Monday, August 29, 2011

Loneliness and Split Decision

Welp. Here I am.

Far away from home, sitting in my new dorm room, fresh out of a weekend full of orientation and Disneyland. Not to mention today's classes.

I'm finally going to live out my dreams and be the person I've always wanted to be.

This should be the greatest moment of my life now, right?

Then why does it all feel so wrong?

Last post I talked about how my dad's passing made me reevaluate my life and choose to live rather than be sad. A week and a half ago, that's exactly how I felt.

But as soon as we got here, everything changed.

I feel like I haven't really been able to accept what's happened to my dad. Like I've moved on to the next hurdle before I've completely jumped over the first one.

I want to want to be here (read that carefully).

But at the same time, I want to go home badly.

Since I arrived life has consisted of a series of ups and downs. My move-in day consisted of me bawling my eyes out and going to go see an on-duty counseler to work through this grief, but she wasn't able to help. The next day, I went to Disneyland and everything seemed beautiful. Saturday, I happily went dorm shopping then to Disneyland with friends. I came home and the sadness started again. I truly considered dropping out of school to go home and deal with this.

Sunday got better: I decided to give it a week, then on Friday decide if I want to stay, go, or possibly take a leave of absence. I went out to lunch and then Disneyland with a new friend, was able to gush about girly things, and felt like I could truly do this. And then that night, the dread and miserable sadness came back.

I've been going through this vicious circle over and over again.

I can't decide what to do. This feels like it will never end. Before my dad passed I felt like coming to this school was my dream. Now I don't think it is. In fact, I don't know if college has ever been my dream or if it was my dad's and I just went along with it. It's all I've ever known.

I don't want to let him down.

But more than anything, I'm feeling this terrible loneliness. My roommate was here for maybe an hour total since she moved it, and that was when she was sleeping. The rest of the time she was God knows where with her own friends. I've been having a hard time making any friends at all. No one knows what I've been going through and even if they did, they wouldn't know what to say.

How many girls lose their dad two weeks before they move 400 miles away from home?

One that I know of.

Basically, what I'm trying to say is that I'm stuck right now. Stuck between happiness and depression. Stuck between wanting to be here and wanting to be home. Stuck between knowing what I should be feeling.

It's terribly frustrating that I always know what to do but in this case, I'm completely lost. I have no idea what to do.

And that fact in itself is absolutely killing me.

Friday, August 19, 2011

3 Funny Things and 1 week

It's funny how a loss as big as this can bring up so many questions.

Am I still going to school?

Do we have enough money to get by?

Mom, are you going to move?

Am I going to be ok?

What happens when we die?

Does God exist?

I've mentioned it before on this blog that my views of God and the afterlife aren't exactly set in stone. I don't know if we have a Creator, if things are linked by some form of "the Big Guy" and we all either go to some place of majesty in the sky (or fiery pit of hell). Perhaps we're just beings in this land, stuck here by some scientific commodity. Maybe when we die, our souls are reincarnated.

I honestly don't know.

There's so much I want to believe...but so much that just doesn't make sense to me.

Also funny is how a loss like this makes you want to yearn that there is a Heaven and a God out there so that when we to die, we can join the other departed souls. Before last week, I never wanted that to be true as much as I do right now.

But for now, I'm don't know.

This has been my last week at home. As such, it seems only right to make my rounds to all of my friends and old watering holes.

Everyone knows what's happened to my family. And when I see them, they give me this big sad puppy dog look, expecting me to start sobbing immediately.

The third funny thing is I haven't cried a lot. Well, I cried a lot on the few days following, but by the time his Memorial service came on Saturday, I'd decided I was done crying. He lived, can't we celebrate that? Can't we keep living our own lives?

Yes, I'm sad. And yes, I smile a lot more than frown. That's how I chose to live.

I think that's enough funny things.

I might not be posting for a while now. Tomorrow and Sunday are my last days at home and consquently jam packed with visitations and other activities. Monday, I pack up the car and head towards the coast. Tuesday and Wednesday will be filled with various Southern California sightseeing activities. Thursday is the big move-in date and then orientation starts and goes through part of Saturday.

This time next week, I will be completely on my own a few hundred miles from home.

This is so incredibly scary that I just put three "b's" in "incredibly. Yeah, trembling.

But I think I'm excited. I just need to get through everything in the next 2 days (and pack...).

So, I suppose I'll see you in a couple weeks or so.


Wednesday, August 10, 2011



Imagine that that wasn't a word, and an actual action.


