Endless Thoughts

Dear Diary, 07/01/2015

Its currently 10 o'clock at night and I still can't sleep. Dad told me to, "Just shut your eyes and sleep already Monster". His words never help nor when he uses my awful nickname. I've always hated that nickname at least Mom's nicknames were sweet and loving not rude and hurtful. I miss Mom a lot, I wish she was still here. I keep having vivid flashbacks of the day she died. I think its time that I write it all down so I can go back to it and confirm that its what I keep seeing in my dreams or whenever I close my eyes.

It was May 11th of this year, Monday. Draven and I had left for Surry school's like every other normal day and while I came home, Draven stayed at school for tutoring and wasn't coming back home till later that night. I cracked open Mom's bedroom door to see if I could talk to her about seeing my friend later that week but she slumped over her bedside. I figured she was just asleep and there was a rule with my mom, "Do Not Wake Her Up!". She had a horrible time trying to sleep so the rule was spoken and never broken unless absolutely necessary.

So I chose not to examine further and just going on about my night. I had completed my homework with the help of my grandmother and made bracelets out of rubber bands till dinner time. When Draven came home it was straight to helping the 13-year-old with his homework and trying to get him to shower. Once that was all done I went to my Mom's room again. I had puked into the trashcan and after taking care of that I wanted to ask my Mom on what kind of meds to take to help me. I said "Mom", multiple times, even circling around her to see if she was breathing. I couldn't tell if she was breathing since she was laying on her stomach, eventually, I went to my grandma to get some help with waking up Mom. Obviously, it didn't work, everything my grandma did that would normally wake her up, so the two of us tried to flip her over and once we tried to move her we both smelled a foul scent of fecal matter. My grandma immediately dropped my mother's arms and went straight to our landline phone to call 911. That's when I started to break down but still was able to tell Draven to stay in his room and not to leave cause I didn't know what was going on or what exactly was gonna happen to Mom.

The rest of that night is still so clear after that, police and an ambulance showing up in our driveway, me, a 16-year-old girl, having to explain all of my mother's medical issues and as much of her medication as possible to the EMT's then being escorted outside and soon enough being with my grandfather and my brother outside. I had never seen my grandfather cry like he did that night, but it was worse when the Cheif of Police for our small town had to talk to me about how I found her and when I found her. Can you imagine how devastating it was for me to lose my mother to her own disease but your own father tells you constantly that she died due to her medications? No, no one can.

-S

Dear Diary, `` 07/03/2015

  Another night with me still up way too late with endless thoughts of mom. She was always so strong but she was weak to her own diseases and to the medication that was supposed to help her. I knew she abused the meds but it wasn't the medicine that killed her it was Lupus. It's hard to explain Lupus but it is a disease that is "an inflammatory disease caused when the immune system attacks its own tissues", at least that's what Mom always told me. I miss her.

I don't know how she'd feel about Dad's actions and forcing Draven and me to live with him. He never understands us, but mom did. Mom always listened to us about how much his words and his wife's words would hurt us emotionally or mentally. She always said that she'd have to reprogram us to be our normal selves after our mandatory summer visitation to see him. I hated it just as much as she did and now without her here on this earth to talk me down from going crazy I am actually scared that I will never be the daughter she raised. I feel like I am living an endless lie around these people that don't quite understand me as a person and only see me as an "overdramatic girl who just misses her mom". No, I don't just miss my Mom, I miss my old life. I miss not wondering what's gonna be for dinner, not having to make dinner at many later times because the adults are too lazy to make dinner themselves, and last I miss my good home-cooked meals from my grandma who'd put some flavor to her food. Then, of course, my Dad brings up "school", like I give a darn about school right now but since school starts in August here in Ohio. I just wish hed actually ask us about this stuff rather than throwing us into it expecting us to conform. Heh, I guess I am my mother's daughter cause I want to rebel against him and his wife. Would she be proud of me if I did rebel against them?

-S

Dear Diary, 07/10/2015

No freaking surprise that I am writing this entry at 11 o'clock at night, I am just glad I have this to help record my thoughts since I can't sleep well or at all. I have been going to therapy for losing Mom and all I can say is I don't like my therapist but I can't tell Dad that. The therapist says I have PTSD, but Dad says its bull and that I don't that I am just overdramatic and the therapist just believes my overdramatic butt too much. Yes I am hurt by what he said, for obvious reasons but I decided to look up what PTSD actually is and I saw why the therapist said that I have it. I did tell the therapist about my nightmares and about how endless my thoughts have been about my mother's death and how the nightmares have basically been just flashbacks of the night I lost her. The therapist decided that since Dad isn't going to take the medical route on how to help me heal a bit easier, they suggested that I continue to do these diary entries and then talk to them about issues not only involving my mother's death but my home life.

  Nothing is ever good enough for my step-mother, Robin. She doesn't like how I act like my mom and how much I sound like her. I hate to burst her bubble but I can't change that about myself, I lived with my mother all my life ofcourse I am going to sound like her and have some of her tendencies. I don't know what to tell her or Dad about that. I get in trouble for every little thing anymore, if I stay in the basement for too long I get the crappy comments about how I've finally come out from the "dungeon" because they have to make me feel like I am doing something wrong for trying to avoid conflict between the step-sisters. Trista is always ready to rat out any chore Draven and I don't do to Robin or how we won't listen to her about something stupid, her main target is usually Draven. Meanwhile, we have to deal with Chandler, who I think is bipolar or something because one day she will be super chill with us then the next the littlest of things will get her to jump us with calling Robin or texting her whatever we are doing to annoy her. 

No matter what we do, we will never be good enough for them. No matter how hard we try to please these people we will never be good enough for them and in my honest opinion, I don't quite care. Dad can have his talks with me all he likes it won't change my opinion on them or him. The fact that he talks with me about his own personal life way too much to the point where I have information that could ruin his marriage. but I am too nice of a person to actually ruin my own father's marriage. Though there are days when I want to be selfish...

-S