Please Pray

I never thought I'd be in this situation. Especially on Christmas Eve. I don't know why I felt like my family, just wouldn't be here. But we're here. My Dad is in the hospital. The same hospital where I work part-time. In the ICU. And I have this horrible feeling, in the pit of my stomach. I'm just praying. Because I don't really know what else to do.

Just a little background here. My Dad has epilepsy. He hasn't had a series of seizures in a while. In over a year? At least over a year. I'm thinking, that it's been longer. But yesterday, he had 5! People...5! That hasn't happened in forever. As in, longer than I've been alive. That's at least 27 years. Yesterday, my Dad had 3 during the day. Then 1, right before we tried to get him to go to bed, for the night. During that 1, he hit his head on the tile floor. There was blood. And his lips were turning blue. He was really sturggling to breathe.

I just knew that this wasn't the "normal" type of seizures that he has. Something was very different. Very different. The actual seizing wasn't the same. And he was so incredibly mean and irritable all day long. Not the norm here. So when he hit his head, and was struggling, I called 911.

Usually, my Mom and I are able to take care of him. We know what to do. And as long as we can get him to rest and take his medication, in a few days, he's back to normal. But this was different. I knew he'd be upset that I called the ambulance, but it was necessary. Completely necessary.

So I stood in the rain. In the middle of the street. In my PJs, and my Mom's slippers, waiting for the ambulance. My Mom taking care of my Dad. Making sure that he was breathing. It was crazy to see my Dad being loaded onto an ambulance. And later in the ER. Where he had yet another seizure.

Through it all, I had to be the strong one. My Mom, I know that she was scared as heck. As was I. I was able to call my oldest brother. And I told him, it was up to him to call anyone else. I just needed to be with my Dad.

Last night was spent watching my Dad. He underwent a number of tests. And I'm so relieved that the doctors let me go with him. I was able to keep him calm. And thankfully, nothing horrible was wrong. We're still trying to figure out what happened. What caused this last series of seizures.

Sometime around 1AM, my Dad was moved into the ICU. We had to wait about an hour in the waiting room. That was so the doctors could evaluate and monitor my Dad. My Dad is still struggling to breath. And at this point, the main concern is pneumonia. My Mom and I spent the night with him in his room. My Mom is sleeping. And I'm relieved. I have a feeling, this is going to be a long haul. And we need to stay together. It's the only way we're going to make it through this.

I know that I need to call some people. Like my Auntie and Uncle. And some family friends. As far as relatives, I'm leaving that up to my brother. He needs to help out here. And our family is just too big, for me to track them all down. Oh, and it doesn't help that I have no one's phone number. I need to get on that.

So I know that you are all busy, but please keep my Dad in your prayers. I know that this is the holiday season and that there is so much going on. But my Dad really does need your thoughts and prayers. If you are someone that we know in "real life," please send me an e-mail or call me. I'll let you know where we are. But whatever you do, please keep my Dad in your prayers. We really do need it. ♥

Crossing a Line

I know that I probably went too far with my Dad today. I know it. But I'm suffocating in my own body. Just trying to make it through the day. Literally, I feel like someone is trying to kill me from inside my body. And today, the fight with my Dad, was the last thing I needed.

Did I cross a line? I think I might have. But this is me. Carrying all of this. Not just what is happening right now, in the here and now. But the stuff from my past. The stuff that I'm working through in my counseling and therapy. This stuff, it would KILL my Dad if he knew. My parents wouldn't be able to deal with these facts. So I don't tell them. I carry them. And the only person that I really ever talked to about it, well he's in heaven now. Patrick left this world with my secrets. The things that weigh so heavily on my life, heart, and soul.

I did tell my Dad that I wished I'd die. Die right there. Because maybe then, I wouldn't be such a burden for him. Did I tell him I wished a semi truck would hit me on the road? Yes. And it was also me that said, maybe some weirdo will kill me in the night, in my hotel room. I said these things. Because it seems like I'm a burden to people. To the people I love. That I only bring misery and stress.

If I died today, no one would have to pay anything. I decided a while back, I would donate my body to science. That way someone would learn something. And my family wouldn't have to worry about the expense of my death. It's all in my Will. Just a way for me to deal with it. I have no bills, beyond school. So it wouldn't be a financial burden. The only kind that really bothers my Dad.