Today is only Wednesday. For the last 48 hours, my mind has been a flurry of activity and it seems like it should already be October.

I guess I should explain why....

Have you ever read a book and noticed how some of the plot seemed to fit your life exactly? Better yet, have you ever experienced something and then realized that you had read a book where something similar had happened?

There are so many books about cancer victims, whether they be the main character, or their siblings or parents. Whether they survive...or die.

Well, the other day I posted about how my father was not doing well at all and that I was worried about him.

At approximately 8:05 yesterday morning, my father was sent to Paradise.

It's funny that no matter how many books I've read about this happening, the feeling still doesn't compare to this blow.

Six months ago, my father was healthy and happy.

Five months ago, he caught pneumonia.

Four months ago, that pneumonia caused cancer cells in his lymph nomes to travel to his lungs, turning into Stage 4 lymphoma. We were assured that everything was going to be OK. He would get chemo and it would be away and we could move on with our lives.

Four weeks ago, my father was doing better everyday. The cancer was shrinking according to the different scans. His breathing was getting better. He was going to survive.

Three weeks ago, he went to the hospital to get his lungs cleared. Still everything seemed fine. When he came home, however, he had a very hard time breathing on his own. But still the scans showed that the cancer was comparable and he was going to make it through.

A week ago, he went back to the hospital for breathing and his lungs. They took another scan and things were not well. On Sunday morning, we learned that he would not make it unless he took a very painful chemotherapy which might not even work. We decided on hospice care, hoping that he would improve a bit on his own, but ultimately knowing this was the beginning of the end.

Monday night, he was transported to hospice.

Tuesday morning, he was gone.

It all happened too quickly for any of us to process. I still can't even get used to the fact that this even happened.

But I think my father knew on Monday what was going to happen. We went to visit him at the hospital, and while he was very tired, he seemed to want to be with us. I held his hand for the first time in a very long while and we just couldn't let go. I also forget how many times we mouthed the words "I love you" to one another. We said good-bye, and that was it.

My father was a great man, and he inspired a lot of people. Practically everyone he's ever met has something good to say about him. He took care of his family fiercly.

He was my hero. I never got a chance to tell him this, but I know he knows.

My book that I'm currently working on getting published will be dedicated to him.

This is the story of how life is. Quick and crazy, but the choices we make along the way determine how the world remembers us. For my dad, it was as a good-natured hero.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Runs, Ruts, and Hospital Visits

Welp, here I am, Dear Reader.

You'd think that the fact that I haven't been working and thus have absolutely no life would mean that I'm writing and blogging my little heart out lately?


Actually, my shot at summer has consisted of sleeping (I love this), running in the bajillion degree heat, some shopping, lots of movies (mainly drooling over Captain America's defined definition), and reading.

I make it a point to always carry a book with me at all times. When I was working, it would take me around a month to finish one book, if I was lucky (hour long lunch breaks really pan out to about 18 reading minutes). However, I've read a couple books already. "Dreaming Anastasia" (started out blegh, turned to meh) and "Annexed" (I read this baby in one night...could not put it down). Right now I'm working on "Beauty Queens".

I've been packing. I move in 16 days and it's scaring the crap out of me.

And I've been going to the hospital. Last Sunday, I was sent to the ER for chest pains...turned out to be nothing (maybe anxiety, see above point). However now I'm going under intense-like testing for my severe anemia. Again, could be nothing.

But my dad wound up in the hospital again.

I really hate bringing this up...but we should know by now that my dad was diagnosed with cancer in the spring. He's not fairing well. I'm really worried.

I can't express it in words much better than saying that I was bawling my eyes out tonight thinking about it.

Let's all think happy thoughts, right?


So I was running this morning, trying not to die in the intense heat. I was going my average pace down my every day route.

And it hit me. No, not a bus...a realization.

I'm stuck in a rut.

In running, I can't seem to improve one little bit. My distance sucks as does my pacing.

In writing, I keep going back to the same old stories, looking to salvage something. But I haven't been able to write anything really new or exciting. My brain is stuck.

I routinely drive the same roads in town, sometimes heading automatically to one place that I always go, switching lanes at the same spot...

I'm too damn comfortable with life.

In 2 weeks, everything will be changing. I will be moving to a new state, to a new neighborhood, changing all the people I know and will utterly be alone in the world.

Now if that's not some scary sh*t, I don't know what is.

So here's my goal: I'm going to start embracing life some more.

Taking advantage of every moment. Perhaps two runs a day, doing writing exercises to get my brain going, practicing my French, and getting used to getting out and enjoying life some more.