Open and Honest

In repairing my mental health I made a promise to myself and a friend (and maybe posted it here on my blog? I can't remember) that I would post at least once a week. I had to hold myself accountable. I had to do this, if I ever wanted to make myself feel pleasant again. I had to, if I wanted to get rid of everything I hate about myself.

So can we add to the list of things of things I hate, "not keeping my promises"?

I've always, always, prided myself on being a very honest and open person. But I'm coming to realize that I've been lying. Not just to people, but to myself. Open is not something that I'm good at. It never has been. Sure, I put on a good face. I talk CONSTANTLY. The endless babble that flows from my mouth and fingertips annoys the piss out of some people. No one cares that I just painted my nails. I do that two or three or more times a week. It's not news; it's not special.

Everyone knows about my family drama, and that's "personal" so of course I'm open, of course I'm honest. Except that I'm not.

I don't feel like I'm very honest. I don't feel like I'm very open. I share actions, but I don't share feelings unless they are the obvious sort of feelings. My last post, I really got into my feelings, and it scared me away from the blog for... how long? A few weeks, anyways.

And a lot has happened in these past few weeks:
1) My mother had a custody hearing about getting Lauren back. Originally I wanted to write a whole post about this. I am so torn, so broken up over this. Lauren doesn't know what she wants, and I just want her to be wherever she's most happy. I think things are perfect just the way they are: Lauren with her nice, big, family, and Amanda home with my mom (provided my mother continues to stay sober). Lauren visits my mom on the weekends. But Lauren sometimes feels out of place with Mindi and her family, and also feels obligated to go back to my mother. She misses Amanda when they aren't together. But then, at other times, she's so happy where she is. She's happier there than she ever was living with my mother, and feels obligated to stay with Mindi, because she was taken in and loved just as much as any of the other kids. Right now, nothing has been decided. I don't trust my mother, probably never will, but I trust my sisters enough that if the situation ever got dangerous, they would say something, so I'm okay with them living with my mom. They go back to court in June.

2) I bought an antique sewing machine. Remember how I said (or did I say?) that I had almost entirely stopped writing? Well sewing has been filling the creative void for me. I'm very slow, and end up having to rip things apart constantly. I've been working on this one quilt for ever and have to keep taking out stitches, but I'm enjoying it, and I have completed a few things at least. Anyway, the other day I was out with my future Mother-in-law and grandmother-in-law at an antique shop. I saw this pretty old table, and then realized it was a sewing machine cabinet, and then realized that it still had the old machine. When I found out that it was only $20, I decided I had to have it. The table alone is worth twice that, and if the machine works (it definitively needs to be cleaned and oiled first. Cobwebs everywhere and it squeaked like a seal when I turned the wheel. BUT all the parts moved so that's a good sign) it's worth a small fortune. I'll keep you posted on how that goes. I had to leave it at my MILs house, because Jeffrey made me promise to stop bringing home stray furniture. He's right. I do have a problem. I can't walk away from a pretty piece of furniture unless I know it's in a good home.

3)  I'm in disgustingly bad shape. I knew I was in bad shape. I've been in bad shape for years now. And Jeffrey hasn't been in the best shape either, so we decided to go for a jog. I didn't make it out of the parking lot before I felt like dying. I suffered from a headache for the rest of the evening. It was horrible and embarassing, but mostly, scary. I can't even run an 1/8th of a mile. I can't even jog that far slowly. I decided I wasn't ready for jogging yet. I need to get in shape, but I can't make myself feel so sick again. I'm too busy for that. So I went for a walk last night instead. It wasn't more than 3/4 of a mile. I was panting by the time I got there. WALKING. Not even walking briskly, but just walking like a normal person walks. Even at my previous worst, I could do that. I used to be able to walk endlessly without feeling anything. And now I cant. I'm scared. I don't want to be that sickly. I need to get better.

4) My coworkers have changed! I have worked at Wendy's for over two years now. And it's greasy and gross, and the smell of french fries has permanently permeated my skin. It doesn't wash off. Customers are rude asshats almost just as often as they are kind. It's surprisingly hard work, in a physical sense, and I don't particularly enjoy any of it. It doesn't pay anything and we end up with a new manager, on average, every 3 months. Half of them are jerks. My favorite manager was transferred about a month ago to a new store. We were really upset. She loved our store, and we loved her. Yesterday, I found out that she had been transferred again, BACK TO US! The new manager that had replaced her (whose name I never even learned. I never worked a single shift with her) hated our store so much that she threatened to quit if they didn't transfer her. So now we have V back and it's super awesome. I don't really have friends outside work, and she was the closest thing I had to a best friend in the area. I was heartbroken when she was transferred. All of us were. On night shift, my shift, we are a group of best friends. There are only two people I don't like.  And on the same day that I found out V was coming back, I found out that M (one of the two I don't like. She's a bossy rude bitch, and she likes to push and shove people. I'm clumsy enough on my own. Please don't knock me into the fryer.) had put in her two weeks notice. All in all, awesome.

5) And most importantly, and the reason I started this post, Jeffrey and I had a pretty serious argument/discussion. It started about grammar (just because I don't write much any more doesn't mean I don't still care)  but that was more just the surface stuff. What it came down to was that whole "open and honest" thing that I kept trying to pretend when it wasn't really the case. I don't want to go into particulars here, because it's fairly personal (I'm not opposed to sharing if anyone is curious, but I don't like to air my dirty laundry online so publicly). It was crappy, and I still feel awful about some of the things I was thinking and feeling, but eventually I shared them, and he had no idea that I had been thinking and feeling such miserable things for so long. There are not a lot of things I hate more than arguing with Jeffrey, but, as crappy as it was, I think it was probably a good thing. It cleared the air in a lot of ways.

And already, I'm starting to see that I'm getting better. My first blog post after the break* I mentioned an argument I had with Jeffrey, in which I said nasty and hurtful things. I didn't do that this time. I wasn't even tempted to. I didn't even yell. We just talked angrily. And it was good. It was awful, but it was good. We both have some things to work on, but we are working on those things.

I'm going to be more open and honest on here too. Because I want to be. Because I need to be. Because I want to be someone that I like, again.

______________________________________
* What do I call that break? The post I made on Feb. 12 feels like the first post on a brand new blog, but I've chosen to keep this on my old blog (because back story is nice, right?) It's like a different timeline though. I feel like it needs a name.

So Close, but so far away!

I got a message this morning on facebook from my sister, saying my mom had relapsed and she was scared. It was timestamped 2am. I messaged her back, and have been calling and texting, but I haven't gotten any response from her since then. My other sister seemed normal and unaware when I talked to her this morning, and I didn't have the heart to break the news to her. For a little while I was in denial. Maybe Lauren had misunderstood. A miscommunication. Maybe Lauren had a bad dream, and, half asleep at 2am had thought it to be reality.

