if wellness is this, what in hell’s name is sickness?
I so rarely talk about my life anymore, that sometimes I forget I have one. That is, until something shockingly real happens in it, and I’m forced to remember that I’m an adult, and supposed to be a functioning member of society – and that, by all standards, I definitely am not one.
Good News: I was finally accepted into GodsGirls. Admittedly, I’ve been trying for a while, because hell – I’m incredibly comfortable with my body, and if I’m going to show it to people, I may as well make money for it, right? (That was a joke.) I like taking pictures and being sexy and all of the fun things that come with the site. It’s a way to be sexual and sensual and not have to be disgusting. It’s Naked Art. I like Naked Art. Who doesn’t? Prudes, that’s who.
Bad News: Virtually everything else in my life. On the same day I was accepted into GodsGirls, I received news that my father, whom I have been living with for the last two plus years (and who was diagnosed with cancer in December, for those who are unaware) is terminal. The diagnosis keeps flipping and flopping around, but the gist of it at this point is that he’s unable to receive treatment due to his weak condition (thanks to years of smoking and drinking, and an almost completely non-functional liver), and he’s going to pass within the month.
Insert crisis upon crisis here.
I’ll be completely honest. I’m 25 years old, and I don’t know the first thing about being an adult, completely on my own. I’ve always had my parents to rely on, and once my father passes, this is no longer going to be the case (for those of you wondering, my mother is an irresponsible, self-serving twat and trying to live with her would be the equivalent of taking on a dysfunctional, rebellious teenager). I’ve never had to live entirely on my own (though there were plenty of instances in which I was the one paying all of the bills and rent while living with aforementioned mother), and jesus, I have a 4 year old and I don’t even know what I’m going to do about trying to afford a real life all on my own now. I definitely can no longer afford New York City. What does this mean?
I have about a month to figure out where I’m going and how I’m going to get there, with no money to my name and a child to figure everything out for.
Emotionally, I’m an unstable mess. No one knows this, though. It has always been my role to be The Rock. An emotionless entity with endless shoulder space to cry on. Everyone is unloading on me. I think they’ve all forgotten that it is MY father who is dying, and that maybe for a little while I might need a shoulder, too.
On The Upside, my brother has moved back into the house. I’ve missed him, even if he is an immature pain in my ass. What are little brothers for?
On the downside, I haven’t slept right in weeks. I don’t know what to do about anything. I haven’t had a real job since January and as such, have no money saved for anything that may come. Finding a job is virtually impossible since I’ve got no place to put Lola, and no money to pay for daycare or a babysitter. The state of New York continuously makes me go on month-long processes including way too many appointments and then still DENIES me aide, so I’m stuck in this terrible rut with no way out, it feels like.
I’m absolutely terrified of what my immediate future holds.
(And please, if you talk to me, don’t ask about my dad. I know you’re all concerned and mean well, but it is driving me nuts.)
I think, for now, my only option is to move to Massachusetts. But I will, without a doubt, need a car for this. Here’s to hoping that something will work out for me. I need a beacon of light to show me the way.
Where are you?
