Swelltide.

I have been thinking a lot the last few days, about everything. The course of my life, and where my life seems to be going. Childhood. School. Money. My relationship. Everything.

I've been in a really weird mood. Unstable, and off-kilter. I messaged a friend the other night, and completely broke down. I just lost it for about about ten minutes, which is kind of pathetic considering that there weren't any real words exchanged. I wanted something from him, and I still don't know what. I just know that I didn't get it.

This brings me to revelation one. No one really cares. Everyone has this idea of who you are, which is only meaningful in a context to other people in terms of who they are. If what you are going through, if your experience isn't immediately relateable to someone; they don't care. I don't mean that in a way of they willfully choose not to care, but more of in a way because their experience isn't like you're own, they do not understand it. Empathy takes real effort, a kind of effort that I am not sure that most people are capable of. If it does not effect them, impact them, affect them-- do not expect a reaction.

We are alone. This is an ideal that I struggle with constantly. No matter how you frame it, who you surround yourself with, who you are involved with-- you live your life by yourself. What you go through, you go through on your own. Maybe you have people around you to talk to, to bounce ideas off of, to gain a kind of perspective-- but life is yours to lead and only you.

What a terrible, and equally empowering thought, when you really think about it. So, why then do I allow myself to be so influenced by the past? Not by the things that happen now, but by the things that have already happened? I don't really understand it.

Since I am being honest, tonight. My sister is pregnant. I am excited for her. The freak-out that I exxperienced the other night has everything to do with this. And, it is kind a long story...

My mother was sexually abused when she was younger. Because of this, and maybe some other things (she says as little as I do), she is emotionally unavailable. I cannot have a serious conversation with her without her breaking down, crying.... I cannot talk to her about the things that other kids can seem to talk to their parents about. And my sister. My mother has taken a kind of pride in 'protecting' her. Including, borrowing money to put my sister through school, buying her a car, talking to her every day.The kinds of things that a parent should be doing. Only she doesn't, for me or my brother.

And so, the announcement took me by surprise and threw me for a loop. I have been like this since. Full of energy and anxiety. Questioning everything. I hate it.

When something big happens in life, I always seem to do this. Evaluate everything. Question. Why me?! I am getting kind of sick of it. Sadly, I no longer think it healthy for me to expect my parents to be parents. I will never get from them the kind of things that I want. Not material things. Support. A real, working relationship. I just want to know they give a shit, and I never will.

Swelltide.

Likely this will be a long and rambling post, for which I apologize in advance for those who continue to read.

I am still off my medication. I still have not found a new psychiatrist. I still have not put in the effort to meet with a new doctor, to discuss cheaper medication. I am still off of my meds. This seems to be the best way to start, to frame how I've been feeling or thinking lately. Maybe manic. Maybe depressed.

My sister arrived for a few days to visit with my parents-- and to announce her pregnancy. My mother seemed usually ecstatic (concerning any news that involves my sister). The guilt I have now... My immediate reaction aside from envy, was the thought that I cannot remember the kind of reaction from my parents when my brother announced that him and his girlfriend were pregnant-- five years ago. My mother standing beside my sister, glowing. Her dear daughter, pregnant... I was baffled, happy for my sister, and equally furious.

There exists no concern about my well-being, or my brother's. There has not been any discussion about my mental state beyond that initial conversation that I had with mom about being diagnosed with bipolar, beyond  a few passing remarks about how I 'seem' so much more 'stable' now. How difficult it is not to take such remarks as a kind of insult. She does not know, of course, that I haven't been taking my medication.

My mother, who was sexually abused as a girl, never seeking professional help. Knowing her, she thinks that this is a kind of testament to inner strength. Getting through life with all this baggage, on her own... I think it is kind of pathetic. She looks down on me, I think for having gone to counseling. She looks down on me for actually trying to deal with the issues and hang-ups that I have.

She made a remark, while we went out for lunch a few days ago, about a cousin of mine who once went on a national TV show for being promiscious. "A girl sexually active at such a young age, it is a sign of sexual abuse." I asked her who in the family... "I don't want to get into it." Why? What a white-trashy, southern thing to do. We must keep quiet about those things. We must never talk about those things.

Whatever. I am not like my parents. At all. I want to think about everything. I don't think there are things within a family you should not talk about. And, that is the ironic thing. My mom is fine discussing other people's problems. Never her own.

My brother shows up to the house today, probably stoned. It was a lunch organized for his birthday. My mom had some things to say about it. My sister had some things to say about it. His 'drug' use seems to confuse them.

One of these days, I will remind my mother that while she was ever vigilant in my sister's affairs, growing up she could care less about what my brother and I did, so long as it didn't involve court or the police. I will remind her that my brother's real father never has expressed interest in him. Never sends so much as a birthday card. My brother, who has been described as 'willful' wasn't interested in school until you suddenly decided, when he was seventeen that it was unacceptable that he didn't care if he graduated from high school. Never mind that you could care less the other sixteen years.

God! The anger. The resentment. The pity that I feel for my parents. Living here, so close to them is a mistake. Something that I need to think about....

Swelltide.

The isolation is killing me.

If I were were younger, attending school, maybe the social aspect would appeal to me more. Fraternity. Parties. Clubs. I wish I had been mature enough in my early twenties to tackle school, registration, financial aide...

Now, I rarely say so much as two words to anyone for most of the day. The days that I'm not in school, I spend studying alone at the house. Watching Youtube videos about physics or chemistry, or doing nothing. Daydreaming about what my new job will be like... Thinking about what it means that when I get back into the workforce at thirty-something, will anyone want to hire me? What does it say about a person who waited so long to get an education?

Still off the medication. Still haven't done much about it. Searched for some psychiatrists in the area, and there really aren't any. So, I'm going to have to make the drive to see someone. Called the old doc a few more times and left a few more voice mail, nothing. I think mentioning to her that I would like some more inexpensive medication may have been a bad idea.

I haven't been acting liking a crazy person, but I haven't been exactly stable either. Can't sleep. Moody. Either sleeping all day or not sleeping. Scaring people with the level of energy that I have, or having no energy at all.

Yes. So... That is it really. Still school. I haven't even popped into the office at work for over a month. Which feels really good, actually. I will probably work there over the summer and go back to pretending that I never did once school starts back up in the fall.

Going back to community college. I can't keep borrowing all of this money, getting nowhere. The supposedly sub-ivy league school... The teachers aren't that great. The administration isn't that great. I'm not getting any help when I need. So, I'm not giving them my money anymore.