I'm feeling really numb. I'm not really surprised, and I'm not heartbroken. I'm surprisingly okay. It frightens me, to know that I have become so numb to this. I would have expected to feel angry, like I always used to be. Hurt, offended. Worried, scared and heartbroken. Really, I just worry what this means for my sisters, how it will effect them, and I worry for my mothers internal organs. But as for me, personally, I'm only minimally effected.

I hate not knowing what's going on, but I haven't the guts to call anyone who might know. I keep calling my sisters, and I'll offer my support to them. They always will have me. But eh. I can't say I didn't expect this to happen at some point. Even the best of people, the most determined fall off the wagon a few times before they reach a safe, stable place. She was doing everything right, but sometimes it just takes time, and I could hear in her voice how impatient she was.

Its one of the reasons I didn't want her to visit me. I couldn't handle that sort of..... seeing her and watching her fall. I can almost bet that if I was home, I would be feeling something unpleasant right now. From Virginia, I worry. In Massachusetts, I'd surely be in a frenzy right now.

I feel unbelievably numb. I don't feel like a whole lot of anything. It's sucked the enjoyment and happy out of my day, but that hasn't been replaced by sad and anger. I feel somewhat empty. All I really feel right now is a desire to hear back from my sisters, to have them tell me that they're okay.

I was going to call my aunt today, just to chat and catch up, but it's been so long since I called her. I dont want it to seem like I only call her when something goes wrong. I had planned on calling her.

L is for Long Time Ago

Almost two years ago I wrote a letter to my sister that I just couldn't send. I was doing a lot of that at the time. Writing and filing away letters. It was before my blog, before anything, and it was my coping method. It worked to calm me down, I guess, but it didn't really do much more. It didn't help me do anything BUT calm down. This blog has done a lot more for me, getting comments, and also responses privately, that have given me great advice.

I have a lot of those old letters sitting around. Not long after I wrote those, I discovered Accentuate Writers Forum ( <3 ) and through that, Unsent Letters. You'll see the link to it sitting over in my blogroll. I don't know if you've checked it out, but you should. It's a whole collection of exactly what my coping method was. Letters that weren't sent.

I submitted a letter that I had written to Amanda, but I changed the names. I never heard back about my submission, and assumed it was rejected. I know Unsent Letters as a whole, had been put on the back burner for a while, because the woman who runs it had bitten off more than she could chew with it. She also runs the writers forum, and Twin Trinity Media which was putting out a few other books, and a few blogs of her own, and has a family and has numerous health issues, and I think I'm forgetting a few hundred other things she does. How she manages to do even half of that, I don't know. So Unsent Letters got put on the back of the pile, and I knew that, but I thought my story had been read before that.

I just received an email a few days ago from them saying what amounted to "do you still want us to consider this letter, after it's been so long?" and I didn't know what to say. In the past, I think I actually casually mentioned that I didn't want my letter read, if it hadn't been already. I had said that because I couldn't remember what I had written. I knew vaguely what it was about, but I have at least 6 letters to Amanda written in that same approximate time frame, all holding different details. Which was the one that I had sent in? Was it one that someone outside the family, who didn't know any of it would understand? Was it one someone could relate to?

So when I got that email, it was like little gift. Apparently my "please disregard" was forgotten and I had a new shot at reading it. I opened it, scared. And I read it. And I started crying, because even thought I remember writing it (or ones like it), I had forgotten how much I felt at the time.

I told her that I would love to have my letter considered still. It's exactly what it needs to be. If it's not accepted, I'm alright with that. But I'm also really glad I wrote it, that the letter was saved and set aside. It's a very important letter to me, reminding me of where I was two years ago.

I regret changing the names to fake ones. I used "Amy" and "Laura" instead of "Amanda" and "Lauren". The names are close, but they just.... I dunno. I want the letter to have our names on it. I didn't even sign my name. I just signed it "E."

The letter sis more than just remind me of what I felt, but it made me more aware of who and where I am now, and how little has changed, even though it feels like so much has. My worries haven't changed much. My feelings about the situations even less. But then, some things have changed. I'm not so spineless and I'm a lot more independant. I think I've grown up a lot since I wrote that letter (which is funny, because at the time, I felt like I was more-or-less done growing up. I didn't realize I was so naive until I read that letter. And I'm sure two years from now I'll have this realization again, and yet I still feel so much LESS naive than some of the people I see walking around. It's strange to me, how I have always felt so much more aware of things than other people, and yet never aware enough.)

Write. Every day. and save it. Because someday, a few years from now, it'll really make a point to you. And I think this will happen to me for the rest of my life.

G is for Grade level

In the district I grew up in, you had to be 5 years old before September 1st to start kindergarten. My sister was born in early September. We have a cousin, born exactly a month before, meaning, despite being the same age, they were always in different grades. This caused a fair few arguments between them.

But that wasn’t the real problem. The real problem is the kindergarten curriculum. ABCs, how to count to 100, and her colors. My sister was 6 years old. She was reading at a 3rd grade level, and doing double-digit addition and subtraction, and bring home coloring sheets with the directions "Color the A green."

We tried to get her bumped up a grade. Socially, she was advanced as well from a couple years in pre-school, as well as having several other kids in the neighborhood her own age. The school said no. They no longer allow students to be bumped up grades, not matter how advanced they were. (When I was in kindergarten, they tried to bump me up, however I was not socially ready for it.)

Since then, she has consistently been a grade or two above her classmates in school.

In September, she started 7th grade. A few months ago, she was switched to a home-schooling program. Last week, she was about to start regular school, but because she was in a home school program, they had to test her grade level.

Thursday, my sister finally started 8th grade. The same grade my cousin is in. I’m glad she’s finally not SO far ahead.

I’m also nervous. That means she starts highschool next September. Oh. My. God. I’m not ready for that.

C is for..... everything!

C is for Crazy, which I am. C is also for the Classes I take, and C is for Chelsea, my best friend. C is for coffee and chocolate, and cream. It's for custody. For children. For College. For Creativity.

I don't know what to write about today. There are so MANY things I could write about. Of all those C words, Custody is the one that jumps out at me the most, but my feelings on it right now are so.... vague. So up in the air, that I don't know what to do.

Two and a half weeks ago, I was looking up what the requirements were for foster homes, and what the rules were about fostering a child from another state. I was contemplating my schedule, seeing what I could change and how it would work. I was re-writing budgets, and mentally re-arranging furniture to make room for my sister in my home.

Something vague happened and she ended up out of her foster home. She was sent to a temporary foster home for the night. That's normal-ish. She woke up the next day and was brought to the DCF office, to wait while they looked for a permanent foster home for her. Again, normal.

No one wanted her.

No foster family would take in a girl with several hospitalizations in the past year. So that night, she went to another temporary house, and the next day, back to the office. And again the day after. And the day after.

Our mother couldn't take her. Her father wouldn't take her. My aunt can't handle her. My father doesn't meet the requirements. Our grandparents can't. Who else does she have left? Just me. So here I was. 20 years old and trying to get temporary custody of a 13 year old.

