I’ve been a little absent again. I’m sorry. Things have been crazy lately.

I’ve gone to Baltimore twice in the past month or so, and I’m going back Wednesday-Saturday. Well, Wednesday and Saturday will most likely be spent driving. 12 hours of fun! My dress for the wedding is ready and fits, and I’m super excited for it to happen.

I don’t know if I said this in the last post…I could go check but I’m being lazy. I got a dog, Oliver. So he’s been filling most of my time. He’s eight months old and doing well, but not fully potty trained yet. It’s kind of a nightmare with that. I had him in this mesh enclosure thing I used to transport White Kitty down here to Georgia, but he ended up chewing through it and escaping. I do need to get him a crate, but I’m royally broke right now. This sounds insane but I am trying out a doggy diaper to see if that works at all. It’s mostly just when I’m gone for work that he has accidents. But we’re working on it.

White Kitty has been hiding a lot, which is kind of sad for me. I miss her. She’s taken to hiding in my bathroom cabinet (below the sink), so I made it comfy for her. Pillow, blankets, etc. Hopefully she comes out more soon.

Work has been…work. Busy. Hectic. Stressful. I had a job interview yesterday. It was a culture interview, actually. Second of third; if they like me, I’ll go on to the third (a resume interview). I haven’t heard anything, though. My anxiety has sky rocketed. I wish they would have told me something today. My boyfriend applied to the same job, but he had his interview on a Wednesday (and he heard back Friday). So I suppose I’ll hear back Monday? I guess. He didn’t get chosen, which really sucks. It kind of makes me feel bad. I don’t think I’ll get it, but if I did…I don’t know. I’d always feel self-conscious.

There’s a lot going on with that. Feeling self-conscious. Contemplating if I matter. If my opinion, ideas, or anything I have to say, matters. Does anyone really want to hear me, anyway? People constantly talk over me. Cut into what I’m saying. Why do I even bother speaking? This is why I stopped when I was little. I went silent because nobody heard me anyway. Why keep trying when it’s useless. Nothing I said mattered, nothing I did made anything better. I could wish and pray and hope with all my might, but it would never stop. Until it did, and I blamed myself anyway.

I miss my dad. It’s Father’s Day soon. Everybody coming into Starbucks is buying the Father’s Day gift cards. Tomorrow there’s supposed to be a group of thirty people celebrating fathers coming into the store for their celebration. I don’t want to be there for that, but I don’t have a choice. I ache to feel my dad’s presence again. I ache to feel his touch. I ache to hear his voice. I wish I had him back. And I hate myself for being jealous of other people who do have their dads. I hate that I’m so bitter towards them. There’s no reason for me to be. I’m glad for you if you have your dad. I just miss mine. I don’t wish this upon anyone, though I know it will happen eventually to most.

I hate the hole it’s left inside me. It’s a giant void I feel myself slipping into from time to time. Like right now. It’s a black hole filled with shreds of my broken heart. Desperation, longing, and bitterness reside there. It’s funny how you wish you had someone back, but can’t stand to be around anyone else who is actually here.

They can get it, they can not get it. The point is, nothing anyone ever says will make it better. And I don’t say that in a mean way…it’s just kind of the truth. It feels nice to have people care, and try, but no one can be my father, or bring my father back. No one can tell me why. No one can explain why that was necessary…a reason that would actually make sense to me. Why is it supposedly God’s will for my dad to succumb to cancer? He went out in pain. He left me in pain. Why is God’s will pain?

I wish I had answers. I wanted to be able to go to church…and I actually asked my boss if I could have Sunday’s off for school this coming semester (so that I could go to church in the morning). But she said Sunday’s are tricky, and she needs me to work. I close Saturday nights, so that doesn’t work for church either. Maybe one day I’ll figure something out.

I don’t know why I’m becoming to anti-people lately. It’s like I crave love, I crave having people who care…but I also crave sleep. And being alone. And not bother humanity with my insanity.