My brother hates the fact that I go to my parents' house. The other day, he told me why do I have to come so often. Why am I there? Literally, I sleep the night, and I'm gone in the morning, to the next town to work! But it bothers him. In his words, "I ruin his entire week!" What would Dad have to say about that?

I know it bugs my Dad that I haven't graduated. But again, I'm trying. I work hard. I get good grades. But financially, I can't keep up. So I'm a burden, a failure, and just a bundle of stress to him.

So I told my Dad, that I wished God would just take me. Take me anyway that he needed to. Be it in a car accident, a murder, a massive heart attack, in my sleep, a shooting...whatever means necessary. Because I feel like then, I wouldn't have such a negative effect on people's lives. You know what I mean?

Tonight, Dr. B told me just what she thinks of me. In the middle of a meeting with my professors, who I'm supposed to be teaching with this week, she told me I'm nothing but a failure. I'm never going to make it. I'm just causing her stress, and she doesn't need me on her team for the week. There you go.

I disappoint everyone. My professors, my supervisors, my parents, my family, my friends, the people I work with, and Dean C. But I'm only one person. Trying to do it all. Maybe if I died, it would improve the life of others. It's not that I want to die. But it seems the only way to make people happy.

A penny for my thoughts? Maybe then, people would listen to me. Really hear what I'm saying. See that I'm not as strong as I appear. That I'm just human. Holding it together, the best way I know how to. No need for tears. Because I've had a pretty good life. No matter what tomorrow brings, I've done the best that I could. ♥

My Only Constant...Money Problems

It's been 1 month. One very long month. After Labor Day, I found out that Dean C and Dr. S had changed my schedule. They didn't tell me. They just did it. They wanted me to take all these classes and to do my internship. It didn't matter that I couldn't afford it. Or that I was already registered and taking 2 classes. They made the change. And by the time I found out, I couldn't change my schedule back.

No one ever listens to me. It's not that I wanted to just leave. My internship had become my entire life. And living a life as lonely and sad as mine, it was the only light in my life. The only thing that made me smile. It made me happy. I was doing something amazing. Helping innocent babies grow strong. Saving lives. It gave me hope. And to be honest, it was my only reason to get out of bed in the mornings.

But with the growing costs, and less and less gigs, I had no options. Do you want me to tell you the truth? I'm still paying J for money he lent me for the 2010 Spring semester. I know he doesn't mind. In fact, he's told me time after time, to just wait until I graduate. He doesn't need the money. Heck, maybe one day we can break even. I can be his kiddos' doctor. To be honest, I think he's hoping I'll just tell him yes one day...

All of that makes me uncomfortable. So I work. I sign over my checks to him. Every payday, I just sign my check and leave it on his desk. And anytime I have extra money, he gets it. I'm so determined to pay him as soon as possible. I know that my friend loves me. And I know that he would do anything for me. But I don't want him to think, that I use him for money. First and foremost, he's my best friend.

I also don't want to go down the route of Student Loans. Not yet anyway. I know, one day I might have to. Heck, I know when I get to Medical School, I'm going to have to. So I don't want to do it now. But that means, there are sacrifices to be made along the way.

So where am I going with all of this? It's been a tough month. I've tried to figure out ways to pay for school. I've looked at upcoming gigs. And how much money I'm going to make. I've thought about asking J to lend me more money. I've thought about leaving school for a semester. I was offered an amazing job with the Border Patrol. But I couldn't take it. Why? Because as an intern, I'm required to work 100-120 hours a week! And I have to be ready to travel at the drop of a hat. So with the internship, I couldn't work at the Border Patrol.

That leaves me with over $15,000 to pay by December. Half of which is due Friday. I've borrowed $3500 from J for books. Dr. S paid my insurance. Which is another $3,500. You know, he's half at fault for this. My other friend, Dr. M, he paid for my scrubs. I'm still left with almost $8,000 to pay. I've paid over $1,000 in tuition. Thus far, I think that's good. I've done it on my own. And I have a balloon payment due on Friday. $3,500 for my internship. And the difference in my tuition. I have to at least have $1,750 paid.

It's midterm. And I don't know where to turn. I've carried all of this. Just like ever other semester. I've carried this burden, this stress. I didn't want to be here. That's why I was only enrolled in 2 classes. I knew I couldn't do it. I have no support. No one to lean on. No one to talk to. I could handle 2 classes and $800. I didn't even buy the books for those classes. That's how tight money is. But this...$15,000, an internship, and 28 credits...I can't handle this anymore.

