Out of sorts

Disclaimer: I may end up being all over the place below. You have been duly warned.

Linden and I have struck up a deal to badger (err, encourage) each other to post on our respective journals (aka blog (verb)) more regularly. The first condition of said deal was that we would each post at least once this weekend. Linden, being forward-thinking and proactive, has already posted twice this weekend, whereas here I am, living on the edge, starting my endeavor at 11:40pm Sunday night. How representative of my life.

Things have been rough, but I'll start out with the good, for once, since the bad leaves me confused and listless.

Fun Times
The Winter Olympics are on! Normally this wouldn't be much cause for excitement for me personally, mostly because until this year, I barely acknowledged the existence of the Winter Olympics, for no good reason. This year, though, my sister was really excited about it, so I decided to indulge a little. We sadly missed the opening ceremonies b/c our cable was out, but we got to watch the first (and now second) day of events, at least in part.

Speed skating, short track? AWESOME. Apolo Ohno and J.R. Celski were so cool to watch! And Celski is kinda cute =D Also majorly impressive, considering he nearly bled out on the ice six months ago (his right skate cut his left leg, barely missing his femoral artery -- for context, if you cut your femoral artery in the leg, you bleed out to death in about 10 seconds). They got silver and bronze, respectively. Women's moguls, Hannah Kearney got the US its first gold by beating out the Canadian favorite Jennifer Hiel, and her skiing was just so much fun to watch. Today, the Chinese couple that's returning from retirement trying to make a comeback in figure skating (and win the Olympic gold, the only medal missing from their arsenal) posted the world record highest score in pairs short program; they were breathtaking on the ice, so beautiful together, so perfect. A couple other pairs came close, but they were just too good.

Confusing Times
When I'm at school, I wish I were at home. When I'm at home, I wish I were at school. I wish that were as deep as my confusion went, but sadly, that's completely not the case. The reason behind it is my grandfather.

His condition is worsening. I guess that's a given, something of an obvious statement, since he definitely isn't going to get better at any point. I won't qualify that with "in the near future" because that would just be me attempting to leave myself some false hope, and I can't deal with that on top of everything else.

It's wearing on my parents, significantly. I didn't realize the true extent of what they have to deal with multiple times a day every single day until last night. I woke my mom up at 1:30am (she was asleep on the couch downstairs), she went to check on my grandfather, and... well, I won't share the details, because they are really rather unpleasant and severely disconcerting. Suffice to say, it was a minimum hour of cleaning him, his sheets, his covers, his room overall, his bathroom. He was aggressive and violent, twisting my mom's arm, shoving me away, yelling at us, cursing us out. I wish that were the worst of it.

It's wearing on my sister, academically, emotionally, mentally. Me, too, but not as much, because I'm not home every day, I don't deal with this constantly. There is nary a moment of peace in our house, because if he's not requiring immediate attention, he's singing at the top of his voice, or yelling at imaginary people, or clapping. I don't begrudge him his speech and outbursts, because truly, they are all he has. But on top of everything else, sometimes it's just the tiniest bit too much.

I already feel guilty just writing about all of that. I love my grandfather, so much. I miss him, so much. This is becoming almost unbearably difficult. I don't know what the appropriate response is. I don't know how to compartmentalize this, or react to it, period. I feel so lost. I try and talk to my mom about it on rare occasions, but for once, she's not an objective listener; in fact, she's deeper in the trenches, so to speak, than I am, and most of the time, I just avoid bringing up my feelings and reactions to her, because I know she has enough to deal with already.

I've felt the impact on myself over the past semester. It's senior year, and I want to enjoy it, but I feel guilty doing so. I've noticed myself withdrawing from social interactions more and more, withdrawing into myself. I read more random articles, watch more videos, as a way of engaging in escapism in a "safer" way than getting out more, having fun, because when I laugh and kick back with my friends, I can't help the pangs of guilt, of shame, of regret. So I just avoid putting myself in those situations. It's starting to wear me thin, and I know an easy way to fix that would be to talk to my friends more, spend more time with them, but I hesitate to do that. I could unload to them, but sometimes, again with guilt, I find myself hesitating because I know they won't really understand, and it upsets me -- their lack of understanding, and then I get angry at myself for getting upset about that, because it's not their fault, and I genuinely hope they never have occasion for knowing and understanding. And despite that, I do talk sometimes about bits and pieces of it, and I do feel better. I don't know whether I have a right to ask for more.

Why do I feel so lost?



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Now playing: Santana Featuring Chad Kroeger - Into The Night
via FoxyTunes