I was trying to figure out how to squeeze her in between my classes, or how to fix my work schedule so I had time to help her. Or at least time to give her a good morning and good night hug. It just wasn't working. I couldn't figure it out. Every time I found a solution to a problem, another one cropped up.

Do I make enough money to feed her? Pay her electric bill? Do I have the space for her? Does a futon couch count as a bed for her? Is the living room a suitable sleeping arrangement? Can our closet hold her clothes? How will I get her to school? Or will DCF insist on her having her home schooled like she is now? Will she be okay home alone all day? Does she need a private tutor?

and the kicker: I'm 20 years old. Will I be able to make her look at me as a guardian, or just a sister? Do I know enough to do a decent job at steering her in the right direction, for now?

Before I managed to find a suitable answer to my questions, they found a foster home. I was relieved, in a way that I now feel guilty for. I don't think I'm ready to be a parent. I already don't know how I did it when I was at home. Certainly, 20 years old isn't old enough to parent a teenager. Her foster family don't speak much English, and its lonely with no one to talk to in the house. But she's somewhere at least. I can't imagine how much emotional pain she must have been in, and is still in, knowing that, at 13, no one wanted her. I know how much it hurt me when my mom kicked me out at 16. But I still had one other parent to take care of me. She had no one. And I was older. She's in that awful stage that is the beginning of being a teenager. God, I hated being 13.

My mother gets out of her thing (more on that lateR) in a few weeks, and will get my sister out of foster care. The other is still with the family who will adopt her. That's the plan right now.

Snow, and day two of my big vacation.

I saw my mom today.

What?! I know. It’s been a while since I updated. I’ve been sort of floating along on my own. Letting things sit on my mind. It’s been weird. I don’t really know what I’m doing. I like to write blog posts, when I have something to say. A plan, an oppinion. Right now, I feel sort of lost. Floaty. I’m just plodding along without direction.

My mom called me about a week or two ago. I’m happy to hear from her. I’ve missed her. But I’m still angry. She understands that, I guess. We talked about it. We talked about a lot, today. I went to the center she was in. She’s doing well. She says its hard, but I reminded her that everything worth doing requires a lot of effort. I encouraged her. She said she’d stay in her program as long as she thinks she needs it, and she can afford to pay the rent in the house, and for the program. I told her that if money became an issue, and she had to choose between the house and the program, that she should choose the program. Do what she needs to do to get better. To take care of herself, of us as a family. What good is a home that you love, if it’s filled with miserable people?

I’m trying to encourage her, without putting my own faith in her. I can’t keep letting my heart get broken. I can’t do it anymore. But it was alright. It was nice to see her. I’m feeling strange.

Yesterday I saw my sisters. Manda’s been in a hospital for the past three weeks for an eating disorder. It sort of breaks my heart, but the truth is, I saw it coming. It doesn’t surprise me. Even over the summer I had back-of-my-mind concerns. I worry, but I’m relieved that she’s getting help. She got out on a day pass yesterday for christmas, so we spent the day at her foster family’s home. Me, Jeffrey, my dad, my sisters, and a TON of other people that are awesome. It was awesome.

There’s a blizzard going on outside the house right now. I’m afraid that ti’s going to ruin my trip. I want to see my sisters again, but if we’re snowed in, I cant. I want to see my aunt (oh jeeze, I need a whole post about that) but if we’re snowed in, I cant. I want to see at least one of my friends, but if we’re snowed in.... you get the picture. It’s just a hassle. I LOVE LOVE LOVE snow, but the timing on it is so awful. I’m not pleased.

I feel strange tonight. Really emotional, but sort of disconnected. I dunno. I just don’t know.

Someone Else's Battle

I'm staying out of arguments that are not my own. I'm trying very VERY hard, not to get involved.

But my 50-something year old ex-stepfather just called my 13 year old sister, his daughter, a bitch.
I'm fuming. I'm honestly ready to punch the wall. I'm so FUCKING ANGRY that it's not even funny.

And I need to dump this somewhere, because I know that I should not get involved in someone else's arguments, and more-so, because I know that if I said anything, it would make the issue worse, and get both of them angry with me, because they both deserve tellings-off.


Amanda posted a facebook status that she was glad to have her boyfriend back. Her father commented on it saying "grow up kid." There was a lot of back and forth, during which manda told her father to fuck off, and he called her trashy and unintelligent, she told him to leave her alone, and the conversation went on, for another ten or so comments, with manda repeating "leave me alone" and "fuck you" and Tony going on about how he's not a bad dad, and how it's our mom that manda should be angry with, and everything came to a head when tony said "you BITCH"

Without thinking, I typed out the following
"Manda- I don't expect you and Tony to be best friends, but at least try not to pick fights with him. No, he wasn't in most of your life, but still, he is your father. Don't swear at him, at the very least.
  
    Tony- You are a grown man. She is a 13 year old kid. There is NO REASON for you to insult her intelligence, or call her a bitch. I get that she insulted you, but honestly? That was VERY uncalled for. You told her to grow up, but you know what? She's still a kid. You need to grow up too."

And then I never posted it, because I realized that it wasn't my place. But my blood was boiling. I'm still tempted to go over and post it, but the time-stamp says it was from last night, and I really don't want to irritate the situation further, since it's somewhat defused.

EDIT: It's a day or two later, but the incident made a surprise re-appearance appearance on facebook. And then my sweet little Lauren comes to the rescue and says almost exactly what I was going to say "Shut up ur her father not a little boy so start acting like it." I can't say anything to her about it, because I don't want to encourage the general idea of being rude to her father. But secretly, I'm so SO proud of her for standing up for her older sister, and telling her father exactly how things are, without being over-the-top rude. Just enough to get his attention.

Employed, NaNoWriMo, and Tears of Joy

A few days ago something really wonderful happened. I cried, just because the situation was so unbelievably touching. I didn't post it, because even though I had tears of joy streaming from my eyes, I was simultaneously having a panic attack about a job interview I had scheduled. The interview is over; they hired me on the spot! I'm thrilled. On to the more important, more touching, unbelievably sweet things. The thing that's made me not stop smiling since it happened.

Small bit of backstory: my sisters have been fighting a lot lately. They actually got into a fist fight a few days ago that Lauren told me about.

The other night I received the following chain of text messages (conveniently connected into one large text block for you to read here, and all txt-speak converted into their normal-word counterparts.)

