girlotron, liha..... hope this explains some things.

Daylogs seem to depersonalise. Things never look as dark and broodingly messy in neat, black type shining out of a clean plastic box.

Once again, several areas of my life erupt simultaneously. Last week I finally, finally sorted everything out with h-boy. I thought that it would be a bigger deal than it was. I miss him dreadfully, but the relief outweighs it. The order of the day amongst those who know is probably "I told you so".. and yes, they did, and yes, I agree. I agreed at the time. I just wanted to keep the good parts going for a little longer... I'm lonely, you see.

Mum doesn't have Alzheimer's. We don't know what she DOES have, but at least it means her euthanasia plans have been shelved.

I finally admitted I needed help- REAL help. I don't know if it changed anything, but talking to someone who sorts people out for a living at least made me realise that my "issues" are real, and that I am allowed to be selfish about them. So I'm being so.

I still don't know about work. I think I want to finish this- heck, I KNOW I want to finish this, but the timing might just be too hard. Maybe I'm not mature enough, maybe I'm burnt out, maybe I'm just bloody lazy, we'll have to see. The lab work is a lot less depressing than the writing though, so maybe I'll make a go of it after all. Maybe it's just the commitment and the further expectations that are frightening me. Maybe, Maybe, Maybe.....

One day at a time

My grandfather is in hospital down here. He had a quadruple bypass and valve replacement on Thursday. We didn't know if he would live. We didn't know he was this ill. Last week was hell- waiting and watching and hoping and trying to calm his fears yet still say all that needed to be said in case it all went wrong. I've never seen him so scared. I had the vague idea that by the time you turned 80 you'd come to accept death. Perhaps he had- as a pain relief, as a stranger in the night, but not like this. Not being put under anaesthetic KNOWING there was a chance that you wouldn't come out. Not gambling your life on 85% odds. He woke up. Grandma coped. Mum coped. I coped. He spoke to a priest before he went in. This is not something that happens in our family. Now there is the drawn-out bizarrity of the recuperation period. He was well, we were relieved, now there are odd things going on- hallucinations, mood swings- that we can't understand. I'm not allowed to see him- being a plague-carrier right now. Admittedly, today I didn't want to see him.

I ran away from it all last night. I've been playing the damsel in distress to some extent, and probably hurting someone that I care about in the process. He's a very sweet boy. He's leaving. I..... need him. Just for now, I need someone that will look after me, and then go away so that I don't have to deal with the aftermath. He doesn't want that, but he is a male, a sweet and sensitive and confused male, and thus far too easy to manipulate. I'm not behaving in a way that I respect, but he's making it very easy for me. I crave affection. Physical, real, not necessarily sexual affection. He's been providing it lately, in a friendly manner, after a drunken lapse of judgement a few weeks back. We work in gossip central. I don't particularly care- let them speak their small, dark and vicious minds for an eternity! - but it bothers him. A lot. And after last night... My behaviour has given them a brand-new topic. I'm being dreadfully unfair to him. I'm taking advantage of his lonlieness, his kindness, his inexperience..... pushing my luck far too often, but I don't feel all that bad about it.

I'm selfish right now.