personal ramblings

When I got out of the mental hospital, I decided to drop out of the majority of my enriched classes. It was a hard decision for me, considering all of my goals for college and scholarships, but the extent of my mental illness didn't allow for any more stress in my life. It was rough enough at home, considering all that was going on in my life.

I got out of an abusive relationship two, going on three, years ago. At the time, the girl was my "best friend." I thought she was the only one who truly cared about me, seeing as everyone else either left or didn't have the time for me. The problem was, however, that she treated me like shit. This girl would always control what we did, and if I messed up even slightly, I became the gum on the bottom of her shoe. She would stop talking to me for weeks, then make me apologize for something I hadn't done. I always blamed myself, too, because I thought she was right.

This went on for half of my life. When she stopped talking to me, I was in denial for the first month, then fell into what I call the official start of my depression (or Hell, if you'd rather).

Ever since that relationship, I don't trust people enough to allow them to love me. I've came to love others, sure, but allowing yourself to receive love in return is a harder process.

Aside from that, there's still a lot going on. My dad was diagnosed with squamos cell cancer of the head and neck January 31st of 2012. He had surgery, then eight weeks of radiation, five days a week. That, alone, made him lose his taste buds, saliva glands, and some of his lymph nodes. He also lost an extensive amount of weight, when he was fit in the first place.

As if it wasn't bad enough, when they took him in for his all clear scan three months later, when he'd just started getting his health back, they found a tumor in his left lung. They originally said it was the size of a golf ball. The more information they got on it, however, the worse it got.

First it was a size of a golf ball, and then the size of a lemon. They planned to take out half of his left lung, but within the two weeks scheduled for the therapy, it'd grown. They said that they might not be able to do anything if it was too bad. Luckily, they were able to remove his left lung; I guess you could say he's going to be all right!

After a cocktail of chemotherapy and radiation, two surgeries, and seventy to eighty pounds lost, my dad is finally starting to get better. His CAT scan came back clear of any growth in his right lung. They're mostly focused on him gaining weight now.

The dog we had, ever since we were three, passed away while I was in the mental hospital. My mum was visiting me when she got the call, and we sat on the concave mattress, bawling our eyes out. Our dog was amazing. I remember coming home crying in fourth grade, and she sat there, licking my hands and looking at me. She fell asleep right by my side, as if assuring me that she would be there to protect me.

You could have full-on conversations with her. She had the same sense of humor as I did; I could tell. She was sarcastic, sassy, and almost always sleepy. Needless to say, we got along great.

My adopted brother left for his navy training in march. My brother moved in with his girlfriend. My other brother has work, college, a life of his own.

A lot is going on right now, and a lot of the time, I feel like I'm lagging behind immensely. I don't mind that much anymore. I've become apathetic on the surface, like a lake in the winter; iced over, and ignorant of all the life swimming on underneath.

My feet move, though, and that is a good thing. I've began to learn that all I can do is take a step at a time. Sometimes, you have to touch the smoldering coals with your toes; I get that, and now, I'm trying to practice it.