This is about the time I'd call Patrick for advice. Just wanting to hear his thoughts. Asking for advice. I'd never ask my parents for help. They have a business to run. It's bad enough that everyone else in the family uses them for money. I'm determined to stand on my own two feet. But I don't have Patrick to call. I have no one to lean on. It's just me. Alone, scared, stressed, worried, and falling apart. No one to talk to. No one to listen to me. To really sit down and listen to what I have to say.

Sunday, Dr. S yelled at me for at least 2 hours. Trying to talk me out of this. Come on. $3,500 isn't going to fall from the sky. I don't have any money! I work and work and work some more. I'm just not making the money. And then, Monday night we talked on the phone. I told him there was no way I could do this...

So this morning, I was supposed to work with him. At the hospital in my hometown. I came last night. My Dad was bugged. Not in any kind of mood to talk. This is why I don't talk to him about these things. Because he gets so mad. So I didn't say anything. I couldn't sleep last night. And after that horrible conversation with Dr. S, I knew it was over. I knew all the things I had worked so hard for and sacrificed for, they're over.

I'm only one person. I can only do so much. I can only carry so much weight. I've been carrying the weight of the world since I was little. Trying to make peace within my family. Taking everything that my siblings have to dish out. Being the peace maker for my parents. Being strong. Holding my family together. Keeping people happy. Being everything that everyone needs and wants me to be.

Today, I was leaving. Heading south. For my 4 hour road trip, to work. And as I was leaving, my Dad knew something was wrong. And as I tried to calming explain it, he blew up. This man, my father, the person I'm supposed to turn to when life is falling apart, he just blew up. He doesn't understand. I doubt that he ever will...

All of a sudden he wants to run in and save the day. Write a check for $200. And that's supposed to fix this. Come on. And he blamed me for it all. Let's be real here. He knew I was having trouble. He knows how much it costs me to go to school. He doesn't ever want to talk. You know, because of my brother. I'm pretty much at midterm. And last week was the first time he offered me money. $250. I'm grateful. But in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't make much difference.

So when he's yelling at me, I just have to sit and think. Does he get it? NO! I'm drowning here. And he's on the sidelines watching. Criticizing everything I'm doing. But he's not willing to walk a day in my shoes. I'm trying. There's not a single thing I can do. I mean, you can go to my house right now. There is nothing in my refrigerator. I have a few cans of food in the cabinet. I don't go shopping. I can't tell you the last time I went out to lunch with friends. I don't do anything.

I sincerely have no money. Besides the $250 my parents gave me last week, which I'm using to make a payment for school this week, I have $25 in my bank account. $25 people! Yes, we go on trips for gigs. I do what I have to. I go to the rehearsals, the performances, and whatever else appearances we have to make. Then I spend the rest of my time, in my room. Because I most certainly can't afford a meal in Las Vegas. Heck, I can't even afford to stop at Taco Bell, when we're playing gigs near home!

It's that bad. And all I can ever get from my Dad is negativity. He doesn't get it. I don't want his money. But I do want some support. Some compassion. For once in my life, I want him to tell me that he loves me and that he's proud of me. That's it.

I look at the things I do in life, I do them because I want him, to be proud of me. That's it. I've given up men that I love, a career in music, and even my happiness. But it's never enough. I fear that even when I become a doctor, it's not going to be enough. How much more do I have to do? I go without eating and sleeping. I'm trying to get myself through school. I just feel like I always come up short with my Dad. That my Mom and me will never matter. No matter what we do. ♥

Crazy Neighbor?

I've been thinking about this. Because it really did scare me. And it's really out of the ordinary for my neighborhood...

Yesterday, we got back to town. It's been a crazy couple of days. Heck, I can go out on a limb and say, it's been a crazy couple of weeks! But we made it back. Sanchoncito came back with us. Completely unexpected, because I thought he was going back to Mexico. But as you will find out, I was so completely grateful that he came back.

From the airport, we had an hour drive home. And I rode with Memo and Cari. They dropped me off at my house, and I'm assuming, went home. I was completely exhausted! All I wanted to do, was get home and get some studying done, pack a bag for today, and crawl into bed. I should have gone with my instincts...

Well, I felt gross from the flight and decided to take a quick shower. Don't think I'm crazy, but I went to my car for my comfy sweats. Yes, I have an overnight bag in my car. Because many times, I get a call and have to go on a road trip in a few minutes. Or I get stuck at work. Yes, working at a hospital is insane! And it requires a bag of clothes and basic grooming products. So I went to my car. Which is parked in my carport.

