he can be. He can't talk and his right side is paralyzed, but he's awake and cognizant of what's going on around him, and I'm pretty sure he knows who we are and what we're saying to him. I'm just so grateful that he isn't in a coma. Or dead. There's always that too.
The last thing my grandpa said to me was about my depression. I live pretty much right next to where he works, and he was taking a walk as I was exiting my neighborhood, so I pulled up next to him to talk to him.
He said that I shouldn't let it get me down and move on. I was frustrated because I was not only having a bad day, but I'd also had similar lectures from different people, so I just sort of brushed him off. I told him thanks and I'd try, and then I drove off. I'm pretty sure that was the last time I saw him.
It's interesting, I guess. Thinking about it.
Right now, I'm at Mercy hospital and I'm staying the night here. And I'm skipping school tomorrow. I guess I can't catch a break when it comes to school attendance. Consider my exemptions kissed goodbye.
I look around at all the people in the waiting room outside of the ICU and it's a really eclectic group. Well, as eclectic as they come in a Catholic hospital. I wonder what happened to their loved ones and why they're here. There's one guy that has a gray and black beard sitting not too far from me and he's all by himself. Is it his wife in there? His estranged child? A sibling? Maybe just a close friend?
There's a family here and I just overheard that their loved one has stage 4 melanoma, which is the most dangerous type of skin cancer. Stage 4 is the worst stage and can't be cured by surgery alone.
It's just interesting to me, I guess, seeing all these people that support other people and would give up a planned weekend to be there for them.
I have a birthday party, a writing workshop, and a nine-hour rehearsal that I have to cancel. :/ I mean, not that I mind, but I was really excited.
I love my grandpa. He's the one person in my family that is invincible. And yet now, I guess it's pretty much proven that he isn't, and that's so heart-breaking.
He's the heart and soul to this family. He is what keeps everyone together. He is Mercer, you know? I dunno. I guess that sounds strange.
It's so sad to see him like this.
At the same time, though, I'm feeling sort of numb to it all. I don't even mean like I'm trying to numb the pain; I just mean that I don't really feel much. I feel upset that he's incapacitated, but most of my sadness stems from watching everyone else react.
Not that I don't love my grandpa, because I do. He's an amazingly unique person and has had a huge impact on my life. I could never forget my grandpa.
But right now, I feel just sort of mutely sad for everyone else. I got blankets and pillows and food and everything to take care of everyone else.
I especially ache for Cristin. She's taking this so hard. Grandpa is her rock, the only man in her life that really understood her and kept his word on everything he said. She just keeps crying.
Mom, too. Mom's hiding it right now, but I know she's gonna break down sooner or later.
It makes me think about my dad and what I would do if something happened to him. I don't know if I could take it. As much as I hate some things about him, I still love him unconditionally. It's just hard to get over the pride and the awkwardness sometimes.
I love being a part of a loving, supportive, close-knit family.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
It's like a constant, throbbing nausea that you know would go away with sleep but it keeps you awake at night.
This is how I feel right now.
I stayed home from school yesterday. I'm staying home today, too.
My head hurts. So. Bad.
In reality, when does it NOT hurt?
I can't even function anymore. You wanna know how many times I threw up bile yesterday?
Five.
Five times I staggered to a toilet, vomited myself to near unconscious, staggered back to the couch, and collapsed while the sensitive fabric absorbed my cold sweat.
Except one of those five times was outside in the grass because my mom still had to come home and take me to my psychologist appointment, and she had to take me because I obviously couldn't drive myself. Oh, and the appointment is next week.
And another one of those five times was in my mom's car, in a huge water bottle she has in there. I had to hide it in a stray bag so my mom wouldn't get grossed out.
Yeah. This is something serious. Dad.
This is way more serious than skipping some fucking school to see my boyfriend.
Every time I have an emotional meltdown, I have a thoroughly incapacitating migraine the next morning.
And it lasts all day.
And all night.
And apparently, even into the next day.
Because that's where I am right now.
My head still hurts. And I'm still nauseous. And it's been a good twenty-four hours, if not more.
And it's REALLY a bitch because I'm so fucking depressed right now, I have emotional meltdowns about once a week.
I'm so tired.
But I can't sleep because of the intense pain jarring all senses.
Some people just have to face misery. Not that I'm saying I go through more misery than anyone else. God, I know that much.
But some people just have to go through shit just because it happens.
