My Life

It just keeps getting worse

Right now most of my days consist of living at the hospital.

Yesterday things took a really bad turn for the worse with my dad’s health, and I’m kinda a wreck about it.

I’m not really sleeping right now. Most days it does feel like a nightmare and I’m like zombie walking through it all. Just trying to keep my head above water.

I feel… scared, hopeless, and in a world of pain right now. I’m starting to push away everyone that matters to me. Hard. Including Davide.

When I’m drowning… being surrounded by my favorite cousins… that’s been everything to me. They make me laugh and help bring me back when I start retreating behind my wall.

My cousin Chicky and her husband drove out and have been crashing at my place. Tots flys here from Ecuador on Thursday. I had to convince her not to fly back sooner. Of course Tish hasn’t left our side either. She’s always so steady and reliable, I don’t know what I’d do without her.

So right now it’s just my support system is my sister, Tish, and Chicky. We camp out for hours next to my dad’s bed. We bribed some of the staff into letting us hangout in this private waiting room. We pushed a few couches together and it’s become a bit of a makeshift home.

Every other day or so- I run to Sidecar for a dozen gourmet donuts for the nurses and hospital staff, before I drive out to the hospital. That stuff is worth gold around here.

Davide is pretty good at being supportive and there for me. Yesterday he bought me red roses. At night he holds me when I cry. He makes sure I’m never alone unless I want to be. It’s like he stakes out, right outside the wall I put up and just lets me be whatever I need to be. He gives me space during the day, but even when he’s not around… he texts and checks in. Lets me know he’s around if I need to talk. I don’t feel like I need to hide any of the darkness that’s brewing inside me right now… I don’t have to hide it from him and he doesn’t want me to. I know that I need someone I can show the darkest parts of me to… and still feel like they have my back. That’s slowly starting to rebuild my faith in our relationship… more than any of the flowers he keeps giving me, which is sweet… but sometimes makes me feel so awkward, because he’s trying so hard. I love him for that… but I don’t want to love him because I feel guilty. I want to love him because I respect him.

Nate… he’s busy. He has this whole other life and whole other world… and I don’t want to pester him with anything. Some days it’s really hard because I question whether we really have a future… if he really does care because I can’t tell if he gives a shit. Then other days, it’s like I can tell he does without a shadow of a doubt. I know I’m likely reading him all wrong. I’m just struggling with the energy to keep putting in the effort on the hardest days… I hate feeling like I’m out on a limb all by myself with everything else going on around me. But something has definitely shifted between us, it’s just hard to pinpoint what. It just feels… off.

I’d like people to think I can’t be hurt, but truth is, I get hurt easier than most. I’m fierceness and tenderness, within the same breath. This is my beauty. My total lack of in betweens. Maybe that’s why I hide behind a wall. I know I’m complicated and I don’t expect anyone to care. When they do care… I’m waiting for them to change their mind and leave.

Chicky called me out of my shit super early this morning. I couldn’t sleep again and she was up nursing. She said that I always put on a strong front and act like I’m okay because I’m scared to need anyone. Scared of being abandoned so I push people away… because it’s easier when they leave when I’m expecting it rather than unexpectedly. She’s right, I do.

I realize that I’m shutting down, retreating behind my big wall. Just focusing on taking care of everyone else around me… rather than myself. Normally I’d try and fight through it, push myself out behind my wall. But I’m in such a world of pain I can’t even get myself to go there.

The New Daughter

My biggest sore point the past day or so has been my brother’s new wife. She just sobs and sobs and tells every person that visits this story of how my dad says she’s his daughter. She brought the family portrait from my parents wedding anniversary in November. The portrait I was left out of, but there she is in the family portrait… his brand new daughter.

I know she sees that portrait and sees something completely different from me. She sees her new happy family. Her new in-laws, that she loves. I see… parents who purposely excluded me from being a part of the family photo, due to religion. I see myself as being replaced. I remember that day so vividly and how hard I cried. How hard I tried to communicate to them that I was feeling replaced and not loved. That all I ever wanted was for them to be proud of me… and my dad’s reaction of “Oh well. I’m sorry you feel that way. But it’s best that you don’t come.” Fuck. I see that picture and it symbolizies like this lifetime of me being the black sheep and being excluded. I see red. I feel rage and this intense pain. But how could she know that?