As I was walking from the carport back to my front door, my neighbor past by. And like every other day, I waved. I wave to all the neighbors. Heck, I wave to the people that walk and run through our neighborhood in the mornings. I live in a friendly neighborhood. But not like most days, my neighbor stopped. And he introduced himself. His name is John. At least, I think it's John. And he's lived in his house for 4 years? I think that's what he said. He also told me that another one of our neighbors had died. Very sad. That's 2 neighbors in less than 10 days!

Like my friend that lives across the way, he told me that if I ever need anything, just "holler." I said OK. He sounded nice. And it was actually nice, to finally talk to this man, that I always wave to. Before he left, he mentioned that he was going to be roasting some green chili and grilling some ribs. It was for his kids' birthdays. He's a 30 something year old, single dad. They were having a nice meal that night. He asked if I liked ribs, and I said yes. I wasn't going to lie. He asked, I answered. I thought nothing of it.

Well, he left. And I went back into my house. And before getting into the shower, I decided that I should probably go workout first. Because I had a feeling, that the rest of the day, was going to be pretty lazy. Let's face it, my suitcase was still sitting next to the front door. In the exact place, I had left it. So I changed clothes, and went for a run.

When I got home, the little old lady next door, came out of her house. She looked a little shocked. And she told me that John had come by my house. Looking for me, she guessed. He knocked and hollered for me. Which scared her. And she came outside to see what was going on. She told him that I had left. So he eventually left.

About an hour later, I got home. That's when I talked to the little old lady. I was confused. I had no idea what was going on. But I was tired. And covered in sweat and dirt. So I decided to go shower. And right after, I fell asleep. I'm not going to lie. I was exhausted. And when I woke up, it was evening time. I figured, I'd get some yard work done. You know, it consumes my life. This yard is just too big for one person. But I needed to water and get some of the weeds pulled. So I changed into some "too big for me" jeans and an old t-shirt. I fought with the hose, which busted, while on. I dug up some grass in the flower beds. And tried to water some of my plants and flowers.

John came over just as I was wrestling the old hose out of the shed. The little gate was locked. I was on the gated side of the fence. Completely covered in mud. John couldn't get to my side of the fence, because the gate was locked. But he came with arms full of food. A frozen container of enchilada sauce, some bags of freshly roasted green chili, a plate of ribs, and a bucket of fresh eggs. Um, what?

I didn't remember saying that I needed food. But I was being polite. Heck, Jan next door, used to always bring me food. Granted that we knew each other really well, and at least sat and talked once a week. But like I said, I live in a friendly neighborhood. Heck, the entire town is friendly like this! I told John "Thank You." It was way more than he should have done.

He continued to talk. About some fire pit that he has behind his house. And how he was going to be having a fire that night. OK. Well, he invited me. And I told him that I would probably be working and studying...maybe next time. Again, I was trying to be polite. All I could think about was getting some sleep.

He left. I went back to working. I unlocked the gate. Watered the plants and flowers in the front. I left the gate open while I had the sprinkler on in the front yard. Because the other hose had busted, I had to leave the gate open. And I continued to pull weeds in the side yard. But near the back. John came back again.

This time, he was walking. And he came to bring me his phone number. Just in case I ever needed it. I thought this was insane. But whatever. Other neighbors had given me their phone numbers. But we had known each other for a while. And we lived closer. And took care of each other's homes. At this point, I was just tired. And trying to get my yard work done. John kept talking. I kept pulling weeds. But I was starting to feel increasingly uncomfortable. Finally he left.

I was uncomfortable, tired, and hungry. The mosquitoes were biting me. And well, I was ready for a break. Heck, it was already almost dark. So I put all my tools away. Locked up all the gates. And headed inside. I put some enchiladas together, threw them in the oven, and put some rice to cook. Then, I headed to go take a shower. Remember, I was covered in mud!

Just as I got in the shower, I heard someone banging on the screen door. And then on the front windows. Screaming, "Hey! Anyone there?" Um, I had just gotten in the shower. I was tired. I wanted to have dinner. It was nearly 9PM! I just wanted to scream "GO AWAY!" But I was in the shower.

I tried to ignore him. But I guess the light from my laptop was enough to keep him there yelling. The entire house was dark. Except the light from my laptop, which was sitting near a front window. And the light from the bathroom. Which you can't see from the front of the house.