"Hi Erin, It's Mindi. I now have custory of the girls. I took them so they didn't have to be split up and I could help them. I need your help as well. They are gighting all the time. You need to explain to them I love them and only want to do  what's best, but they need to learn how it's done here. Tell them "don't fight so much." I am a good mom and I will take care of them. Erin, I'm so sorry you all went through that you did, but I'm on their side. I do and always will love you all. I just need a little cooperation. I can't have my other kids suffer and take a back burner. We all have to work as one family. Please help that understand that I wont turn my back. I just need us all to work together. Love you, xoxo, Mindi"

I nearly cried at the words "My other kids." She didn't say "my kids" she said "other." It sort of touched something in me. She wasn't putting my sisters above them, but she wasn't ranking hers above my sisters either. That she loved them so much, cared, and really wanted to make things work for all of them..... I can't even really explain what that means to me. I've known the family for a long time. Mindi's daughter has been Lauren's best friend for years, and I used to babysit all three of Mindi's kid. I've always known Mindi was a sweet person, loving, kind, and loyal, but this sort of melted my heart.

"Erin I love them and I will always do anything I can. I just need you to tell them to work with me, not against me. They got in a fight today, so I took their phones away, including Kenzi's. And now I look like the bad guy, but I'm just treating them the way I would treat my own kids. I hope they get it, that I'm a mom that cares and wont put up with BS. Please help me keep them. I'm afraid if they are moved, we weill have lost them. I really love them and only want the best for them, even though it's hard. I'm thinking of putting Manda in voice lessons and get Lauren on Bball."

I can't remember if I ever mentioned it, but Manda LOVES music, is teaching herself to play guitar and loves to sing. Last year, Lauren started playing basketball and loved that too. That Mindi knew that, remembered, cared enough to think about signing them up, made me want to cry. She's such a sweet person.  I told her as much, and mentioned how much they would love those things.

"Thank you for your help. I had to take their phones away today because they were so difficult, but that's what needs to be done sometimes. But they will have them back tomorrow morning."

I talked to my sisters, tried to help as best I could. Let them know that Mindi loves them. Reminded them that I love them.

And as happy as I am, I can't help but have a small part of me be so angry that my mother never stepped up to do for the girls what Mindi is doing. But that angry bit is small. I can't wipe the smile off my face, and I'm crying again.
 _______________

On a totally unrelated note: I've signed up for NaNoWriMo, and will be tracking my progress (including pre-planning) over at Making Waves, my writing blog.

Located: Lauren. Updated.

As of 4:27 (which is 14 minutes ago, as I type this) I know where Lauren is. I got a text message from a number I didn't recognize. Turns out its my littlest sister's best friend, and my sister is living there. She hasn't answered my text messages because her phone is broken. This is both good and bad.

Good because:
I know where my sister is, obviously.
I know the family well, and trust them. Also, Lauren loves them.
My sister has phone access, (although not right now because shes still working on her homework, and she has to finish it before she uses the phone) so I can talk to her later.

Bad because:
Only Lauren is there. She and Manda aren't together, and I know that being together was important to them.
I still don't know where Manda is
Or why Manda hasn't texted me.

But none the less, I'm relieved to know where one of my sisters is, and glad that she's in a familiar place, with people she loves who will take good care of her. Plus, they live in the same town, which means Lauren doesn't have to switch schools or anything, even though she isn't at home anymore.

Also, earlier I finally got up the guts to text my mother but she responded that she was furious with me. Apparently, this is all my fault. Awesome.

UPDATE: Located: Manda.
Two hours after this was posted I got a text message from Manda. Apparently I misunderstood earlier. She's staying there too.  Relief.

Cell Phones

It's now Thursday. I still haven't heard from my sisters. I've called them a bunch, texted them an assload, and still nothing.

I've come to the (obvious) conclusion that they have had their phones taken away. The question now is by whom? Both my mother and DCF are likely to have taken their phones away. I haven't been able to talk to them; I don't know where they are. My father hasn't returned my calls (the area he's in has no cell phone service. He may not even have gotten my calls) My aunt has no idea what's going on. I can't seem to get a hold of their social worker, and whoever answers the phone at DCF either doesn't know, or can't tell me. I'm not speaking to my mother.

Oh that's something I never mentioned before. I'm not speaking to my mother. I'm tired of letting her bring me down. There are three situations right now, where I'd be okay with talking to my mother, and two of them revolve around the girls, and would only be temporary situations. If she called right now to give me an update, I'd answer, but I wouldn't let the conversation move beyond that. If she did something to/with the girls that seemed beyond horrible (kicking them out, for example, although I pray she never does that again) I'd call and yell at her. And the third situation is if something bad happened to her, health wise. I love her, and I'd be there for her if she needed me. But right now, I think my presence in her life is hurting more than helping. I think I've become some sort of enabler, by always telling her that things will be fine and will work out. I think I've eased her of too much of her responsibility for what's really happening. It's hard to fix a problem if you think that it'll fix itself. And its ending up hurting us both. So I wont do that anymore.

Right now, most of my anger has gone away. But my worry still hasn't. I want to know what's going on with my sisters. I want to know that they're okay, and that they might just be happy.

And the Drama Continues!

Immediately after my last blog post, I called my sisters. The blog was a dump, so that I could talk to the girl with a clear head. So that I could tell them I love them, without bursting into tears.

For the record, it didn't work. I cried. Lots.

Everything is happening way too fast. I've talked to who-knows-how-many-people in the past few days. In a weird, backass way, it makes me proud of myself. I usually hate talking on the phone. I get really bad phone-anxiety. It makes me sick. But I've been able, for the last few days, to talk to all sorts of people without freaking out.... at least, not freaking out at the thought of a phone call. There's been a lot of freaking out about other things.


It helps, for me to put the story out here. Even if there's no advice, even if I don't get a single comment, it helps for me to just put this out here. It's like the blog takes this burden from me. Lifts it off my shoulders. It's like I make the problem belong to the computer, instead of to me.

But I've lost track of everything. I called my dad, expecting that my mother would have asked him to bail her out. I wanted more details. My dad didn't answer the phone.

I called my sisters, expecting them to be at a friends house. That's what my aunt had said. Turns out, later in the evening, not long before I called, Child and Family services went and brought them to foster care. They were in the same house. I was satisfied, with that part. I hate that they have to be in this position to start with, but I'm glad that they are at least together. That was why they didn't want me to call DCF to begin with. They didn't want to be separated. I actually called DCF to thank them about this.

I called them, and we all cried. Amanda didn't want to talk because she hates to talk and cry at the same time. Lauren didn't want to talk either, but she was the one who answered the phone, so she got stuck with me. I needed to tell her I love her, and that if she needs me, she can always call me. They didn't know any more than I did, about what was going on. I probably told her 6 times that I love her, and to tell Manda that I love her too. Eventually, Lauren had to get off the phone.

Not long after, my dad called. This was still the Arrest Day (from here on out, that's AD) He asked what I knew. I told him that I knew almost nothing. He didn't know either. He had been working off cape, and I was right, my mom asked him to bail her out. One of the first things my dad said to me was "She asked me to bail her out, and I did, but I think I probably shouldn't have. She caught me off guard, and I just reacted."

No, Daddy, you shouldn't have bailed her out, but I don't blame you. I did the same thing over the summer. Granted, it was probably a difference offense, but I didn't know what it was, when I bailed her out. I just did what I did without thinking.

