June 29, 2009 – To some it’s just another day. You get up, you go to work or school, you come home. Just another average day. But for me, it’s a day that has always played a large part in my life.

My mother was born on June 29, 1949. Today was her 60th birthday. A long and fun weekend in Las Vegas. Lots of drinks. Gambling for fun. Taking in a couple shows. My first time in Vegas. My mom’s first trip back since she was about my age or so. A weekend filled with smiles and crazy laughter. That’s how it was supposed to be. But instead, I spent the day alone, lost in memories of my precious mother. Missing her so much and wishing she was still here with me.

I’m selfish. I want my mommy back. I’m 28, soon to be 29 and I want my mommy back. I want her back for all he wrong reasons. Not because it would be better for her, but because I want to be held by her again, be able to kiss her cheek goodnight, come home and shout about the good things that happened. I want to be able to have those long talks with her. The talks that started as little chats about nothing and evolved into discussions four hours long. That’s why I’m selfish. She was in pain. Death was probably better because of how much pain she was in.

I was doing fairly well until about 7:30pm. Then two things happened. The first was that Chef Melissa turned on Pandora while we were on lunch and the song Up On The Roof by The Drifters came on. This was my mother’s favorite song. What Little Hands by Duncan Sheik was and is to me, Up On The Roof was to her. The song brought tears to my eyes. I quickly stuck on my sunglasses, grabbed my cell and went outside so no one could see the tears fall.

The second was that while I was outside, I got a notification that I had missed a call so I listened to the voicemail. It was my uncle (her brother) asking me how I was holding up. Saying that he knew how rough today had to be. That he knew I was strong and was holding up. That he knew I’d feel sad even though he knew I’d never cry or show my sadness.

Shows how well he knows me. After listening to the message, I couldn’t hold back. The tears flowed down my cheeks. I stood in that empty parking lot behind my class, the sun setting, the wind kicking up, and wrapped my arms around myself, allowing myself to cry my heart and pretend that it was my mother hugging me.

It’s been 1 year, 4.5 months. It’s easier now, yes. But it will never be easy. She was the biggest part of my life. My only parent. And, as it has turned out, the only biological family that I truly ever had.

I love you Mom. Happy 60th birthday. I know it would have been amazing, even if it was just the two of us.

My therapist diagnosed me today with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I’m to start medication next week for it. Basically a round of anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills. I didn’t want to do meds at all. So this was a blow to me. I’m not really sure how to feel about this. I thought I was getting better. And I think I was. But for the past couple weeks … I’ve regressed horribly.

I’m worried about a friend of mine.

Thursday I got a text telling me that I needed to contact the aforementioned friend because she had threatened to commit suicide. I know she has been troubled for months and that her depression comes and goes, but i didn’t know that it had gotten so serious.

Well I immediately started calling her and texting her. There was no answer so I continued to call and leave messages as I was texting others to see if anyone had gotten a hold of her. No one had heard from her in hours. So I decided to take charge of things.

I contacted the police department in her town and told them what I knew. I gave them her name and number since I didn’t have an address and they found her in their computers and promised that they would send someone over to perform a wellness check on her.

Well they did. And the last I heard, she was in the hospital for 3 days under observation (due to the Baker Act). Others have heard from her since. She knows that it was me that called the police. I’m worried that she’s mad at me. But at the same time, I don’t care if she is mad. I’m just glad that she was safe and that now her family knows.

As for myself, as much as I hate it, fear is my number one motivator. I’m afraid of many things. The biggest one is ending up on the street. I was told on Wednesday night that if I didn’t get a job and start paying rent by August, that my roommates would be kicking me out.

I understand that I have been here for 8 months. But in those 8 months I have had two jobs, I have been on welfare and I have gone back to school. I don’t just sit on my ass and take up space. I’m doing something with my life. It’s not my fault that in January my job laid me off due to lack of money. It’s not my fault that last month, Sanrio let me go after three days because of my school hours. And it is not my fault that welfare fucked me over and that now I am not eligible for 3 months.

