Tired...

I feel tired. I have no motivation and I am exhausted all the time. From what, I have no idea. I get 7-8 hours of sleep a night but I can't get out of bed in the morning. I set my alarm for 7 AM and press snooze until 9, sometimes later. I have no desire to go to work, clean, study, or God forbid I should go to the gym.

My grandmother died a couple weeks ago. For those of you keeping track, that's two grandparents in 6 months. Very depressing. But even though I am sad, I don't think that's the cause of my sedated slump. I can't quite figure out where all my energy is going. I am not depressed or unhappy, I am actually quite the opposite. I'm just tired. I know I need a lifestyle change. A major overhaul of my eating habits and activity levels could really change things around. But the thought just makes me more tired. Even as I type these words I can feel my eyelids wanting to droop.

I feel old. Am I having a "mid-life crisis" at 29? My husband thinks so. He tells me that I have been acting so old over the past few months, very uptight and controlling. I have developed this crazy need to schedule everything. We can't have a spontaneous day anymore where we just pick up and go. I have to plan out what we're doing at all times. He (jokingly) calls me mom and even though he's just fooling around, that really gets to me. I don't want to be his mom, I want to be his wife. But it's all really starting to take it's toll. My face is looking ragged. I am developing wrinkles and have huge bags under my eyes. My eyes are red and bloodshot; I don't even drink! I have an extra 30 pounds I could really stand to lose that's just taken refuge in my stomach and thighs. I feel grossly unattractive.

Okay, enough with the self-pity. It's disgusting. It's time to do something about it. Only I can make positive changes in my life, right?

Maybe I will...after a quick nap.

Fleeting relief...

I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but shortly after my father's death I had a moment where I was almost relieved. I know that sounds awful and I don't actually mean it in a good way, but I had a fleeting thought that now we wouldn't have to worry about him anymore and the drama would end. I actually believed that for a second.

As it turns out, I was wrong. In the two years and two months since his passing, he has managed to put a wedge between us once again. I am so sad with what's going on between my sister and us. Metaphorically speaking, she is so far away from us and I worry she will never come back. I almost feel as though I'm in mourning, that's how upset I am and how strained our relationship has become. I stare constantly at photographs of the three of us when we were younger and I wonder over and over where we went wrong. I swore to myself that my sisters and I would always be close, no matter what and I have failed them again. I will always blame myself, I don't care what anyone says. I know we all make our own decisions, for better or worse, and we all have to live our own lives. But I can't help but think that if I had spent one more day or hour or even a minute with her that things would be different. I want her to be that goofy and loving and magnificent person I know she is.

Instead she's gone. When I do manage to get a hold of her, most times we end up fighting. She pushes me away. She pushes her mother away. She's spoken to J. directly only once since the big Christmas blow out and even that ended in an argument. She doesn't need me, I know that. She doesn't want me, and that's hardest to accept.

I try not to blame my father. It's not all his fault. I understand that people do have to take responsibility for their actions. I certainly take responsibility for all of mine. But I have once again severely underestimated the power of alcoholism. I can't help but wonder when we'll reach our bottom.

Passing the time...

Life is flying by. I have been crazy busy with school, work, being a wife, and dealing with my crazy family. I am so proud of the things I am doing but I don't feel like I'm doing enough. I am sick of dealing with and taking responsibility for people who should be taking care of themselves. I should be doing something more. Something that actually makes a difference in the grand scheme of life. I want to help people. But how do I do that? I'm trying to pay my own bills and live a happy life...but I want the same for everyone and I don't know how to help them. I turn 29 in less than two weeks...what do I have to show for it? What can I do to make a difference?

I'll be thinking about it on my way to the grocery store...

In a writing funk....

It's been months since I've written last. I've slipped back a little from my own recovery and forgotten what I started doing here. Part of it is because I've been back in school and it has been taking up my life. But mostly it's because I am tired of dealing with this at the moment. My youngest sister A., has been difficult lately. She started her freshman year of college last September and has dropped out already. She has no money, no job, has a skechy boyfriend, and hangs out with his even skechier friends. She lives with him and we have heard that he may be dealing marijuana and we're not sure what she's actually into. She has pushed us, her family, almost completely away. She refuses to admit there is a problem with the way she's handling herself and has admitted in a tear-streaked rage to my mother the huge amount of guilt she feels for the way she treated our father. She is angry and doesn't know how to express it but won't listen to any of us that she needs help; more than what her friends can give her. She also doesn't understand that, for her, addiction is just waiting for her. I forget sometimes how young she is and how very young she was when our family started falling apart. All that she has had to deal with at such a young age.......I allow myself to feel sorry for her only for a moment. Then I remember how she yelled at my mother and sister over Christmas and the fact that I've seen my mother in tears several times since then and my pity is gone. Replaced with that familiar pit in my stomach...one that is mixed with a whole lot of anger, sadness, and guilt. Guilt is my friend once again.

I am in disbelief that this is happening once again. How much can one family take? We have shown that we are strong, but this disease is eating away at us little by little. I am scared, nervous, worried, and horrified that we are never going to be okay. How are we going to make it?