He also told me that when my mother was arrested, she was showing no visible signs of drunkenness, but because my sisters insisted she was drunk, they gave her a breathalyzer. Apparently, they were very concerned by the number that came out. They let my dad bail her out, but said she couldn't leave until the next morning, because she was that drunk. I was unsurprised. My mother doesn't usually get "normal" drunken signs. She doesn't slur her words, she can walk in a straight line, she doesn't seem confused. Her drunken signs are anger, and being weak. She can walk in a straight line, up until the point where she's too weak to stand on her own. This is right before she passes out, at which point, that is her new drunken sign.

Anyways, my father told me that he was going to see what he could do about the girls living with him again. He even said he'd make peace with Tony, if that's what it took. My dad hates Tony almost as much as I do. I was stunned when he said that, but I admire my father so much, for being willing to do that for kids that aren't even his. I admire my father for loving people, and specifically, loving my girls, that much. My dad is my hero. He always has been,  but this, this just re-enforced it.

AD+1 day.
My sister is online, on Facebook. I message her. Hey, how are you, what's up, you feeling any better, I love you. The normal things. The things she'd expect with this situation. From her, I hear that they were told that they're going home on Monday. I was hoping someone lied to her. Hoping that it was a (slightly misguided) attempt at comforting her.

DCF wont release information on my sisters to me. They never have. So today, instead, I called them to make a request. As a sort of test, I asked them to keep my sisters together in the same house. They finally told me that the girls were going home, on Monday. Fuck.

AD+2, Monday, Today.
At a little before 5 O'clock I texted my sisters. I said "Hey, what's going on?" Lauren never responded to my message. Manda sent back a reply "nothn cnt tk bye" Manda's big on shortening words, but that was sparse, even for her. She usually spells out "cant" and "talk" anyways, and that isn't usually how she abbreviates nothing.

I haven't heard anything at all from anyone since. I've made a few phone calls, but nothing. Panicking? You bet!

Three

3 warrants.

Three outstanding warrants for my mothers arrest.

And she was arrested

Drunk

Custody seized

not one freaking phone call. Not from my mother, not from my father, not from either sister, not from the cops, not from DCF

From my aunt. From my aunt, who my sister called in tears. From my aunt, apologizing for not being able to take my sisters.

I don’t blame my aunt. I only blame my mother. But I can’t believe that after all this no one called me.

I can’t fix it. I know that’s why no one called me.

I’m so freaking disappointed in my mother.

I hurt for my sisters.

And I hurt for my aunt.

And my pride is a little sore

But mostly, I hurt for my sisters, and I’m angry with my mother.

And curious, as to what those three warrants were for.

Three
Freaking
Warrants

And some awful, guilty part of me hopes my mother stays where she is for a long time. Because my sisters deserve better than that, and if she isn't in jail, she's not going to give them up. How twisted is that? That I hope my mother stays in jail. I must be an awful person, and yet..... I don't really see it. I wish I could help my mother. That's what I feel guilty for. Hoping to pass the burden on to someone else. But at this point, she's beyond any help I can give, and I don't feel guilty, not really, for hoping she stays away.

Apparently, this is about Harry Potter

Pride, Anger, and other emotions

Lately, I’ve been super-emotional, but I haven’t been able to figure out why. Today it hit me. I haven’t been sharing. Not only have I not been blogging, but I haven’t been talking about things either. There has been a LOT going on, but I just haven’t been willing to talk. I put myself under pressure, trying to keep it all to myself, trying to “be strong.”

I should know by now that “be strong” means “do what is necessary to take care of yourself.” It doesn’t mean hold all that emotion in. It doesn’t mean you can’t share.

It’s not all bad things. It’s just an overwhelming number of things. Just as a warning: this post is going to be really long, and really all over the place. It’s going to be a dump of everything I’ve been feeling for the past month. Get Ready or Stop Reading. There are no other options.

Virginia. I moved back down here, and I can’t help but feel a little ashamed. Everyone feels like I gave up, and it’s so easy for me to feel like I’ve done so too. I don’t like giving up. I know, in my head, that what I did was the right thing. I couldn’t, honestly was not capable of doing what it was I wanted. I couldn’t make money appear from thin air. I couldn’t make my mother stop drinking. And since I was unable to do those two things, I was slowly losing my sanity there. I was trying to make the impossible happen.

So why do I feel guilty? My mother wont talk to me about college. I’ve decided to go to Hollins University, instead. But every time that comes up in conversation with my mother, she gets really angry. Shut up. I gave up the college I wanted to, and in part, I did so because of you. If I had a place to stay up in Massachusetts, I still wouldn’t have been able to go that semester, but I could have gone the next semester, or maybe next fall. But I couldn’t stand living with you, Mom. You made me cry EVERY SINGLE FREAKING DAY! That’s just not healthy. I couldn’t do it. So why, why, WHY do you make me feel bad every time I mention college. Shouldn’t my not being happy at home be my punishment? Shouldn’t giving up something that I wanted so badly be enough? Why do you insist on telling me how much of a mistake I’m making?.... and why can’t I be honest with you, and tell you how angry I am?

And then there’s my sisters. I still don’t know what to do about them? They don’t want me to call DCF. They will be separated again, and they would rather stay together at my mothers house, than be separated in a happier place. I understand that so very much. But it tears me apart. They deserve to be together in a happy place. They deserve better than this. Do I give them what they want? Or what I think it healthier? But is being separated from the person they trust most (each other) really any healthier?

The only person who I would feel comfortable asking for advice is my aunt, but I know what she’d say. And I’m also afraid to call her, because I also know that she’ll be disappointed in me for giving up my dream school. My whole family is college-obsessed and it drives me crazy. I’m going to school. Maybe not the school I wanted to, but school just the same. Why does it matter to them what school I go to? If they weren’t so nutty about it, I would be much better off. But I’m afraid to talk to anyone about anything, because it always comes back to college, and no one is ever satisfied with what I do. I wish people could realize that, at least so far as school goes, my choices are necessities, rather than choices. My mental well being means more to me than whatever school my degree comes from. I wish I meant more to everyone else.

And my dad. Things are fine now, I talked to him 3 days ago. But before that, I hadn’t talked to him since the day I moved out. I kept calling him, kept emailing him, kept getting no response. And I know he was around. He was commenting on facebook about thing. But never to me. It hurt me so terribly. Apparently, he was just busy, he finally called me, but even still, it stings to know that the picture of my sister’s new hair cut was more important than a quick “hey how are you?” email to me.

