So I'm overthinking again.. and this is the third time I've typed this, but I need to be honest with myself.
Do I get my own place, shack up with Kat's boss Jason (which is a situation in and of itself, and I will probably lose someone close because of the situation) and leave my mother homeless. It's moral, ethical if anything. She says she "can't afford to pay her own rent or bills by herself", but it's not like she can even adequately provide any support to anyone that she's staying with. Or so she says.
Which, the dire situation of her finances is funny. She claims she has next to nothing, but she still has over $1,500 of my own cash. Which she denies taking, and would defend with, "It's owed to me." The whole situation is naseuating to me, every time I think about it. She's leaving me with over $700 in bills, rent, car insurance, gym fees (work out room at school made me cry), food, gas, and child support to Thailand children. Her addition-- $100. And she wants to sell her car, and use mine. Then she makes jokes when I tell her she's not living me, about living in the shelter downtown. I'm not crying, nor will I ever cry. I have no respect for her left, and yet I find myself hugging her.
Does feeling this way make me a bad person?
She demanded to be in charge of Gramma's estate which she technically can't be, because of her past with various agencies (which she blames me for this...). She's willing to sign checks for my brother's hair transplant, but balks at Gramma for taking money out for college for me. This was promised to me while I was still in high school, and apparently the beloved uncle who loved to tease me to death, wanted me to go to college more than anything. Someone thought so highly of me, while a few people think relatively low. All they've wanted was for me to be the "fuck up" who stayed home and took care of them. We know what happened when someone thought I was going to give up my dreams, my life.
Then again, Matthew and John tells us, "Greater is he who lays his life down for a friend.". It's not just a physical death, but emotional. Financial. Dreams, hopes-- they're a part of this. Am I just being tested? Do I really have to give up what I feel so natural and right just for them? Is that what God is asking me to do?
I have my own life. Although I've never felt like I fit in, or belonged anywhere, I'm still alive. Buffalo isn't my home, and it never has felt like home. Other than friends and ministry ties, nothing is holding me here. My heart belongs somewhere else, because of Some One Else. I never thought of myself to stay in the area much long after Gramma passed away. I would stay until my Associates comes, but then I'd book somewhere else. Augustana speaks of "Boston" while I dream of North Eastern University. My heart has always longed for California. Utah, even.
How can your heart belong to a place you've never even been?
My knees hit the proverbial floor, and I ask for a sign to show me where I'm going is right. I want some proof that where I'm walking, and where I am with Christ is where I need to be. Any other existence means nothing to me-- my identity is found in Him. I read Scripture, although my memory isn't what it used to be, and God still speaks to me. It's His Living Word. "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever." This is not the race I'm leaving. My pursuit is still after God, even through the inclimate season. There is reason and purpose behind everything, and inspite of that, I will never really know what it all means. I see things for what they are-- just once I want to see things for what they will become. I want to see who, and what I become. It gives me peace, knowing that what I'm doing is exactly what I should.
It feels so liberating to cement everything down, even those thoughts I've spent months trying to ignore.
For the next two years, I owe my school just over $300. Which is cake compared to say, UB or Northern Michigan University. Later this week, I'm pulling a third loan for this amount. I hate debt. I'm pissed that my credit card got as high as it did. "Everyone deserves a nice Christmas", spoken in the truest form of Holiday Spirit. Mostly, it was all for nothing. It meant little, nothing even. My lap top, even though it's not that old, has a knack for picking up online diseases. The last thing I need is for my computer to be hacked while in the middle of a semester. My printer is already broken. Best Buy has a great deal though-- 6 months no interest. 10% off Computers. I can only hope to pull a 3.8 to ride into UB, or SCAD. Phi Theta Kappa... honor societies...
I've never had an issue with finding full time work. I've always been offered jobs while I was still on the clock for one I already had. Making people happy is what I do best. And that's made some pretty satisified customers. It just haunts me to think of what Jay/Sam, Brian, Shannon/Sarah, Michele are saying to these employers about me. They treat me like a stranger, a five uear old. I bent over backwards for every single of them-- and forgot about stuff I had to do to help them out. It means nothing in retail, because everyone is just trying to promote themselves and get ahead. So many of my classmates have this schedule-- I can do it. I just need the chance to prove I'm worth it. It was never about the money. Never has been. I'd much rather spend my time at HfH, Compeer. With my signficant other-- rather than spending time anywhere's else.