I’m trying to chalk up the bitterness I feel to the lack of sleep. But it feels like a dagger to the heart. That my mom & dad could so easily give the love and affection I’ve always craved to… her. That he can so easily call her his daughter and tell her how proud he is of her. When he can’t even do the same to me. But maybe he can’t do it for me… since I’m the bastard child.

Maybe it’d be an easier pill to swallow if it made sense. If she was a good person. If she was kind, smart., or beautiful. I actively search for good qualities in her… but I find her selfish, shallow, rude, and annoying. Or how I somehow always end up paying for both her and my older brother, and she seems to expect it at this point. How when I get to the hospital this morning, she asks me to leave to get her breakfast so she can spend more time with my dad. Instead of her letting me get alone time with my dad- or I don’t know, taking care of her own food? It all grates on my nerves in the worst of ways but she’s the perfect submissive Mexican wife to my brother and my parents love her and openly give her the affection I’ve been begging for, for years.

Sometimes I wish I had been born that way… submissive and obedient. Instead I’m… headstrong and driven in all the wrong ways. I’ve come to love that strength in myself… but it’s cost me the love of my parents and it just sucks.

I took a break this morning after checking in at the hospital. Went to the beach, sat in the sand and just cried my eyes out. I prayed to a God that I know… loves me and all my stupid quirks. Even though I feel like I’m not good enough. I’m bad. I’m too sexual. Too headstrong. Too independent. I don’t even care anymore though… I just want my dad to be okay. Can I please just have that God? Please?

What I’ve been scared to write about

In reality all of the other things… they suck, but what I’m really avoiding writing about is Him and what it’s really been like.

They’ve had to resuscitate him multiple times now and he’s now completely reliant on machines. Something he always said he didn’t want.

Each time they resuscitate, it gets harder and harder to being him back.

Each time it happens I feel like life stands still and I can’t breathe knowing what is hanging in the balance. Will he make it back? Is this it? Please… don’t let me lose him too.

Then watching what it does to my mom…. they’ve been married for 40 years. Forty YEARS. My dad is her whole life. She knows nothing else. Each time we lose him, seeing the way she breaks…. that’s what hurts the most. I feel like she’s just a shadow of the person I’m used to. She’s so damn fragile right now, and rightfully so.

Then afterwards seeing how she has to step up and comfort my brother’s wife who is hysterical. That’s what really pisses me off. It just adds another thing to the list of reasons why I can’t stand Pilar. She treated us so horribly for six years… and I’ve forgiven and moved on… but then for her to put her 6 month relationship she’s had with my dad, ahead of my mom’s 40 years or even me and my sister. It pisses me off. I walk away each time. Thankfully Davide and Tish have gotten used to dealing with Pilar… because I sure as hell can’t and worry that I’m going to say something and it’ll be an explosive fight with my brother.

I feel like I’m constantly trying to take care of everyone else and I just… god I want to run away right now. Is that so bad to say? That sometimes at night I wish my dad was okay and that I could just get out of this town already. I want to be anywhere but here. I want to get on a plane and just not look back. The only thing making it manageable right now is Chicky, Tish, and Malia.

About Monica

Living in Newport Beach and Kauai. Survivor of crippling Anxiety and Depression. When I'm not cuddling my adorable dachshund puppy, surfing, or reading, you'll find me on here writing about my love life, loss, and everything in between.

1 comment on “It just keeps getting worse

  1. Hi Monica

    I would tell you time heals everything but that just be a deceptive response to reality ” the truth is the only way to survive the storms that form in our lives is through them. Because its the storm that teaches you to live and endured .

    Some wounds always remain open feeling the salt soaked deeper as reminder of your perseverance .

    “Even the strongest souls that emerged are seared with scars

    https://evolutionofselffeedyourhunger.wordpress.com/
    stronger-than-you-think/

    https://evolutionofselffeedyourhunger.wordpress.com/2019/02/22/after-shock-from-the-mass-left-behind/

    Cheers

    Alex

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: