Every time I come home, my emotions lose their focus. I suppose, that regardless of where I am, they’ve been doing that lately. This visit home marks the first time I’m acting as a caretaker for one of my parents; it’s been an experience. I’m discovering that maybe I’m not much of a caretaker. I used to be; I think I used to think of others much more than I think of myself now. I’d like to do that more, but I really feel that my ability to do think of myself at all is something I’ve had to learn over time. It’s somewhat of a defense mechanism, I suppose.
I really hate to be vague, but I can’t possibly describe all the reasons and happenings that have brought me to my current state of mind. I’m very tired and should try to sleep; instead of trying to answer the questions I’ve been incessantly asking myself now for the last couple of years. I wouldn’t be so tired if I’d just let myself live the answers, as cliche as that sounds. I try to let things be how they are… I just wrote a post on that! Yet, somehow, I cannot stop trying to make sense of everything and find a finite answer to my confusion anyway. I really hate that the confusion is turning to anger and the anger to sadness so often now. My anger is calming down, and acceptance has certainly arrived. The more I accept things the way they actually are, the more sad I am. I’m feeling trapped because I’m afraid to rip my life into shreds. That’s all. I’m afraid to make another mistake. I’m afraid of everything that would have to do with a separation or a divorce. I already feel alone enough, I don’t know if I could handle actually being alone.
I wish things were different; I wish I appreciated more things about my life and that I could focus more on the positive. I wish I could do that, but it doesn’t seem to be happening lately. I’m falling asleep… goodnight, readers – whoever you are!