Where Will I Land?

Dear Hearts,

I went to Steve’s for dinner anyway. I got sautéed beef tips and shrimp over wild rice with broccoli. Sounds good, right? Only if you want gas pain! And I mean pain. Aunt Faerie can have the shrimp if she wants. Ew. But ya’ know what? I won’t regret going. I don’t regret going. I regret eating, but not going. G-Pa loves Steve’s and their ham loaf. It’s just so goddamn unnatural!

The Christmas decorations are all put away—except the tree. G-Pa keeps the tree up year round. Okay—whatever. I have gotten used to it. It took me a while to warm up to as REAL Christmas tree—because I am so used to seeing it. Now, it’s hard for me to unsee it as a REAL Christmas tree, if that makes sense. Christmas is over. I left the Manger Scene up. That’s been out a year too. Maybe having a little bit of Christmas year round is an entirely bad thing.

I rang in 2017 with white chocolate raspberry pie and some wildflower mead Bugsy made. The mead is good stuff. An inch and I got heady! But, it really does taste good. And, I’m not a beer or fruity alcohol person. If I am gonna drink—I want to fucking taste it.

Oh, and I also spend the evening with Leo, Mark, Martin, Vera, Jack, and Scorsese in The Departed. A violent, violent, tragic movie. The hero or anti-hero ends up dead along with everyone else except the pregnant shrink and the under cover cop chief.

Why do I, Ms. Barbie and pink, like violent movies? In The Departed, life was simple. You had a problem with someone, you shot him. Don’t fuck with them and they won’t fuck with you. Almost all the characters dissemble, except Martin Sheen who ends up be thrown off a roof.

The good guy doesn’t win in the end, even though he did everything he was supposed to do. Above and beyond.

So far 2017 is not much different than 2016, except that I got my LAST check from my union and now I am dependent on SSD and my family. Even in September, I thought I’d magically be better by January—I’d be able to get a job and supplement my income. I still can. But, in my mind….

I am falling off the cliff and I don’t know where I am going to land.

As I was putting away the Christmas decorations and cleaning!, I thought will there be another Christmas with G-Pa? Sorry Aunt Faerie and Mom. I know you think about it. He’s 96 and in pain. All day he has sat in his back room watching TV and dozing. That’s due in part to the painkiller. I know he doesn’t feel good if he didn’t even ask to take a drive. We have an ENT appointment Thursday, but I think we’re gonna end up at the neurologist. If G-Pa has neuralgia, he won’t get better. He's getting older and I'm afraid. 

The Holy City did not provide a miraculous cure like the spring at Lourdes. 

I know I am depressed because I can’t sleep until 1 a.m. No matter how hard I try, last night I just laid in bed looking up at the 100-year-old ceiling.

I should redouble my efforts get some online paying job. Every time I think about me being back in the world, I can feel the edges of a panic attack.

Get a job Kate. If you get a job, you can keep the house. Get a job Kate. I don’t want to go there in my thinking. The Demons are rife in that place and I am seemingly defenseless against them. Nope. Can’t go into that whole line of thinking yet. Cannot do it.

G-Pa is my reason for living right now. I make sure that he is taken care of. I can do that. Save for G-Pa what the fuck is my purpose?

Where will I land?

10 MINUTES LATER

The question is also where do I want to land? My House? Home Town? The Holy City? The pavement? It would be easy to give up and just stay with and depend on Family financially and in every other way. But, then I might as well be dead, right?

I don't know what I want and I sure's the fuck don't know what to do. The right thing? Yeah, that's worked out well in the past.

Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

PS: Thank you Mom for wanting to make sure I'm okay.

PPS: I wish I had dreams.