I'm trying so hard not to become what I've spent my whole life hating. That counts for something, right?
The people I want more than anything to read this probably never will. If they do, I risk the chance of losing them. Par of me wants them to know what's going on, and I'm extending the invitation for them. They want to know, so here it is. It seems harsh, but those who know me best know the situation on the homefront hasn't always been the easiest. I found myself saying this to someone earlier, and I guess it's true for me even though I never wanted to admit to it. "There's nothing wrong making people realize that what they've done to you is inexcusable. There's nothing wrong, really, for seeking justice in that sense." God has final say in Justice-- His role as Judge is greater than ours as Prosecutor.
What they did to me-- was inexcusable. I really thought I was over it, but I guess I'll never be over it. I'm sorry, but how can you lie to a human being about something for 20 years and blame them for it? How does that work? I've spent the better part of this year and a half trying to wrap my brain around this and I can't figure it out for the life of me. Why did she ever think it was OK to lie to me about my father? Why did my whole family lie to me-- they told me that I was a product of rape. That I meant nothing to him, in essence. And yet the man had the only picture of me in his dresser and looked at it every morning. If they didn't want me, they should have had an adoption. Abortion. Back alley with a coat hanger, whatever. Don't make my life miserable because of something that happened between you 21 years ago. Her issue died in October, 2005. Stop making me feel this way.
If the suspicsions were right about my father's family-- the number of people I can trust just dropped dramatically. I can't quite understand what would happen to me in this moment, but I can assure you, it won't be pretty. It wasn't the first time.
And if he is still interested after he find this out, I might as well have to marry the kid...
And yes, that means there's someone new of interest. "There's always someone of new interest", and there are protestors still advising that I'm in love with Dan. It's different this time. Really. He was in love with the idea of who he wanted me to be, who he thought I was. He never actually loved me, or showed any interest in the fact he had feelings. I was a secret, really. A dirty, little secret. I can't love someone who never thought highly of me. Idle words mean nothing. You can say something, and not mean a word you speak. It tears me apart to know that someone else I cared about never really had intention of a future. I can't recall how many times marriage came up, but how many more times sex came up. I can't remember how many times he talked about it, and how many times I said it was making me uncomfortable. Why the hell didn't he listen? He supposedly cared, why didn't he listen? It makes me feel like all he wanted was a, pardon the term, fuck buddy. He knew my past and what happened when I was a kid-- nothing mattered to him but his own feelings. So many guys have thought the same thing about me-- sorry for finally being excited to meet someone who doesn't see that when they look at me.
He's going to kill me for this, I know it. You said you wanted to know what was going on inside of my head...
Having someone look at you with interest, not based on appearances or "this is what she can do for me" has got to be one of the best feelings in the world. I can't describe it. For someone to genuinely care, it leaves me speechless. It's not that I'm placing him on a pedestal, but I have so much respect for this kid, it's crazy. He's had a pretty rough patch in life, I'm sure and it's sad to admit to how much we really relate to each other. It's nice not feeling like you're alone anymore. Call me crazy. I'm scared to admit to myself how much I like this kid because neither of us can rush into anything. We've got some interesting pasts and taking time, slowly approaching things--safer. You know me, I care about anyone that crosses my path. I'm not a bad person, and I've never been the type to say, "Well I could totally see myself dating him." Never even wanted that.
Why is falling love with, especially with me, so difficult?
Am I really that messed up, or is something else the cause of all of this?
In my hands earlier, was the 2006 Edition of Writing Agents. Had it not been $30, and had it not been looking for the perfect birthday gift for someone-- I would have bought it.
And in a couple weeks time, an agent would have been holding a few chapters. I would see ultimately if I were a writer.
And in a couple weeks time, an agent would have been holding a few chapters. I would see ultimately if I were publishing material. I'm already a writer.
(don't poke fun at me, So I end my sentences with propositional phrases and such. Run-on fragments and grammar accidents all over...)