addendum

But I've been thinking, and I'd much rather spend my birthday in airport security lines than with my parents.

Bummer. Who are these people with families they love? What's that like?

My mind is overtaken with the anxiety of going/not going, lying/telling the truth, doing what I want/doing the same old thing of hating myself, admitting how shitty it feels to not like my family/keeping up the lie and just being sad on the inside...

It doesn't stop. It won't stop.

Complete cut off is not a decision I can get behind at this point, but I also can't get behind seeing them at this wedding, at Thanksgiving, or at Christmas. Everyone already knows about Christmas and I think assumes about Thanksgiving, but I already said I'd go to this wedding. No matter how hard I try and how many times I've looked at the flights reservations page online, I just can't commit to actually making the reservation and actually reserving myself to going.

But how do I tell Dad? It shouldn't be about him. It should be about Anne, the cousin getting married.

I'm sick of this and my time is being pulled away from me by too many others that I don't know how to stand up to. I do, I just don't.

All I feel is that I just want to be left alone.

The Second Guess

So I had this entire post all planned in my head. It was because this morning I was talking with some co-workers (ha! that sounds so "Office Space." We don't call each other co-workers, but for time and clarity's sake, I'm sticking with it.) and one is a mother and she was telling a funny story about her 18 year old daughter calling her very upset and blaming her for all that was going wrong, of which, of course, the mother had absolutely no control (ie it was raining really hard). So we all laughed and then I had a flash of the last time I ever went to my mom for help. Not that I could ever really go to my mom for help, with anything, especially with being upset, but I remember the last time I tried.

It was awful. I dared to ask her for a hug. Really. That's the story. I mean, of course I could go on for much too long discussing all the ins and outs of it, but I went to her and asked for a hug. The combination of shock, fear and disgust on her face to see me almost-crying and asking for a hug made me try to explain where I was coming from. That didn't really work. As is the usual with my mom, I ended up just trying to get away. How dare a 17 year old get scared and ask her mom for help. I went back to room and cried on my own. That felt better. After five or ten minutes she came in and told me all the reasons why I shouldn't have been feeling what I felt. Really, how dare I try to have emotion. Especially around my mom.

But then when I got here to write out the whole story, of which I clearly did write a good portion, I felt so overly melodramatic. Because what's the fucking point of coming here and talking about that shit?

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And then a lot of people came into the office and I got distracted and now I have to go to a staff meeting. It's cool to be unfinished. It's like me and my emotional well being. Unfinished.

What's it mean that I set the alarm early with The Ex to spend more time with her, but am late almost every day to spend more time with Jessa?*

Wyoming was f'ing awesome. I loved it. I can't say enough good things. I really can't. I love and miss Sarah.

While driving, I had the thought: "So this is how it's all going to end--driving through a thunderstorm in Southeastern Nebraska, choking on an egg mcmuffin."

I wrote The Ex an email yesterday. It was short and to the point and as if we still talk all the time. I just had to tell her "Thank God for Pepe!" I hope at least she got it.

Stefania's moving in. At least for a while.

I have my first grad class today. I'm going back to grad school. It doesn't feel real. Am I really doing this?

I think I've become Jessa's personal algebra tutor. I like it though. And it's good studying for the GRE. I'm just worried about the nights I'm busy. This feels like when I tutored Tara through Statistics back in San Diego.

I miss Autumn.

I'm supposed to go to a cousin's wedding in Salt Lake City at the end of September. That means I'll be travelling on my birthday. Who wants to spend her birthday in airport security lines? Not this guy.

I'm not going to Christmas. I'm still thinking about Thanksgiving. I don't know why. Guilt? The desire to have that family everyone else talks about? The desire to stay silent at lunches like today where one woman/lesbian/friend/mother gave the advice to another woman/lesbian/friend/girlfriend that it really is better for her to not talk to her blood family at all. That breaking up with them was the right choice. I don't want it to be the right choice for me. I know I would have stayed silent anyway, but in this case, I like that my silence meant I do talk to my family. But I don't honestly. And I don't like them. Or love them really, except for maybe my aunts. And I know that "makes me a bad person" in society or whatever, but if I'm honest, I don't. I really think my main desire for having them around and talking to them and seeing them is for the materialistic value of it, which makes me think maybe I am a part of that family after all.

Uh, this is weird, but I have to go to class now.

*That's not my postsecret or anything, just looking at it made me have that thought. And I thought it was pretty, so I put in a link. See more at postsecret.