Maybe I do deserve it.
I don't really know what I did wrong to deserve it. I mean, I do stupid teenage stuff, but so do all stupid teenagers. I've never done anything really tremendously terrible.
Oh, yeah. So Dad. I hope you read this.
I hope you read this because I don't lie on here. I may lie to your face, but I won't lie to my own personal journal.
I have never. Ever. Skipped. School.
I think maybe I did once.
When I was eight.
And it was because it was my birthday. Or something of that nature.
I have never drank.
I have never even seen pot.
I've never smoked a cigarette.
Never injected any addictive toxin into my bloodstream.
I guess you do have me pinned on the sex thing. With my boyfriend who I've been dating for a year and a half almost. Gosh. Ya caught me.
I. Have. Never. Skipped. School.
When I stay home, it's because I'm like this. Throwing up five times a day. On average. One time it reached seven. And then there was another time when I was throwing up once about every twenty minutes, so my mom took me to the ER.
But you remember that.
That was when you sat there and antagonized me as I choked on my own stomach acid.
"Maybe you can take your finals in summer school since you obviously don't have enough credit to pass your sophomore year."
Yes. You said that.
You probably won't remember saying it, but I remember hearing it.
I've come to discover that despite the fact that you are a good man and you love me, something about verbal abuse gets you off.
Well, Dad.
I hope you don't take out your anger on Shelley, now that I'm gone. Because she can leave you too. But she won't feel the need to come back like I do.
The truth? I really miss you guys.
I really, really do.
But I can't live with you.
Apparently I can't even visit because the last time I spent with you, you just stressed me out into tears after you left.
"No, this medical absence might come in handy if you have to go to summer school."
I hate that part of you, Dad. The part that has to say mean things to people.
Oh. And yesterday wasn't a Tuesday. By the way.
AND BRIAN DIDN'T COME OVER.
He doesn't even have enough money to come over that often. If you recall, he's paying his way through college without any help from his parents.
If my depression is this bad, I don't even want to know how you feel all the time. At least I don't feel compelled to talk to my own flesh and blood family members like they don't matter. At least I'm nice to people.
I've thought of suicide, but I don't think I could ever actually do it. I have too many people that care about me. Plus Razia's Shadow. I have to see it through.
But those are the only two things stopping me from losing it.
This is no cry for sympathy from some washed-out emo.
This is the truth.
And I can only pray to whatever deity is up there that you see that.
I stayed home from school yesterday. I'm staying home today, too.
My head hurts. So. Bad.
In reality, when does it NOT hurt?
I can't even function anymore. You wanna know how many times I threw up bile yesterday?
Five.
Five times I staggered to a toilet, vomited myself to near unconscious, staggered back to the couch, and collapsed while the sensitive fabric absorbed my cold sweat.
Except one of those five times was outside in the grass because my mom still had to come home and take me to my psychologist appointment, and she had to take me because I obviously couldn't drive myself. Oh, and the appointment is next week.
And another one of those five times was in my mom's car, in a huge water bottle she has in there. I had to hide it in a stray bag so my mom wouldn't get grossed out.
Yeah. This is something serious. Dad.
This is way more serious than skipping some fucking school to see my boyfriend.
Every time I have an emotional meltdown, I have a thoroughly incapacitating migraine the next morning.
And it lasts all day.
And all night.
And apparently, even into the next day.
Because that's where I am right now.
My head still hurts. And I'm still nauseous. And it's been a good twenty-four hours, if not more.
And it's REALLY a bitch because I'm so fucking depressed right now, I have emotional meltdowns about once a week.
I'm so tired.
But I can't sleep because of the intense pain jarring all senses.
Some people just have to face misery. Not that I'm saying I go through more misery than anyone else. God, I know that much.
But some people just have to go through shit just because it happens.
Maybe I do deserve it.
I don't really know what I did wrong to deserve it. I mean, I do stupid teenage stuff, but so do all stupid teenagers. I've never done anything really tremendously terrible.
Oh, yeah. So Dad. I hope you read this.
I hope you read this because I don't lie on here. I may lie to your face, but I won't lie to my own personal journal.
I have never. Ever. Skipped. School.
I think maybe I did once.
When I was eight.
And it was because it was my birthday. Or something of that nature.
I have never drank.
I have never even seen pot.
I've never smoked a cigarette.
Never injected any addictive toxin into my bloodstream.
