Sinful

here i go feeling sorry for myself again. i *think* im finally beginning to understand what it feels like to be depressed. this is a milestone for me... admitting defeat. its even harder to admit when you spend your entire life pretending that things arent so bad, and then one little thing finally takes you down for good. maybe this time it isnt such a little thing.

and now i'll explain. today i went over to the cave (my grandma's... if youve never heard me talk about going to the cave or visiting with the bat, then maybe you dont know me as well as you think you do.) we started talking. the bat is one of the few people in my life that i cant pretend with. and leaving things out - forbid actually flat-out lying to her - is not something that happens often. she picks up on things better than most people, so its hard to hide stuff from her, even for just a short while. bottom line: nobody hides anything or lies to grandma, ever...

back to where i was going with this. my grandma and i were talking about various family members and their assorted issues and afflictions etc. so then i started feeling sorry for myself and blurted out 'at least they arent dying a slow painful death.' she stared at me. then she said 'and neither are you...' but didnt sound to sure of herself when she said it. and i finally broke down and told her that im really sick. damaged, almost broken, possibly beyond repair. and she cried. we both cried, though i did my best to hide it. i told her about the doctor making me stay quarantined for a week and the labs and tests and abdominal x-rays and being exhausted and sick all the time. the explanation for the weight loss (53.5 lbs now... starting june 19). things id been hiding (very poorly) from her. like i said, she doesnt miss much.

so we're sitting there talking about whats wrong and what can be done and i explained the waiting game - labs and tests again monday november 12 and then ill find out final results on the 19th. and still, she sits there bawling her eyes out, and then i felt bad for telling her, because i hate her worrying about me more than she already does. nobody likes to see their grandmother cry. probably hitler didnt make his grandma cry either... though im not nearly as bad of a person as hitler was.

she cries and cries and cries. its breaking my heart. and i tell her that technically we shouldnt really worry so much about whats wrong until the second set of labs come back. and that its my cross to bear, and she says 'well, it may be your cross, but ill be carrying it right along beside you.' THAT made me cry even harder. so then i find myself turning her own long-ago spoken words back on her. i reminded her that she had all these little inspirational notes stuck in her 'private' places in the house... namely the one on her desk "let go, and let god'. imagine me, turning christianity back on my grandmother, who had raised me in a 'good christian home' from the day i was born. it was really hard for me to say that to her 'if you believe that god will carry your burdens for you then youre going to have to let him carry this one too. i'm not that worried. if i die, i know where i'm going when my soul departs this earth. it doesnt matter what happens in life after death, i wont be here to care anymore.' its really hard to tell your grandmother that you're ready to die. and mean it.

so mote it be.