I haven’t enjoyed this bastard month on the whole, so I am glad to see the back of it.
I’ve spent much of it being frustrated, angry, upset, hurt, annoyed and generally thoroughly fucked off with too many people.
Yes, there have been some delicious highlights, like getting to see Son of Dave live, despite the sound issues he had. The Innocent Fete was on the whole, a lovely day. And wandering around bits of touristy London the day after wasn’t as hideous as it could have been:- I’d had no sleep the night before (boo), but I wasn’t hungover (yay).
The small matter that I completely pwned the arses off a bunch of poker regulars was, likewise, a joyous high.
But the emotional fall out that resulted after certain causes was the massive down on those ups. It would appear that I’ve lost a friend I trust. I have felt utterly shit about the whole thing.
There’s also been the continued anxiety over my father’s health and the wait for the hospital admission for his triple heart bypass. It hasn’t helped that he has this thing of not talking to me, another all too fucking common event of the month. We found out a little over a week ago that he will be admitted to the hospital that he will have the operation in on the 21st September 2008. He’s been quoted a 3% mortality risk, which everyone says that is good, but all I can see is that 3 people in 100 die on the table. Someone has to be one of those three, but that’s me and my usual fucked up way of looking at the world. He’ll be in for approximately four days afterwards, and then I’ll probably have two people to care for when he gets home. That’s if he doesn’t follow through with his crap plan of buggering off up North to stay with a friend for a few weeks. Why do some people think that disappearing is the right option?! Wish I fucking could, and I know exactly where I’d go right now.
Then there’s my mother who is becoming increasingly dependant on others. By others I mean us, the family, or more precise my father and me. She very nearly set the house ablaze the other night with her stupid insistence on not using an ashtray, which doesn’t bear thinking about considering there’s a full oxygen tank in the bedroom with her, and my father. She won’t let the nurses visit her more often to deal with her wounds on her feet and won’t allow anyone in to help us care for her. There was another pointless visit from a Social Worker where my mother absolutely refused all help. All in all, she adds to the general head banging that I’ve done most of the month, year, decade, y’know.
But then the really unexpected happened. A guy who isn’t a weirdo, not a creep, shows up on my virtual door saying he likes me. And I like him back. I had one of the best days of the entire year yesterday thanks to him. And it was my first date in over 3 years! He bought me a Radiohead cd as a present, which to those who are heavy into the romance thing won’t see that as being particularly romantic, but to me it was. There was actual, premeditated thought behind it, and that to me, counts for far more than the gift itself.
I am going to be true to myself on more things, not give in and keel over just because I will feel guilty otherwise. I’ve got to learn to let go of the guilt; I can’t be blamed nor held responsible for everything, by myself or others.
Dammit, it’s gone emo again.
Must write fewer emo posts!
Wondering what September brings. As much as I love Autumn, it brings back bad personal memories of life going very shit.
Edit, 10 years plus: Oh fuck honey, it was only going to get far, far worse, you stupid, naïve “teenager”