I guess you do have me pinned on the sex thing. With my boyfriend who I've been dating for a year and a half almost. Gosh. Ya caught me.
I. Have. Never. Skipped. School.
When I stay home, it's because I'm like this. Throwing up five times a day. On average. One time it reached seven. And then there was another time when I was throwing up once about every twenty minutes, so my mom took me to the ER.
But you remember that.
That was when you sat there and antagonized me as I choked on my own stomach acid.
"Maybe you can take your finals in summer school since you obviously don't have enough credit to pass your sophomore year."
Yes. You said that.
You probably won't remember saying it, but I remember hearing it.
I've come to discover that despite the fact that you are a good man and you love me, something about verbal abuse gets you off.
Well, Dad.
I hope you don't take out your anger on Shelley, now that I'm gone. Because she can leave you too. But she won't feel the need to come back like I do.
The truth? I really miss you guys.
I really, really do.
But I can't live with you.
Apparently I can't even visit because the last time I spent with you, you just stressed me out into tears after you left.
"No, this medical absence might come in handy if you have to go to summer school."
I hate that part of you, Dad. The part that has to say mean things to people.
Oh. And yesterday wasn't a Tuesday. By the way.
AND BRIAN DIDN'T COME OVER.
He doesn't even have enough money to come over that often. If you recall, he's paying his way through college without any help from his parents.
If my depression is this bad, I don't even want to know how you feel all the time. At least I don't feel compelled to talk to my own flesh and blood family members like they don't matter. At least I'm nice to people.
I've thought of suicide, but I don't think I could ever actually do it. I have too many people that care about me. Plus Razia's Shadow. I have to see it through.
But those are the only two things stopping me from losing it.
This is no cry for sympathy from some washed-out emo.
This is the truth.
And I can only pray to whatever deity is up there that you see that.
Friday, January 8, 2010
The hardest button to button
When all you do is your best and people still get pissed at you, what's the point?
I am 91 centimeters away from myself.
I am 91 centimeters away from myself.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Okonkwo had it right
Things do fall apart.
I moved in with my mom yesterday. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was gonna be, but I do feel bad about sort of sneaking out and never coming back. My dad tried calling me but I didn't answer. Not on purpose or anything - my phone was on silent - but I didn't call him back. I just texted him. I think he feels like I really don't like him.
To an extent, that's sort of true. Right now, I really just don't like him all that much. I still love him, but I can't be around him.
We had a three-hour discussion that included me, my step-mom, and my dad. Three hours, we sat and talked. I opened up to them and revealed my fear of the future, my heavy depression, my caution and sensibility with Brian, and I thought that they really understood me after that.
But then, the next morning, I had an intense migraine - one of the worst I've ever had - and said I was staying home from school, to which my dad's first response was, "Is Brian coming over?"
So that's it. At least for now. I need some time away from them. My mind is so screwed up right now and I just can't deal with all of his shit, too.
I moved in with my mom yesterday. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was gonna be, but I do feel bad about sort of sneaking out and never coming back. My dad tried calling me but I didn't answer. Not on purpose or anything - my phone was on silent - but I didn't call him back. I just texted him. I think he feels like I really don't like him.
To an extent, that's sort of true. Right now, I really just don't like him all that much. I still love him, but I can't be around him.
We had a three-hour discussion that included me, my step-mom, and my dad. Three hours, we sat and talked. I opened up to them and revealed my fear of the future, my heavy depression, my caution and sensibility with Brian, and I thought that they really understood me after that.
But then, the next morning, I had an intense migraine - one of the worst I've ever had - and said I was staying home from school, to which my dad's first response was, "Is Brian coming over?"
So that's it. At least for now. I need some time away from them. My mind is so screwed up right now and I just can't deal with all of his shit, too.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Gonna try this again. Maybe.
I'm starting a new blog about Razia's Shadow and it's probably a good idea to delete this one but I still don't think I'm going to. xx
I've been having a lot of emotional breakdowns recently. A lot. I'm semi-debating to move in with my mom permanently, but I don't know about that yet.
I really think I want to be a director, but I don't know. It's a hard industry. I don't know if I could face the rejection if I didn't make it to the top. I really love showbusiness, though. But acting is just too demanding. xx I want to be the one demanding and calling the shots. I'm good at it, as anyone can tell you. I'm definitely bossy by nature. I've been trying to work on that. :/
Brian and I have been dating for a year and three months. :) I love him completely.
