Sometimes I wonder if my mom sees my sister as her success, the one child who turned out just like her and isn’t a huge disappointment. It’s hard to believe that mom doesn’t see me as a disappointment, when everything I do seems to earn her ire.
Sometimes I wonder what life would be life if I wasn’t struggling all the time with this illness. If I could just be well, except for the occasional flu. Would I be as creative? Would I be making more money? Would I be happily married by now?
Sometimes I wonder why I’m still here, or why I am here in the first place. I feel like a mismatched part, like I don’t belong in my family, in my city, in my life. Like I am some sort of hitchhiker in my own head, just along for the ride.
Sometimes I wonder if I would be remembered, if I were to commit suicide. If it would be a relief, to not have that uncertainty about me anymore, knowing that I’m at peace, when peace was so fleeting when I was alive.
Lately I’ve been wondering and worrying about my cat, and trying to come up with a contingency plan for what to do if she doesn’t make it through the surgery. Currently it’s possibly going to the hospital, because I’m not sure what I’ll do. The vet called this morning- I’m writing this on Saturday- to remind me of her appointment, and I just cried afterwards. I received a donation with a beautiful message attached to it. I just started to bawl when I read this:
“In memory of my darling little kitty, Samara, who passed away on 4/19/13. Please accept this modest gift to help your wonderful Chihiro to continue with a healthy, happy life. Also sending our love and best wishes for Chihiro’s recovery. Your friends, Cari and Samara’s lifelong litter mate and companion, Monte Carlos.”
I just… I can’t even. Her cat died the day before she donated $25 to my cat. Here I am thinking how useless I’m going to be if my cat doesn’t pull through the surgery, and this lovely woman has just lost her own cat and is able to turn around and donate to mine. I’m crying again just thinking about it.
Sometimes I wonder if I’ll EVER manage to get another job. I got a letter from the place I had two interviews at, turning me down for the job. I keep applying places and not hearing back. It’s so disheartening. I just… I just don’t care anymore. My mom and I had another conversation about me starting a disability claim, and it just feels so much like giving up. Here I am, 29, unemployed, too depressed to function most days, wanting so badly to work but not able to find a job, and even if I DO find one, how long will I last this time?
Sometimes I wonder if everyone would be better off if I just wasn’t here anymore.