I can't sometimes
This summer was a g******** rollercoaster, in the worst way possible. I am STILL not over it.
So. My mother was diagnosed with stage 4 metastatic breast cancer. It's terminal, of course. Of course, of course, of course. It's always terminal. I get tempted to say that everything is terminal but that is fatalistic and self-indulgent and I am really trying to NOT go there, even though I end up doing that a lot anyway.
I'm here, she's way, way far away. A thousand miles, probably more; there are states and states between me and the rest of my family and my father is taking care of her and he is /so/ tired. I'm here and I'm 20 and I can't even do anything because A. I am a thousand miles away and B. I am too young to have a stable job with the health insurance to support her so that my father (he isn't young anymore. he needs rest, damn it.) doesn't have to keep taking care of her at the expense of doing anything for himself. And I should be there taking care of her. Why am I here, going to college? I can't concentrate. I used to be this almost-straight-A, pre-med, highly dedicated and maybe even a-little-bit-intelligent student and now I'm not even trying anymore. I need to do well in school, dammit. That's why my mother wanted me back here. She wanted me to do well in school and do something with my life and that's why I'm not there taking care of her. What is wrong with me?
I can't focus on anything. I think about death too much. I need to get out of myself. I try all these things and none of them work. There are so many things. I try to keep busy and productive. It's not working and I don't know why. Aren't competent, interesting, successful, and mature people generally busy and productive as well? I'm so selfish and I can't stop it. I just want to be there and take care of her and love her and maybe I can have some time with her and my father before she goes where I can't follow, at least, not for a while. I can't write like I used to. I'm only interested in drawing. I haven't played the piano in weeks. I haven't called my best friend in a while. She tries. She doesn't know what to say, though. Nobody does. That's okay.
I'm too apathetic. I call home and it does nothing, because I'm not there and I can't DO anything, and I have to stay here and I have to do well and nobody understands. I tell them and I know they don't want to ask about my family because the clock is ticking and I'm watching her slip away. I went home for the first time in a month over the weekend a couple of weeks ago, and she is so f****** different from who she was even when I left for college.
I don't know what I want. A hug would be nice, though.
What are people supposed to do, feel sorry for me? I can't feel sorry for myself. That's self-indulgent and apparently, I am supposed to be an adult. I'm so tired. I want to lie down and sleep for an eternity, and then some, and maybe then I can wake up and everything will be forgotten and the world will be an interesting and beautiful and complex place again, just like it was before this summer. People have suffered through worse things that I have. I don't know what's wrong with me.
I feel constantly like there's so much that's more important than school. I have nightmares about her falling down the stairs because she can't even f****** walk anymore because that g******** cancer is in her bones and her spine. She keeps going to the hospital because everything, EVERYTHING could be a life-or-death situation. Stomach ache? Sore ankle? In a normal person, it's not a big deal, but in a stage-four cancer patient? S***, better call the paramedics. Again and again and again.
I'm sorry. This was a huge stupid emotional dump and seriously, I don't even know if I have the right anymore.