I’m not really happy here, if I’m going to be totally honest, but all the reasons are stupid. I think it’s more that I’m unhappy because people expect me to be, because really, the things here are okay. Jeffrey’s grandma loves to take care of people. She loves feeding people, and she’s very get-things-done-ish. She once folded my laundry, because I left it in the drier for more than an hour, and seemed pretty thrilled when I thanked her. She’s such a sweet lady. I’ve never had anyone even offer to do so much for me, never mind actually going and doing it all. She’s wonderful. In fact, all my future in-laws are wonderful. I love Jeffrey’s parents too. I wish we got up to see them more (but they live about 2 hours away)

But she has some habits that drive me crazy. For example, she buys things that she doesn’t need, because they have a low price. They aren’t on sale, its not an unusually low price, but she’ll buy 8 loaves of bread because “it’s a good deal.” It is a good price, but it’s also their regular price. She goes to the grocery store every Tuesday. She really only needs one loaf of bread. If by next week she needs another, she can grab one for the same price, since she’ll be at the store anyways. And she puts it in the freezer, to keep it from going bad. But not just the 7 extra loaves of bread. She’ll freeze all 8 of them, and defrost a little if she wants it. It’s really irritating, when I’m hungry. You can’t defrost bread in the microwave; it’ll get soggy. So I have to wait several hours for the bread to come to room temperature. It’s not just bread that she does this with. It’s everything. I’ve never been in a house with so much delicious, but inedible food. I don’t plan my snacks in advance, and because of that, I no longer eat snacks all that often. And I feel so terribly guilty for being unhappy over something so silly. The phrase “don’t look a gift horse in the mouth” comes back to me. But sometimes, I’m hungry and I don’t want to wait for bread to defrost, but I have no choice and it makes me cranky. I don’t like being hungry.

And the final bit, the thing that really kills me inside, is that yesterday was my sister’s 13th birthday, and she told me not to call her. I couldn’t even wish her a real happy birthday. It broke my heart. I don’t even know what to say about that. She wanted me to call in the evening, since she had plans in the day. I understand that. Makes perfect sense to me. I didn’t want to interrupt her plans. I texted her throughout the day a little, and wished her a few happy birthdays that way, but I was so eager to say it to her out-loud. I love birthdays. Anyone’s birthdays. They make me happy. So in the evening I texted her “Hey are you busy?” Her response was “No, but I don’t really want to talk. I’ll probably scream at the next person who tries”

“Are you okay? What happened?”
“Someone said something but I don’t want to talk about it.”

I sort of fell apart. First of all, who the hell pissed my sister off on her birthday? That’s not okay. I was totally ready to pummel whoever did that. And then I was hurt, because I wouldn’t get to say happy birthday to her. What kind of sister does call to say happy birthday? Ten years from now will she remember that I didn’t call her on her 13th birthday and be angry? I should have called, despite the threat of being yelled at. I mean, 13 is a big birthday. It’s when you turn into the dreaded teenager (which is a whole ‘nother emotional mess for me. I can clearly  remember the day Amanda was born. How on earth did that tiny baby turn into this teenager? And even moreso, how did it happen so fast?)

So yesterday I was dealing with that when someone posted a trailer for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I smiled. I really love when people post Harry Potter things. HP was more-or-less my entire life for a few years, and is still a very much loved part of it. I occasionally spend my free time browsing the Harry Potter Wiki. So about half a second after I smiled, I burst into tears. I wasn’t just teary-eyed. I was actually sobbing. This movie will be part-one of the very last Harry Potter book. I can’t believe its almost over. I cried when the book series ended, because it was the end. But I managed to remind myself that it wasn’t the end. There were still movies to wait for and look forward to. But that’s not going to last much longer. Since I was 9 years old, I haven’t stopped waiting, stopped anticipating Harry Potter something. First I was waiting for the 4th book. Then the first movie, then the 5th book, and so on. Now what? I have the last bits of movies, and the encyclopedia that JKR promised, and then what? That’s half my life that’s almost over. Anyone who knows me knows that I don’t like endings, even when they make sense. Even when it’s time for something to end. I don’t like books to end. I don’t like series to end. I didn’t want high school to end. I don’t like when songs end. When I enjoy something, I want to continue to enjoy it.

Stubbornly, I’ve refused to watch any of the Deathly Hallows trailers. I don’t want to admit that it’s ending. But last night I remembered right before the third movie came out. I was with Chelsea, and we had been working on a school project. I was in 7th grade, and the project was to design a plant. Yes, a plant. We called it Chrelesanie, which is both of our names merged together. That night was the same day that the trailer for the third movie came out. So as we worked, we had the trailer loading on her computer. Occasionally we’d stop to see how far it had gotten. She had dial-up internet, and it took forever, but I still remember that night, and remember how important that trailer was. I remember when the cover art for the Half-Blood-Prince book came out. I remember one of my friends on the bus had internet access through her cell phone and we spent forever trying to bring up a picture that we could see on her tiny little screen. I remember how much I ENJOYED the anticipation and waiting for these movies and books. I counted down days, and even hours. I have been to midnight book releases, and a midnight movie premier. And I think I finally do have to let myself watch Deathly Hallows trailers. Putting off seeing them wont make the end not come, but it will stop me from enjoying my anticipation of this movie, the way I’ve enjoyed waiting for every other book and movie.

I can’t believe I wrote more about Harry Potter than anything else. I’m such a nerd.

Virginia

Everything blew up. I'm going back to VA.

It happened so fast, that I'm not sure I even know what happened. Jeffrey's job fell through. I found out that for-sure I can't go to my college this semester. I got angry with my mom.

I can't afford to support us on my own. Cost of living is too high. More than twice what I make, just for one person. Never-mind for two. We have no apartment anyways.

And we're leaving. Only, now I don't know what to do. I told my boss, but now what? I don't know how to tell my family and my friends. I'm a little ashamed of giving up. Of going back. So now the plan is, move in with his grandmother. Find jobs. Move out. I plan on applying to Hollins, which is right near there, and going there in the spring. At this point, it no longer matters to me where my degree is from, so long as I get it. I need to be able to survive, more than I need to go to Lesley. Maybe I'll go to Lesley for my masters. Right now though, I just need to get out of here, to a place that we can afford.

I feel guilty. I promised my sisters I wouldn't leave them. I promised my dad I'd be back in Massachusetts. I promised my aunt that she could visit my college with me. I'm breaking promises, and in my mind, that's the biggest show of disrespect there is.

But I think that this is what I need to do. I'm sad. I'm guilty. But I need to take care of myself. Every hour I change my mind. Some I want to cry, others I'm glad.

Right now, I'm neither sad, nor glad. I'm just contemplative..... and hungry.

WOAH! APPARENTLY MY BRAIN WORKS IN SLOW-MO

I'm really glad I never let ANY of my family members see this. If I let my sister see this post, she'd slaughter me.

