Jkmoree's Journal

So here we are about 1/2 way into 2008 and it was a year that I held out so much hope for...perhaps this would be the breakthrough year I'd been looking for, possibly a new career path, new friends, etc. ( Must issue a warning here though, this will in all probability be quite gloomy so if you are in a good optimistic frame of mind, please do yourself a favor and stop now)

And rather than wallowing in rainbows and sunshine; I am in one of the worst weeks of my life...probably ever. Apparently, my father has walking pneumonia and a few days ago was seized by a coughing fit so bad that he literally tore the cartilage from his rib cage. For days and nights I have watching my father in horrendous pain and have been unable to do a single thing to prevent or stop it. Sometimes things have felt nearly surreal. On the worst night ever in a coughing fit, he knocked a glass to the floor and the reverberating shatter that occured when the glass encountered the tiled floor seemed like a metaphor for my life. I sat there in an almost hypnotic state as I watched the shards of glass spread out like sands blowing on a deserted beach. It seemed so fitting that I nearly hesitated to sweep the glass up.

Never in my life have I felt so bereft and abandoned. I have prayed, I have paced, I have wept, and I have on more than one occasion of late asked God why he keeps me alive. My days and nights have become all muddled up as I frequently am up and down checking on my father. I make soup, pour endless amounts of tea, coffee and ginger ale. I have discovered that for some bizarre reason popsicles are one of the best ways to soothe sore throats. (mine as it happens, because I have caught the original disease my father had that has now developed into pneumonia). Why is it that when most people have the strength of friends or family to draw on, I must shoulder this alone?

At my age, most people are raising their families, striving in their careers, going on family vacations, in short having a life. My sister was allowed to have one, both my brothers, and they go on merrily on their way whilst I sit out on the sidelines of life.

I probably shouldn't get this emotional, but writing is the only avenue I have left to relieve my feelings. The only way I can keep myself from going over the edge. I can fully understand why no man in his right mind would ever want me as I was once told. What kind of person would I be to inflict myself on someone else?

But what do I do? To become "normal" I would have to abandon my father and the life I lead now to try and establish my independence and focus on myself. Sometimes I do long for this, to run away from the responsibilities that I've had since I was 11. To just, I don't know...play...have fun...just not have this awful sense of duty and obligation all the time. But I know that the guilt would crush me. The only thoughts I had all through this terrible week have been, what would my father have done if I didn't exist, if I was dead, who would take care of him?