serafaery

I’m grateful for:

gentle spring rain, memories and pictures of my sweet sweet Willow, a job that treats me gently and has internet access so I can tumblr out my stresses sometimes and still pay my rent, hanging out with the Frouds at the Vampire Ball last weekend, friends who treat me gently and preciously, sharing food with my roommate, coffee, that my headache is mostly gone, no longer coughing, long stemmed red rose from the bartender at the ball, my purple and red velvet cloak, spending time with Ajna and Nona, playing dressup in belly dance clothes for a couple hours with a bunch of beautiful people for a photo shoot, healthy habits, my crazy purple/orange/green hair, people saying I look younger than I am, <3craft, silvery painted nails, inspiring artists, sparkly things, blood oranges, that I can buy tasty healthy food whenever I want, cooking at home in a simple, uncluttered kitchen, baking cookies, new makeup that doesn’t irritate my skin, the ability to help my brother look after mom’s cats if nothing else, support offered from friends, friends who are cuddly, peppermint tea, short work days, that my hip has hurt a little less the last few days, ice dancing on Sundays, belly dancing on Wednesdays, goth dancing on Thursdays, drawing with a friend over coffee and quiet, hoodies, body lotion, a loving and helpful brother, the occasional beer, learning to enjoy the occasional whiskey, naps in sunbeams on weekends, baking things in the kitchen when I can’t seem to get myself warm any other way, the moon, a warm, safe place to sleep at night.

I want to scream in horror every second of every moment I have to spend in my mom’s house, tending to her poor, frightened, neglected cats.

Mom has fully developed dementia. Taking away the alcohol has not helped and will not help. She can never go home. She will be moved to an assisted living facility if/when her Medicaid application is approved.  The house is hell on earth. Reeks of cat piss, filthy, cluttered, confused, run down.  She owes close to half a million dollars on the mortgage. She has nothing.

I want so desperately to watch it burn.

My step-father is a completely useless bumbling mess.

My mother hates both my step-father and I passionately. We will never see her again.

My brother is the last of my family. He is doing everything he can. I am so grateful for him. Because I can do nothing. Other than tend to the cats an hour a day, try not to hurt myself, and cry.

At age 35, I have no friends who can in any way to relate to what I’m experiencing. Even my ex-junkie acquaintances still have grandparents and parents, aunts and uncles, though some are estranged. They have things like inheritance and family gravestones and reunions and funerals.

I feel like worthless trash. I’m supposed to keep walking like everything is fine.

And I do. I can. Because I have people who care about me.  Because I’m self-sufficient. I can survive without family other than my ex-cokehead brother. I don’t want to be forced to walk through this. But I can. I will. I’m used to pain. Chronic hip pain is nothing compared to what I have lived through, emotionally.

I really miss my cat.