I don’t know what I want. But something has to change. This isn’t tolerable.

-June 16, 2017


3 thoughts on “

  1. You’ve been to quite a bit, I can’t imagine the stress load you are carrying! Then, on top of that, having to deal with yesterday’s celebration (Father’s Day). I still do have my dad but because of a screw up with my meds that put me down for the count yesterday, I only managed an email. I know you probably wish you had even that, so I apologize. I imagine that when mine is gone I’ll feel just as you. Despite having other family I feel like my Dad is my only family, even though he lives 2600 miles away (I’m in NY, he’s in CA).

    The reason I mention that is because I have a similar reaction, in a certain way, with moms and Mother’s Day. I did not have a good relationship with her, nor did I have a good childhood. Yes, I was educated and cared for but where was love? And Dad was gone. I had to cut her out of my life decades before she passed. I didn’t even grieve when she died because I had already grieved for not having a mom so many years before. Now, when I hear about people who have these amazing relationships with their moms, I simply don’t get it, I don’t understand and I rather wish they’d keep it to themselves. I hate Mother’s Day. I ignore it. I used to send flowers to my step-mother who is wonderful, although I’ve spent nearly no time with her due to the distance. I can’t do that anymore, send her flowers. She’s still alive but because of dimentia, she’s just not there, an empty slate.

    My heart does go out to you with so much empathy for your loss. It’s odd, even though my dad is still alive I already am starting to feel a tiny bit of that. He is 81. I should celebrate his heartiness but a part of me knows that the clock is ticking. Is that weird?

    If it’s not too intrusive, can I ask if you felt that a little when your dad was ill? Kind of like a pre-grief? I don’t know what to call it. I know I ought to face the reality of it but I can’t, I won’t. That wall of pain seems too immense for me to even acknowledge.

    Geez, I’m probably making no sense here and if I am, I’ve probably offended you multiple times. I’m sorry, ugh. 😦


    1. First off, I wanted to thank you for your comment. It really means a lot to me that you replied, even though we don’t know each other. It truly did make me feel less alone.

      I can understand what you mean with pre-grief. I was 16 when he passed away, but I think at that point, I was really blocking it all. I knew it was coming, but I tried to believe it wasn’t. It’s a really awful feeling to know it’s coming, and know you can’t do anything about it. I used my eating disorder a lot to block the emotions. I punished myself because I couldn’t stop it (his dying). Which makes no sense but that’s just how I coped. I punished myself for every thing I ever did “wrong” related to my dad. If that makes any sense. Like any time I made him mad, or talked back…things like that.

      And I completely relate to what you’re saying about Mother’s Day. I feel so jealous on Father’s Day, and wish I could even just say hi to my dad and not a grave. It’s hard that it comes every single year. Same with all anniversaries/birthdays, I suppose.

      Although there’s nothing people can really say to make the pain go away, with the right people, them just listening or being there really helps more than anything. So I thank you for that (and no, you didn’t offend me 🙂 ).

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Yeah, all those yearly remembrance days, grrr. My dad and step mothers anniversary just passed but I didn’t know if I should send a card. I bought one but didn’t send it in the end. My step mom has total dementia which means talking to her is like talking to the wall. My dad can’t talk about it anymore, it hurts too much. You see, he takes care of her at home. He started drinking to handle it, whiskey in the evening. He told me a few years back that he ought to stop because he needs to live longer than her. Wow, what a punch to the gut. He still has his whiskey though. My opinion is that he’s in an impossible position and is 81 so he can do anything he damn well pleases, lol. It struck me though – he turned to alcohol so he obviously has that need to seek outside “help” so to speak. And here I am, with anorexia. Hmmm, makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Maybe it was inevitable I’d end up with it.

        Anyway, I felt horrible for weeks before their anniversary. Should I send it? Shouldn’t I? Ugh. I figured it would just hurt too much whenever he looked at it so I didn’t.


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