This is why I didn’t want to move in with them in the first place. The only reason I decided to move in was because dealing with them was better than living in the street. But now I’m facing that again. I’m terrified yet again. I don’t know what to do. I keep trying and trying so hard. I don’t know what else to do. I’m not about to give up, but somedays it’s so hard to keep a smile on my face and to think positively. Somedays I want to just cut out and run. But that’s the cowards way out. And I am not a coward.

But for once, can I please get a break? Just a small one?

On the upside, I talked to my friend Irene last night for several hours. We hadn’t talked since like February and that was my fault. I wasn’t keeping in touch. I was so focused on just trying to get through day after day that I pretty much just dropped off the face of the earth. But we did in fact talk for like 3 hours and I loved every second of it.

I forgot what a warm, and honest person she is. I miss her.

Tomorrow I’m spending several hours job searching before class. Wish me luck and cross your fingers for me. I need every ounce of luck that I can get.

Interesting that I should find this tonight when I keep thinking that maybe I’m meant to not mean anything to anyone.

I know that I have friends who adore me. And I love and adore them too. But am I the most important person in someone’s life? I highly doubt that. Once upon a time I would have said yes. That I was the most important person to both my mom and my brother. But my mother is gone now. And my brother –

My brother got married in January. I had to find out from a mutual friend who called me to ask why I hadn’t told her. I am most definitely not the most important person in his life. What’s even sadder is that I don’t register anywhere in his life.

I am sad about it. But more angry than anything at all. What I’m saddest about when it comes to him is that the more I discover things like this, the less I want to see or talk to him. The less I want to make up with him. The more I want him out of my life. I think it’s officially time to cut my losses and forget about him.

He’s proven he doesn’t care and that he doesn’t want me in his life. It’s time to give him what he wants. A life without his sister.

I’ve been doing a ton of thinking lately. Maybe too much. But at the same time, it’s been very productive. I’ve thought about dumb things, small things, big things, the things I like to try and forget about (and fail). I’ve made some huge realizations and discussed them with Dr. Sheridan who 100% agrees with everything I have thought about.

#1 – My brother is a lost cause. He’s obviously decided that family isn’t important to him and I have discovered that yet again, blood isn’t thicker than water. I have people that DO care about me. That love me for who I am and what I am. If my own flesh and blood can’t do that, he’s not worth my pain.

#2 – I realized the other night that I no longer blame myself for what the Devil Boy did to me. I never should have blamed myself in the first place. I was never to blame. But I’m good at blaming myself for things that happen. But yeah. I no longer hold myself to blame.

#3 – It’s possible to move on when it doesn’t feel like you ever will. A few months ago, I thought I’d never recover from losing mom and being victimized. But I have. I still have flashbacks about the Devil Boy. I’m still afraid of a lot of things. I still think about mom and cry. Those are all going to take time. But I survived. And I’ve started to move past it.

#4 – It’s been 5 months since the last time I hurt myself. It feels dumb to admit that at 28 I have bruised, burned or scratched myself because of my problems. But I did. And that’s the keyword. Did. Not do. Did. Five months is a small victory. But it’s a victory.

#5 – So called “online friends” are actually better than so called “real friends”. My “online friends” know more about me, and have been more supportive of me than any of my “real friends”. My online friends ARE my real friends. Does it matter that I have yet to meet several of them? No. That doesn’t change how amazing they are. Besides, several of them and I are actually planning on meeting and I can’t wait for that!

#6 – Losing that job sucks because I desperately needed a job. I desperately NEED a job. But working for a company that can’t even deal with my school schedule for 2 months is NOT a job I want. What if a family emergency comes up? How would they react to that?

#7 – I already thought that volunteering as a camp counselor for Camp Del Corazon is something I absolutely wanted to do.  And after being at the Staff Interview Day yesterday, I’m even more sure. I want to do this. I want to be there for those kids and give them the best 5 day vacation ever.

#8 – Caring about people is tricky. Especially when they don’t care about you the way you care about them. Or the way you want them to care about you. You just have to accept that and move on.

#9 – It’s not too late. I will find someone for me eventually. But at the same time, it’s not even all that important right now. What is important is focusing on school. As of today I have two months til my graduation date. I need to buckle down and worry about school and choose my pastry arts school.

Like I said. I’ve been busy thinking.