It’s almost one am, and I should be asleep. I laid down 2 hours ago, and just cannot turn off my brain. So, since I’m awake, I felt like I would write out some of what I’m thinking in the hopes that it will put me to sleep when I’m done.
Now that this semester is over I can sigh in relief. This was easily both my worst and most difficult semester in college. Having dealt with as much crap as I did early this semester, I’m lucky to have pulled the grades out that I ended up with. Sometimes, a transition in the middle of the school year is not the best idea. Duly noted, and filed for future reference.
I keep worrying about my Mom for some reason. I wonder if she’s happy. She never really goes anywhere now that they unceremoniously retired her from the job she had been at for 25 years last Fall. I know she worries about money. Hell, I worry about money too. She shouldn’t have to, though. She’s raised 4 kids in her lifetime and now she has to scrimp and save to make ends meet. I try to be as helpful as I can, but being a student doesn’t make that very easy sometimes, since I live on a shoe-string budget. I wish I could take her places she’s always wanted to see. I’m thinking of taking some of my summer money and taking her on a cruise when school is out in July. Nothing fancy, just maybe a trip to the Bahamas or the Caribbean. She’s done so much for me over my lifetime, that I want to repay her every day with something new and exciting, but as any college student knows, that’s often difficult to do.
I try to be a good son. I live here with her so she’s (Or I for that matter) not lonely, has someone to do the heavy lifting and to take care of the yard and house maintenance. Yeah, I get something out of it too. I enjoy spending time with her. We watch tv shows and movies together, and I try to keep her involved in what’s going on in my life and with school. You only get so much time with the people you love, so you should try to spend as much of it as you can with them.
Sometimes, though, I hate being the youngest. It’s not my brothers and sister’s fault that things are the way they are. I’m the youngest by 10 years, and that sometimes seems like a lifetime of it’s own. I often wonder how much they even know about me really. My oldest brother was married when I was born. His oldest daughter is only 4 years younger than myself, and often times I feel I have more in common with her than with him. We’ve never really spent that much time together, and I think he gets a majority of his information about me from Mom when he calls home.
I think about a lot of things that most people my age probably don’t have to worry about yet. I worry about what will happen when my mom is gone. I worry that I don’t do enough to help her. I miss my dad sometimes too. He’s been gone 20 years in 2011. That’s a really long time. A lot of people still have both their parents, and so they don’t worry about what life will be like when they are both gone. Having lost my father when I was 13 was a very hard thing to deal with, and it really fucked my life up for a while. I can’t imagine what things will be like. The sad truth is, I’ll probably be the last one of my immediate family left. That thought scares the hell out of me. I don’t want to survive everyone I love. I don’t know how I will ever go on without them. I hope I’m in a safe place if that happens.
They say that if you want to really know a person, walk a mile in their shoes. I don’t think people would like my life if they did. They would discover that I worry about a lot of things that I have little or no control over. I went back to school not just for my own benefit, but for my Mom’s as well. I want to be able to take care of her. She deserves it. She’s worked so hard her whole life and has so very little to show for it. She lost her husband long before she should have, and yes, maybe I’m resentful to my father for leaving us the way he did. With both my brothers and my sister having their own lives, it was only natural that the responsibility of it would fall on me. Sometimes, I don’t know if I am doing it very well at all. Most days, in fact.
I hear from a lot of people that I’m so strong, blah blah blah, but really I just deal with things as they come. It’s all you can really do, isn’t it? I try to live a good life, be kind to those in need. I try to be mindful of other peoples needs and wants. Most of the time I rarely even think about myself. I think about getting from one day to the next, with as little pain and trouble as possible. Lately, I feel crushed by the weight of the future. So many things are uncertain and unknown, and I do not like that at all. I like things to be orderly and neat, and the future is neither. I think I went into Anthropology as a means of escape; there is no escaping your life, though. You can try to run, but you will probably get the boomerang effect in the end. Everything will catch up to you at some point, so why bother running at all. It solves nothing, does nothing. Learning to love where you are and who you are is a lesson we should all learn early in life, I imagine it would make things easier.
Why is it that in the middle of the night is when the worst of it hits you? Your mind, while happy and cheerful during the day, turns dark and brooding in the midnight hours. This has been the cause of my insomnia over the years. I lay awake at night, even when I was a child, worrying about things like what happens when your parents are gone? What will you do to survive? How do you survive? I remember being 9 years old, a few weeks before my sister got married, and worrying about what life would be like without them all. I remember thinking about my parents passing, and it filled me with fear and such a sadness that a child should never know. I guess that proves I was never a normal child, not that I needed convincing. I had a very happy childhood, with many friends and loving family. So why on earth would I worry about stuff like that? I have no answers. I wish I didn’t worry about it. It makes me feel very lonely sometimes. I would say that I miss being a kid, but as I’ve detailed, I wasn’t much different then than now. I’ve always been too mature for my age, worrying about things that I shouldn’t have to.
How unusual for me to pour my heart out in a blog. It’s not usually my thing to tell anyone that I’m worried or sad. I really do miss the so-called carefree days of my youth, short as it may have been. I wish my Dad was here. You never really get over the gaping hole something like that leaves inside you. People say it gets easier with time, but that isn’t always true. 20 years later and I still think about him often. I guess I feel like my mother was robbed of her happy life when my father passed. She had to work all day and raise a 13 year old, do without her husband and manage the household. That can’t have been easy. I was difficult, no doubt, doing stupid things that teen-agers do. I doubt I’ve ever thanked her enough. I don’t think I even can.
I wish my mind would decide to go to sleep. Instead, it plagues me with thoughts about the meaning of life. Buddhism says that all life is suffering, and some days I completely agree. We live, only to eventually wither and die. We see our loved ones go, one by one, into the great darkness without us. Each day we are tested and tried and stressed and exhausted. I understand suffering, both in myself and in other people. Maybe that is what makes me so compassionate towards others. I wish I could fix everything.
More than anything, I wish I could just sleep and stop worrying over what the future brings. I hope my family knows that I really do love them, even if I don’t say it or show it always. Maybe it’s time to go back to taking sleeping pills, as much as I hate them. Probably not forever, but a few weeks wouldn’t hurt. I hate these middle-of-the-night sessions where it’s just me, the cold air and long hours before dawn sitting in my bed thinking.
I wish I could stop thinking. You know what they say? Wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which one gets full first.