msjessica's Diaryland Diary

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because i was born into it

christmas....

well, almost christmas. i'm in queensland. it's hot. everyone here is sleeping in the middle of the day, pretending to be dead, wanting to be ~not here~.

i'm sitting outside, not even in a breezy spot, in a sort of out door sauna of an area. i am trying to feel most alive. i am trying to not hide away. underneath the half a 25mg doxylamine and 24mgs of suboxone and a few beers, i am trying to be alive. i have a cold beer and a hand fan (although i can't use the fan while i'm typing, but i was using it earlier while reading a book).

my mum is depressed and hard to reach. impossible to reach, so far. it's hard, and infuriating, and frightening. i wish i could reach her. there was a problem with her phone bill that i helped (try) to sort out, on it we saw a 96 minute phone call to me that cost her $96. I don't think our talk minutes from the last 3 days would equate to 96. she has all but shut down. i don't know how to reach her.

there are surprise visitors here as well as myself. her partners son, his wife, their two children. they were meant to come boxing day but something changed and so they arrived last minute the same day i did. extra stress is certainly not what any doctor would order for my mother. it also means there's hardly any chance for her to even begin to think about relaxing, for us to try and talk for 96 minutes. she had been doing so well.

she is depressed. she doesn't really know that language. she should. she should by now. but i don't think she does. she is an ostrich. it is not healthy. this time last year i felt through all the work she'd done, we'd gained another 10 years together. since i saw her 3 weeks ago, i feel like they've been taken away again. i'm not sure how to say that to her, how to help her. i don't even have a chance to with all these other people around. they are selling the farm, so this is likely the last time i will stay here, and it's not at all how it usually is. i have some anger towards her, but i know the anger is really just fear and selfishness. i don't know how to help, and plus, what good is it - she has to help herself?

last night i dreamt of holding a kitten while it died, and then eventually exploded in my hand. it was gruesome. that wasn't even really the worst part of the dream though i remember it the most vividly.

everywhere is change, and this feeling of almost-death. it's coming. a sickness, inevitability, old age. what is there to be done. i drink, medicate, try to feel the most alive, suffer/relish in the heat.

4:03 p.m. - 2015-12-23

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