For any of this to make sense, we need to go back in time about 11 years. My youngest sister was born and it turned out she had quite a handful of problems. One of her kidneys wasn't working, the other was underdeveloped. Her bladder had strange sacks in it, which caused issues with her peeing and pooping (I promise you, as much as you hate diaper changing, it's much better than having a baby who almost never uses her diapers) and then her uterus was also wrong. Back then, when she was an infant, the kidney and bladder issues were much more a priority than her uterus. She had tons of minor surgeries, and three majors (two bladder re-constructions, and the removal of her left kidney) The doctors said that as long as her uterus was fixed before she started to go through puberty, that things would be fine. If it wasn't fixed, she would never get her period, and therefore, never be capable of pregnancy and "motherhood" in the genetic sense. Even then, the surgery was no guarantee that she'd ever be able to carry a child to term

She didn't learn this herself until she was 8 years old. The doctor mentioned it at her yearly check up. My mom couldn't afford the surgery. Lauren was devastated. We had a long talk with her about adoption (yes. we had a serious conversation about how my 8 year old sister could adopt a child. It was rather strange) and although she decided that she would probably do that some day, she still felt that it wasn't fair. I didn't think it was fair either. Adoption is a GREAT thing, but it isn't fair that it's her only option if she wants to be a mother. I like options.

 We couldn't afford to give her the surgery She started puberty. We still couldn't afford it. We were running out of time. In true Boatkicker fashion, I was panicking.

But it didn't matter. Two weeks ago MY SISTER GOT HER PERIOD!!!! (see? that's why she'd kill me. She didn't even want to tell my mom, never mind the entire internet. haha)

I didn't realize until today what that really meant. So lets all cross our fingers that someday, if she wants to, she will be able to get pregnant. (and lets also hope that day is in a very long time, since she's only 11 right now. haha)

Explosion.

Last night, at around 8:30, I started to a blog post about my mom. I'm really getting sick of her on/off drinking. I'm tired of knowing she downed a half liter bottle in one day, and then watching her hands shake all the next day.  I'm tired of knowing that the colds she keeps getting, causing her to spend the day sleeping, are actually hangovers. I want to do something about it. Talking to her didn't work last time I tried. I don't know of another way of doing it, without uprooting my family.

Right now though, it doesn't matter anymore, what the right thing to do is. Right now, I'm too hurt to even think about doing anything. I just want to cry. I'm hoping that sharing will help. There was a huge fight last night, and the only way that I think I can feel better is to type out the whole thing bit by bit.


I wake up at 5am to go to work, so I try to get in bed by 10. Last night, dinner was late (9) and I went immediately from dinner to showering. I planned to go straight to bed after. When I got out of the shower, though, my sister said my mom was looking to talk to all three of us at the same time.


She started SCREAMING at us, all three of us, for not unloading the dishwasher. I was annoyed. I hate being yelled at. I told her, as politely as I could, that in the future, she can tell us without yelling. Turns out, there isn't really a polite way to say that.


She didn't let any of us get up to do the dishwasher, even though her open floor plan would have allowed for someone to do the dishwasher, while being yelled at. She turned to Amanda and went off on her too. Manda had just been on vacation for 3 weeks, and had forgotten that she had a new once-a-week chore. She was only told about this chore a few days before she left. She hadn't even had a chance to do it for the first time.


My mom yelled at Amanda for a few minutes, and poor Manda had no idea what my mom was yelling at her about. She didn't remember at all what her chore was. And my mom kept making her guess what she was supposed to be doing. Eventually I blurted it out, and my mom flipped out on me again.

She kept switching back and forth, from yelling at me to yelling at Manda. After a few minutes of back and forth, Manda said something that broke my heart. "I should have just jumped off the roof that day. I should have just killed myself when I had the chance." I remember that day. I was in Virginia still, but my mom called me to tell me what was going on. It terrified me then, but hearing it come from Manda's own mouth was worse.

And they started arguing more, but I couldn't handle it any more. I started screaming, that I couldn't do it. That I couldn't listen to them argue like this. My mom said "This is hte only way we can fix this! We have to have this argument!" and I told her that I couldn't. I could handle the chore argument. I couldn't handle listening to her screech at my sister, and really really couldn't handle listening to my sister half-threaten suicide. When I started yelling, Lauren burst into tears too. Now all four of us were crying.

I walked off, and my mom told me that if I left, I wasn't coming back, and I would have to move out. I changed my mind mid-step, but kept walking, turning towards the bathroom to blow my nose, which was running because I was crying.

I spent as much time as I could blowing my nose, and blowing as loud as I could to drown them out.

I stopped blowing just in time to hear Manda say "I hate it here. I hate everyone in this family. I never have felt like I belonged. None of you like me."

And somehow, even though I was angry at my mother, I started shouting at my sister. I love her. She didn't seem to get that. Instead she mentioned something that a non-family member had said to her, about how she was going to ruin everyone she came in contact with.

No matter what I said, it didn't matter. She repeated herself several times about how we all hated her, and how it was our fault that she hated herself. I kept repeating myself too. "What about me? Don't you know I don't hate you? I love you, Manda." It didn't seem to do any good.

Meanwhile, my mom was still yelling, yelling over us, and ignoring the fact that this was happening. She kept yelling at Manda about her chores. I interrupted again, just about as loud as I could, which wasn't very loud because my throat was hurting already from crying. "This is why I can't listen to you two argue. Do you hear what Manda is saying? Do you hear what you're saying? I can't do this!"

And then I apologized to Manda, because I really was sorry. I had never ever meant to let her feel that way. I wish I had known a long time ago that she felt that way, and I can't help but blame myself. I went over to give manda a hug with my apology. She pushed me away and wouldn't even look at me.

I tried to redeem myself. Instead of running away from it, like I wanted to, I stayed. I stood up for them. But it was too little, too late. And then when my mom finally let us go, I emptied the dishwasher, and had to go to bed. I couldn't even stay up to make my sisters feel better. Manda was still crying when I went to bed.

And now my mother is giving all of us the silent treatment, which just really PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF! I can understand her giving it to me. After I apologized to Manda, I tore my mother a new one. But Manda and Lauren, I just don't understand. Lauren didn't even do anything. Manda got angry with her, but Manda is just a kid. Was she out of line? Yes. Both of them were. Is this a good way for my mother to handle it? No, not at all.

As I was writing this, Manda messaged me and told me she thinks my mom is drinking. I already know she is, and so does Lauren. My sisters and I are going to have a talk all together soon to figure out what to do. I want to call DCF/DSS/whatever, and get them out of here. But I know that when I was there age, I would have hated if anyone did that to me. So I want to know what they want. I'm moving out soon anyways, so all that matters to me is that they are okay once I leave. And I want them to know that I will ALWAYS be there for them. That I love them.

This is NOT a good situation.

Good News!

Good news! Lots of it!

1) My mother has had walking pneumonia for almost two months. I know, that doesn't sound good, right? But it is, because when she started to get sicker, a couple days ago, she stopped drinking. She was in such bad shape she could hardly breath, and I think it scared her almost as much as it scared me. But she hasn't drank at all since then (She has one unopened bottle. I don't know what to do with it yet. She's staying home  sick today, or else I'd throw it out or something, but I did get a chance to check and see that it was still unopened. I confronted her the other day and that did nothing, but more about that later.) And she's on antibiotics now, so she'll be better fine. She's miserable right now (understandably so. She's still coughing her lungs out) but hopefully in a few days she'll be good again, and hopefully a few alcohol free days will make her think a little more clearly and keep her from drinking more.