I showered. Heck if I know how long I was in there. I was tired. And seriously, I was falling asleep while trying to shower. Every time I would hear him yell, it woke me up. And the dogs were going nuts outside. I showered, got dressed, turned off the stove, turned off the oven, and quietly made my way to lay down. I really didn't want to deal with this man. I maneuvered through my dark house, and just laid down.

And I lay in bed for at least 30 minutes. The dogs are going nuts! And I was getting frustrated. Seriously man, if I'm not answering the door, and 95% of the lights are off, it's time to go home. But he wouldn't. As I was getting ready to call my "Cop Friend," who lives down the other side of the street, I heard my other neighbors get home. The little old man, from across the street, came to my rescue!

He cussed out John. Told him he had 30 seconds to get off my property or he was going to call the cops. I love that old man! John and the little old man began yelling at each other. It was getting crazy. And I think more people were becoming aware of the situation. So John finally left. The dogs quieted down. And I still lay there. Not moving. In complete darkness. I was scared. My neighbors probably assumed I wasn't home. Lots of times, I catch a ride with a doctor to the hospital. Or I walk to school. Or something of the sort. It's not uncommon to see my car at my house, and I'm not home.

But what was up with this man? I didn't ask him to bring me the food. Heck, it's all in the freezer. Not sure I'm going to be eating it. I didn't invite him to my house. And I didn't tell him that I was going to his house. He is sure nuts. Don't you think?

Well, sometime after 10PM, I was still scared. And not getting a damn thing done. Just laying in bed. In complete silence and darkness. Just waiting for this crazy man to come back. So I called Sanchoncito. Who I knew, was at his own house. He could tell I was scared. The second I said "Hello," I could hear him turn off his TV, and head out the door. I didn't ask him to, but he was coming over.

In record time, 10 minutes later, Sanchoncito was at my front door. I had never been so happy to see this man! As he pulled into my driveway, I peeked out the window. Relief took over my body. I ran to the front door, and I hugged him. I let him into my house, and I told him what had happened. He thought the entire situation, was just as crazy as I did. Sanchoncito told me, there was no way he was leaving me there alone, for the night.

Just as we were sitting down to watch some TV, John came back. Was banging on the windows. Screaming for me. I freaked out. Sanchoncito got up. He told me to lock the door behind him. He went out the front door, I locked it, and he went out the locked porch. I could him them arguing. And I called my "Cop Friend." He was on duty. And actually down the road. Lights and sirens on, he was in front of my house before we got off the phone.

He came and told John he needed to leave immediately. And if he was caught there again, if there was any trouble at my house, or anything whatsoever happened at my house, they would be going after him. John was beyond mad! I think he honestly figured that Sanchoncito and I were dating or something. He wasn't happy that I wouldn't answer the door for him, but this other man, I let him in.

My "Cop Friend" took a bunch of information down. Made sure I wasn't going to be alone. We talked about my schedule for the next 2 weeks. And he assured me that he'd be patrolling around the neighborhood and taking extra care around my house. He also made sure that Sanchoncito was going to be around for at least a week. No one wanted me to be alone. Then he left.

Sanchoncito knew I had to leave early this morning. Knew I had to work. But he didn't want me to stay at my house alone. So he stayed with me. I made him come with me to my room, so I could pack my bag. It was like I expected John to pop out from under the bed or from the closet. And then Sancho took my bag to my car. I then had to do some work for the hospital, and Sancho sat quietly reading some book I had on my bookshelf.

I was still too rattled to sleep, so we watched whatever dumb shows come out in the middle of the night. It was that bad! He sat on the couch. I was on the rocking chair. It really didn't help that it was super windy outside too. There was a big storm blowing in. And before I knew it, I was sitting right next to Sanchoncito. Every noise scared me. When in the world did I become so scared? I swear, I've lived here for 9 years. I've never been scared. I've never been afraid to be alone. Last night, I was practically sitting in Sanchoncito's lap.

Well, eventually, I fell asleep. On the couch. Sancho stayed awake. I think he feared that I'd sleep through my 4AM wake up call. He sat in the dark. On the rocking chair. I remember this, because at some point during the night, I saw him sitting there. I slept on the couch. Aren't we hilarious? I have a 3 bedroom house. And I sleep on the couch.

At 4AM, Sanchoncito came to wake me up. I swear, I about died. I don't know what I thought. If someone had gotten in. Or what. But I freaked. Sanchoncito calmed me down. But he could tell, this man had freaked the crap out of me!

