Do Not Feel Ashamed

So my first week of classes is almost up. I’m taking three: Intro to Anatomy, Perspective, and Narrative Storytelling. All come with a butt-load of homework, so, good thing I took only three. 

If I’ve learned anything (about people) in this past year on my own, it’s that no one is alike, and not many people are willing to agree to disagree. I’m an easy person, really. I say outrageous things and make everyone around me smile, but when people refuse to just be like “oh, I don’t agree” and move the fuck on, I just like…my shoulders LITERALLY sag and my eyes roll themselves! It’s disturbing to see people my age throwing temper tantrums. BUT THAT ADDS MORE TO THE LULZ. So, by all means, disagree and try to change my opinion… ;-]

Ronald’s got the right idea.

Whatever, right? Anyway, this morning I called and checked in with my Dad, because I don’t know. I never get “bad” feelings, just anxiety (and the habit of checking in). So anyways, I called my Dad. He has a twitch in his right eye from stress, and no, that’s not normal, but whatever. He told me today his right eye vision was blurry, and I almost started crying at the shuttle stop (one of the many places my school’s buses pick up students and drop them off, respectively).

I told my Dad he needed to go to the ER, like, immediately. And he retorts with “I’m a nurse, if I seriously thought my life was in jeopardy, I’d call 911”. And that, like, does nothing to calm me down. I mean if you looked at me right there and then, at the shuttle stop, I would just be frowning staring at a row of parked motorcycles on the phone. But inside, everything stopped. That’s the best I can describe it.

So, my Dad made me promise not to worry about him and go to class. Immediately after he hung up, I panicked and called my Grandmother, ‘cause that’s his mom [and my Dad loves his Mommy] and then she talked to me, and then I called my Dad back [and this is really common in my family]. My Dad told me there’s nothing to worry about and not to think about him. I hung out with some friends, made plans to get wasted Friday, and went to class. I was overly-chipper, now that I think about it. My brain friggin’ blocked all thoughts of my Dad, it was weird.

Anyway, I called him as soon as I got home, and he told me his vision came back after taking his blood pressure mediation. Yeah. That’s not good. He’s going to see a doctor and not working over-time, but I am having serious separation issues for the first time. I mean I’ve been living in San Francisco for almost a year, 3,000 miles away from anything ‘familiar’, and I’m 8hrs [1hr and 10mins plane ride] away from my Dad. I don’t know, I just wish I was there to take care of him. My brother’s being especially ‘good’, probably because he knows my Dad’s going to have the state mentally evaluate him, but I don’t trust his capability of caring for another human being.

And if my Dad does go into cardiac arrest or has a stroke, my Grandmother said she and my aunts would step in, but fuck if I’m letting them take me and Dean [well, Dean. I’m in college]. He’s a bastard [and a bastard child] but I promised my father I’d take care of my brother and always welcome him in my home [if he ever needed a place to stay]. My father’s already taken the steps so as I’m the soul benefactor in his will, his life-insurance, everything. It scares me how much he trusts me, but if he had any doubts, he wouldn’t tell me all these things, I guess....

I’m really lucky, and yet, I feel like my family problems outweigh a lot of my friends. Not that I tell most [or, uh, any] IRL people this shit I slap on Blogger.

I’m sure you can.

What I learned: Things will get better. They always do. And even if they get worse, I’ll be alright.