2) I got a job! It took me three years worth of effort to get something as simple as a grocery store position, but I'm relieved. I have a job. I will be getting a pay check. WOOOO!

3) I saw Lauren! Only for a few minutes, but tomorrow (after I get my work schedule) I'm going to make plans to see her next week. I also saw my uncle and cousin for a few seconds, which was nice. Lauren is also coming over on sunday, from about 9-2ish.

4) I'm going to Sturgis tomorrow, taking the bus in (catching up with my old bus driver) and then seeing friends and teachers and what not. This weekend is graduation, and I'm going. (although I'm starting to panic. work schedules are from sun-sat, and graduation is sunday (at two. works out perfect!) What if they make me work? AHHHH. maybe they'll have scheduled me for an early shift or something. that would be fine. or a late one. If not, I'm going ot miss graduation and that would be really sad.)

Anyways, I'm feeling significantly better today than I was a few days ago. Thank you all.

Busy Weekend

It's been a busy busy busy weekend. I did that one update on my blog, and that took up almost all my free time this entire weekend.

Saturday morning I got a sunburn! No, actually saturday morning was my wonderful fiance Jeffrey's graduation. I'm super proud of him. He was recognized separately from the rest of the students graduating in his major, because he was named Deans Scholar, among other honors. Meanwhile, my sunscreen apparently was faulty. Brand new that morning, applied twice in 6 hours, and yet I still got a KILLER sunburn. It still hurts terribly.

My mother and one of my sisters came down for his graduation and stayed around Sunday. I'm not sure my mom had a good time. She seemed to be enjoying herself but every now and then she'd get really quiet and look annoyed. I wonder if its because we were always in a big crowd, and she and I got no one-on-one time. I guess that's my fault, for suggesting she stay at Jeffrey's grandma's house. It was nice though. I had a great weekend with my sister and mom, and mothers day was fun.

Today though, today was a scary day for me. I am (was?) taking four classes. Three of my final exams were scheduled for today. History, which I was not worried about. English, which I was mostly not worrysome, but my teacher is a grammar-lover, and she has all sorts of fancy grammar terms which I never knew. I knew how to use proper grammar, and I knew what was wrong and why, but I never knew things had fancy names. I was afraid I'd forget some of those. Then I had Physics, which SCARED THT CRAP OUT OF ME! I was sure I was going to fail it. I didn't know electricity. I barely knew waves. Lenses? Mirrors? GAH!  On top of all I had no sleep for two days (the sunburn is all over my back and shoulders. I am one of those toss-in-your-sleep types, and each time I'd try to roll I'd wake myself up in pain. Not fun!) I had no time to study over the weekend, because of all the events and familyness. I was sure I was going to fail everything.

But it turns out, the history test was as easy as I predicted. The English test was better than I thought (mostly she asked us about how the rules worked, and not what they were called. yay!) and the physics test. Oh boy. It was crazy. And by crazy, I mean EASY! It was the easiest test I had taken in that class all semester. I was so relieved.

After doing so well on my exams, while being tired and in sunburn pain, I feel like I can do anything! So what am I going to do now? Now I have made an official statement to write 500-1000 words of The Circle before bedtime. And not just any words, but good words. Ones that make sense. I feel like I can do anything!

Too Many Kittens!!!

I love kittens. They’re sweet, soft, small, and it’s so funny to watch them learn and play. But there comes a time when they are just too much. My mother has this belief that a female cat should not be fixed until after she had given birth to a litter. In the past three years we have had four female cats who were unfixed, three at my mothers house and one at my fathers. That means three little litters of kittens, Shyla had 6 kittens, Storm had 2, and Charlotte had 4. My father does not share the first-litter belief, but a friend of him tricked him into not getting his cat Sophie fixed immediately either because she (the friend) wanted a kitten. Sophie had five kittens.

You can’t get a cat fixed when it’s nursing, so at my mothers we were trying to keep the cats in after they had their litters. At some point Shyla snuck out and got pregnant before her kittens were old enough to stop nursing. That’s another litter with 4 kittens.

Charlotte’s kittens were born about a year later than Storm or Shyla. After her first litter my mother called the vet to check the price of getting her fixed. The vet told her $50. She set that aside and made an appointment, but spent most of the rest of the money she had saved on getting a new car, and my sister’s birthday. The day of the appointment came, and the vet told my mom that it would cost four times the price originally planned. My mother didn’t have $200, so instead she became SUPER CAREFUL of keeping all the doors and windows closed to keep Charlotte in the house.

That worked, until recently. My sister accidentally let Charlotte out through a window. Now we’re expecting kittens. Again.

I can understand my mother keeping the door and windows shut for a short-term fix, but she has had the money now to get Charlotte fixed for quite some time. She just didn’t. I love kittens, but this really is getting ridiculous.

My mother expects them to be born right around the same time I move home. I will love the kittens, play with them, and cuddle their fuzziness. But I also will personally take Charlotte to get fixed if my mother doesn’t do it as soon as the babies stop nursing.

Trust Issues

I've always been a little too trusting in people. I have a little too much faith. I have always expected people to do the right things, even if they have proven over and over that they don't do them. It only takes a few short conversations to get me to spill my whole life story to someone.

But last night I realized I DON'T trust one of the few people who have never given me a reason to doubt them. My sister.

She's never done anything that's really "wrong." The worst thing I've seen her do was yelling at me over something stupid, but we're sisters and people tell me that fighting is normal. I've seen her not do her chores, and get mad when told to do them, but that anger is the sort that manifests in a death-glare at the plates. Is giving a mean look to a dish wrong? Of course not. Is it wrong to forget to do your chores? Not really. I'm a scatterbrain, and at her age I had to be reminded EVERY DAY to do my chores. Sometimes I wasn't friendly with the plates either.

She's 12 years old, in 6th grade, consistently makes the honor roll, auditioned and got into some fancy chorus. She's smart, and strong, and beautiful. She's modest about her achievements, but also proud. She's friendly and silly. She doesn't get in trouble for anything more serious than the above mentioned things.

But for some reason I don't trust her. I tell myself everything will be fine. I know that she has a good head on her shoulders. But something in me worries that she will seriously screw up. She's got a lot of friends who aren't what you typically think of as the good kids. The bad influences. But who am I to let that bother me? I hung out with worse kids than she did. I had a friend who started doing coke when she was 13. I had another friend who had her first pregnancy scare. I had friends who stole, drank, and did a ton of pot. I turned out just fine, and my sister has a good head on her shoulders, so she should turn out fine too.

I'm trying. Right now I'm pretending, but I'm trying. She has a new boyfriend who she wont tell me anything about. He's 15, a freshman at my old high school. I've asked around about him, and haven't heard anything good yet. But I need to trust my sister. My mom knows, and is okay with it, so why can't I be?