I got ready. Sanchocito made us some breakfast. Um, does it count if he just made instant oatmeal? Ya, it does. Because that's all I really had in my house. And I got ready to leave. Sanchoncito and I locked up my house, and he checked out my car. I got in. He got in his truck. And he followed me to the gas station, and then out of town. Literally, he followed me for about 20 miles, before turning around, and heading back to his house. He just wanted to make sure I was going to be OK.

But this has really freaked me out. Like what am I supposed to do? Should I call the cops and report it? Should I tell him to leave me alone? Will the dude go all psycho on me? Should I keep my trap shut? Maybe I should just call my "Cop Friend" and ask his opinion.

Honestly, why do all the weirdos find me? Yes, I have four restraining orders already. Two weirdos found me at school. Both girls. Both insane! The other two are for crazy family members. I stopped going to church at 7AM, because of that weird old man. Now this? What do I do? I mean, I don't feel safe in my own home now.

Tonight, I'm staying at my parents' house. Because I'm working in town today. And tonight is Patrick's Rosary. But I really don't want to go home. I have to. But I don't want to. And I highly doubt that Sanchoncito, is still going to be there for a few more days.. Even if he is there, what am I going to say? Can you stay at my house? You know, I'm scared...

Um, I can't do that. I could stay at his house, or at J's. Heck even Memo's. But what would that solve? I would still feel uncomfortable at my house. And I don't want to tell my parents. They'd freak out. So I think I'm just going to enjoy the safety here, tonight. And tomorrow, I'm going to go see my "Cop Friend" when I get home. He's a professional after all. I'm sure he'll know what to do. ♥

Miserable Day

It's sorta funny when I think about. The entire day was pretty bad. It started with me waking up at 2AM because of the shooting pain in my hands and arms. I couldn't sleep. They felt like cement. I couldn't move. And it hurt so bad. But what could I do? Nothing. I have no health insurance. I have no money. Welcome to America.

I spent the next 20 minutes trying to get out of bed. And another 15 minutes trying to open my front door. Where I sat in the silence of early morning. Praying to God. And hoping that the pain and fear would go away. I know something is wrong. This is not normal. I've worked in health care too long to let this fall at the wayside. And the feeling in my gut, that spoke louder than any other person could.

Sometime after 6AM, I called my Dad. I knew he would be up. He's always up early. Just to talk. Maybe talking about nothing at all, maybe that would take my mind off of things. No, it didn't help. The only thing I could get him to talk about was the donut he was eating. And sometime after 7AM, when my Mom woke up, I was still miserable. Add to all of this, the miserable cold I got from getting caught in the rain.

But my Mom and I had a good conversation. We talked about a lot of things. And she was in such a great mood. It helped to lighten my own mood. Not the same type of conversation that my Dad and I had early this morning. But I'm coming to realize, the only time he has any kind of a real conversation with me, is when they fight...

So I went on with my day. I managed to drive myself to the library. I needed to get on the computer for school related things. Never mind that I have a laptop at home. But I have no internet access. And I need a new power cord...

I got some stuff done. But I couldn't finish it in the 1 hour they give you. That's right. You get 1 hour, of computer time, at your local library. Not much I could get done with 2 numb hands. So I headed to work. In pain. I still couldn't feel my hands and arms. And it was becoming difficult to breathe. I Thanked God that J wasn't home. That's all I needed. Was to be lectured by him, because I was feeling so bad and needed to go to the hospital.

From 9:30AM-5:30PM I worked. I locked myself in my office, and I finished all the paperwork for the guys. They're leaving early in the morning. Headed to the next job. I started payroll. And I had a million and a half things to do. Let's not get started on the fact that I couldn't feel my hands. And I've been panicked about that ALL DAY LONG!

I missed my session. And I got the usual call to my cellphone. Which I ignored. Guaranteed Dr. D. was at my front door knocking away. But I had to get through work. And honestly, I was in no mood to deal with all my crap today. I had already called to cancel. Guaranteed, he didn't believe me. So I call my parents when I get home.

I should have known when they didn't answer, that something was up. Because I can always reach them between 5-7PM. ALWAYS! Because they're usually eating dinner, or just finishing dinner, or having dessert. They're like that. On a schedule. But nothing. Not after the 3rd time I called on Dad's cellphone. Not on Mom's phone. Not another 5 times on Dad's. I knew something was up...