I'm pretty much bombing all my classes. No F's but still pretty low grades. :/ Dad's pissed. I can't bring myself to tell him that they're not gonna get better until next semester, which starts in a week. He's just gonna be pissed and we're just gonna fight over and over and over again and I'm gonna dread coming home and feel like a failure. Again. Like every day I'm at his house. He'll probably read this and say it's my fault, which, yeah, it pretty much is. But sometimes it's just too much. And it's just too much right now.
On a happier note, I've discovered that Alive with the Glory of Love by Say Anything is my new favorite song. What's better than a song about sex, love, and the Holocaust? Actually, though, it's my favorite because of the music. The tune going on behind Max's vocals is really nice and contrasts perfectly with his voice. :) It gave me a new respect for the band. It's so funny because I've loved this song for years but only just now did I listen to it closely enough to discover that it's awesome in a different way than I originally thought.
I've started paying attention to the directors of my favorite movies:
David Fincher - Fight Club
Goran Dukic - Wristcutters: A Love Story
Stanley Kubrick - The Shining
Jon Turteltaub - National Treasure (1 & 2)
James Cameron - Avatar
Sam Mendes - American Beauty
American Beauty was the first sign to me that I wanted to direct. That movie is amazingly directed and written. It's just an incredibly powerful movie. That was the first time I looked at directing movies and plays as an artform.
And Fight Club's just the best movie ever. Ever. EVER. -spoiler!-
You think Marla's the crazy one the whole movie. And then it turns out that she's the only one that knows what's going on. It's genius.
I feel like pretty much none of my friends want to be my friends.
It's a crappy feeling. :/
When you see happy pictures of friends with friends and none of you with friends and you hear about what fun they had at that one thing you didn't hear about. And when it continues for a long time. :/ Maybe it's my inner emo droning and moaning about the woes and misfortunes of life, but hey. It doesn't make it any less real.
I'm gonna start writing a play.
I've been having a lot of emotional breakdowns recently. A lot. I'm semi-debating to move in with my mom permanently, but I don't know about that yet.
I really think I want to be a director, but I don't know. It's a hard industry. I don't know if I could face the rejection if I didn't make it to the top. I really love showbusiness, though. But acting is just too demanding. xx I want to be the one demanding and calling the shots. I'm good at it, as anyone can tell you. I'm definitely bossy by nature. I've been trying to work on that. :/
Brian and I have been dating for a year and three months. :) I love him completely.
I'm pretty much bombing all my classes. No F's but still pretty low grades. :/ Dad's pissed. I can't bring myself to tell him that they're not gonna get better until next semester, which starts in a week. He's just gonna be pissed and we're just gonna fight over and over and over again and I'm gonna dread coming home and feel like a failure. Again. Like every day I'm at his house. He'll probably read this and say it's my fault, which, yeah, it pretty much is. But sometimes it's just too much. And it's just too much right now.
On a happier note, I've discovered that Alive with the Glory of Love by Say Anything is my new favorite song. What's better than a song about sex, love, and the Holocaust? Actually, though, it's my favorite because of the music. The tune going on behind Max's vocals is really nice and contrasts perfectly with his voice. :) It gave me a new respect for the band. It's so funny because I've loved this song for years but only just now did I listen to it closely enough to discover that it's awesome in a different way than I originally thought.
I've started paying attention to the directors of my favorite movies:
David Fincher - Fight Club
Goran Dukic - Wristcutters: A Love Story
Stanley Kubrick - The Shining
Jon Turteltaub - National Treasure (1 & 2)
James Cameron - Avatar
Sam Mendes - American Beauty
American Beauty was the first sign to me that I wanted to direct. That movie is amazingly directed and written. It's just an incredibly powerful movie. That was the first time I looked at directing movies and plays as an artform.
And Fight Club's just the best movie ever. Ever. EVER. -spoiler!-
You think Marla's the crazy one the whole movie. And then it turns out that she's the only one that knows what's going on. It's genius.
I feel like pretty much none of my friends want to be my friends.
It's a crappy feeling. :/
When you see happy pictures of friends with friends and none of you with friends and you hear about what fun they had at that one thing you didn't hear about. And when it continues for a long time. :/ Maybe it's my inner emo droning and moaning about the woes and misfortunes of life, but hey. It doesn't make it any less real.
I'm gonna start writing a play.
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