Oh ya, the crap really hit the fan tonight. I don't know what started it. Nor do I care. But honestly, I swear to God. If my husband ever told me the things my Dad has, I'd beat the man senseless. I'm not trying to be mean here. But there are certain things, that you should never hear about your parents. EVER! I don't care how mad the other is.

But that is what happened when my Dad called me at almost 6:30PM. I don't know how to put it. But it's time. It's time for them to walk away. There's nothing left there. No respect, no trust, and I'm doubting any love...

It saddens me. But if it will bring peace of mind to the 3 of us, it's time. It really is time. How many times can my Dad imagine things happening? How many times can he put HIS kids in front of my Mom? Hell, he tries to do that with me. I just don't let him. How many truly hurtful things can they say to each other?

That right there, that is the sole reason I run from relationships. I know it. No one has to tell me. I know this. For 27 years, I've heard the same fights. Seen the same things happen. And I usually sweep in, and fix things. But you know what? My own life is going up in flames. And I can't be there to fix them. I'm trying to save myself.

I happened to mention my brother. Oh, that really pissed my Dad off. But how many times can I tell him, he is a big part, of the current problems. How can a man, that is older than my Mom, live with them? Does my Dad really think it was going to be OK? My brother doesn't respect my Mom or me. That's why I've avoided going home. Yes, I used to go home a lot more often. For a week or 2 in the summer. But how can I now? Oh ya, in front of my Dad he acts like this saint of a son and brother. But he's not!

And the neighbors, my Dad doesn't want to know the real reasons why they won't talk to them. The neighbor across the street approached me about my brother. What was I supposed to do? Lie? I just didn't say anything. They showed me the papers they got. But whatever. "We're" not supposed to talk about it.

There are so many things going on. And when I mentioned to my Dad that perhaps my parents should see a counselor. Or maybe each of them talk to a friend. Forget it. He didn't like it. But how in the world, does he think, it's OK to throw all of this crap on top of me? I see a counselor and a psychologist. Just trying to deal with this. All of it! I'm not embarrassed to admit it. Sometimes, we just have to admit what's wrong. It's the only way we're ever going to fix it.

Can I tell you something? I've had a horrible day today. Just plain out horrible. I've never in my life had this kind of pain. Not even after my surgery. Never. Ever. And I've never struggled to breathe this much in my entire life! But I can't afford to go to the doctor. I don't even want to think about what it would cost to go to the ER. And I've never, ever in my life, felt like I've needed to go more that I do today.

And on top of that, I was supposed to go talk to Dr. S. tonight. There is no way I'm going now. I'm late. Seriously late. After my Dad and I got off the phone, I was way too emotional. And already 45 minutes late! Dr. S. was probably planning to just yell at me anyone. Because no one can understand that I seriously can't afford school anymore. I'm broke. And my job is just not cutting it anymore...

Do you know that my life is in absolute ruins at the moment? I feel like I'm in free fall. And nobody, not a single soul, could give a damn! That's my life. I can rely more on my friends than I can on my family. It's just fact. They're so wrapped up, in drama that they create for themselves, that I'm left flapping in the wind. It's always been this way!

And then my Dad has the nerve to tell me that he wishes he would just die. He wants to die right now. Are you freaking serious? He absolutely has no clue. None whatsoever. And here I am. His daughter. His youngest daughter. Over 3 hours away, I can't feel my 2 appendages, I'm struggling to breathe, and you tell me this. How on earth do you think, that is not going to bother me?

I swear to God, I can't win for trying. Not in anything in life. Not in trying to talk to my Dad. Not in music. Because he didn't want me to have a career in it. Never mind that I made more money playing birthday parties, than I ever did at the hospital. I enjoyed it. And I was at least able to afford school and food at the same time. It never mattered to anyone that I nearly killed myself trying to work and go to school. That at one point, I was malnourished. Because I was trying to pay for school. And I honestly couldn't afford food.

Never mind that I've had to walk away from the only thing that was keeping me afloat...my internship. Even with all the violence I had to endure, being held at gunpoint and all, that was all I had. An internship where I felt useful and productive. I'm scrapping what little money I have, just to pay for tuition. I know I'm going to have to do without books. I picked up an application for the National Guard yesterday. That's how desperate I am.

But nothing matters. It doesn't matter that I've been on the Dean's List since I started college. Or that I have a 4.0 GPA. None of that matters. Because people are too wrapped up in their own lives. All my Dad can ever see is, this child that is his daughter. And why in hell can't I graduate already. I feel like a failure in his eyes. I always have. No matter how hard I try.

My brother is so freaking paranoid that I'm going to walk away with everything, that he had the nerve to put me down when I left last week. I almost told my Dad. ALMOST! I was so close to telling him just what my brother said. Because he always waits until no one is around. Grow a pair. Be a man, and say what is on your mind in front of our Dad. If you have the guts to tell me, tell him too! Are you honestly going to tell me crap about bringing home groceries? Because Lord help me, my parents bought me some food. Free willed. I never told them that they had too. Or that I needed it.

This while he stays in their home. It's been almost 7 months. He doesn't buy food. All summer that I've gone, he wasn't working. But he feels like he has the right to tell me something about my groceries? Oh, bull crap! Do you even know how to clean the bathroom you use? Can you offer to do the dishes after I cook? No. You eat, and you run to your girlfriend.

Do you know that soon after he moved in with them, he said something to me? Ya. Something very hurtful. Something that made me refuse to go to the store with my parents. Something that stuck in my head. That had me avoiding my parents' house. I wouldn't let them buy me a loaf of bread. I hardly went to visit them for a long time. Then when I would go, I would avoid being at the house. I'd go to the library during the day. And the office at night. Because of what he said. But our Dad never knew the truth...

Then sometime during the summer, I said to hell with him. If he gets to live there for free, and eat for free...who is he to tell me anything, when my parents buy me some groceries? So when my parents wanted to take a road trip, I was game for it. Or if they felt like buying me some groceries or a couple of shirts, I figured, it was THEIR BUSINESS. NOT HIS! It's not like I'm running off with THEIR money. Or only going to see them for food, trips, and shopping. I go to see them. BOTH of my parents. Because I think he forgets that MY MOM is just as important as OUR DAD! I still only eat 1 meal a day. And a little something when I take my medication. I still live off of very little money. But I do this on my own. Can he say the same?

But that is what I'm dealing with. I just pray to God that he helps my parents. They need all the prayers they can get. Whether it's time for them to part ways or not. Maybe they shouldn't have listened to their 5 year old daughter, 22 years ago. The daughter that begged them to get married...

And I also prayed to God, that if there is something serious wrong with me, just to take me. I can't handle this much longer. The pain. Both physical and emotional. I'm sitting here an empty shell. Unable to let anyone love me. I can't trust. And I'm starting to lose faith in this game we call life. I really have no faith in people. Not Mr. Blue Eyes who wants nothing more than to help me heal. And to love me. Not the Cowboy who makes me smile, with the sound of his voice. Not Sanchocito who I really thought I could let in. And most certainly not J. The man who would do anything for me. But I can't.

These are my friends. What they don't realize is the hurt and the pain I've lived through. My inability to trust anyone. Or to truly believe that someone can love you without, expecting something from you. Or hurting you. I'm so afraid of being hurt. But honestly, how much worse can it get? This horrible secret that I've had stuck inside me, since I was 7 years old, I could never ever tell my parents. I would never know how to begin...

Let's be real. They have enough going on. And maybe I was only sent to earth to try and make peace of their lives. I don't know. I sit and ask God every single day to give me strength. To help me along. But at this point, not only is the world fighting against me. My own body is turning on itself.

I don't know how much more I can take. I really wish Memo or O was here. I need someone to just listen to me. To reassure me that I'm going to make it until tomorrow. Because I'm really not sure. Everything hurts. My heart, my head, my soul. Physical pain. Emotion pain. Mental pain.

People see me. They really think I have it all together. How else would they trust me with their kids? What else would motivate people to ask me to be their kids' Godmother, or their Madrina for their wedding? I'm not sure. I want to be as strong as people think I am. I'm just not sure that I am. Or that I have the ability anymore.

I've always said there is a lot of fight inside of me. But when there is nothing left. And you're an empty shell, where do you dig for what you need to survive? I'm at that point. I want to call someone to talk to. But the only person that comes to mind, he has enough on his plate. A serious illness that has returned. And do I really want to burden him with all of this? Do I want him to see this disastrous side of my life? The side that makes me not believe in love or in people.

At this point, I know I'm in the world alone. I know that for a fact. After today, that was made blatantly clear. From a parent that felt his emotional needs were greater than my physical ones, to the loss in humanity as a whole. I wipe away the tears, I try to gather strength, and I pray to God that he gives me another day to live. No matter how hard you work, life is nothing more than a dog fight. ♥