I need a hug. A big, long, it's-okay-you're-safe, enveloping HUG. It has been a rough two weeks and, if we're being perfectly honest, it isn't getting better this next week. I know I'll be okay and I know that I will make it because I have an amazing Father who takes care of me and I know that I've been give an amazing network of friends and family that love and support me. But I really need a hug. And the two people that can make me feel safe and comforted like that aren't here. One's in Sherwood and I'll get to see him this weekend, so that's a major plus. The other, though . . . well, he's just not here right now. And won't be for a while. And there's circumstances. Eh.

I should be writing my lab report for Biology about now. I've gotten some of it done . . . and by some of it, I mean not much at all.

My mom is still in the hospital - it's been a week now. Here's the thing: this is routine for me and my family. This, however, never makes it easier. I've become a pro, however, at fooling myself and everyone around me that it doesn't freak me out and that I can go throughout my day without worrying. IT'S A LIE. A huge lie. It scares the crap out of me. Every time my dad calls (while she's in the hospital) I'm worried that he's going to tell me she's gotten worse or they've found something awful or some such other thing. The rational part of me knows this isn't what's going to happen about 99% of the time . . . but it happens. Not very often, thank God. They (well, really, me) have made me paranoid. If my dad calls at an odd time or several times in a short span, I immediately think it has to do with my mother and that they're rushing her off to the ER again. It's sad. What's worse is that my mom being in the hospital makes our relationship absolutely wonderful. I call her at least once a day, usually two or three times, to check on her and make sure she's okay. My patience with her is 100x more than it normally is and I'll answer just about any question and talk to her about anything and everything. My relationship with my mother should not be dependent on her health. What kind of daughter am I? I love my mom, I do. She's an amazing woman and one of the most people-focused humans I've ever met. She'd give you every single thing out of our house if you needed it. I've watched her try. It's so easy for her to know people and I don't know anyone that doesn't like her (we're not talking about annoyed, that's a different subject). But there is something about this woman that gave birth to me that irritates the living daylights out of me. I adore her and I'd do anything for her, but I can't seem to control my temper when it comes to her. And I hate it. I shouldn't be so angry toward her and I don't know what's wrong with me! I tell people that her being in the hospital is normal now and that I'm fine, really, and that she's okay. She's not okay. She's a really, really sick woman and I'm scared to death that I'm going to lose her in the next year or two and that she won't be around anymore. I don't know what I'd do if I lost her. I know it will happen some day, but I don't want that day to be soon. I want that day to be 20, 30 years down the road when I'm married and I have kids and she's seen them growing up and they get to know their grandmother. I hate that she's so sick and that most of it can't be fixed because she did it herself by not controlling her diabetes and taking care of herself. I don't like her being in pain and constantly ill. She's so miserable most of the time, but you don't know it because she won't admit it to most people. I'm so proud of her for finally listening to the doctors and me and my dad - for changing her lifestyle (a big change, too) and making a huge effort to start living a healthy life. She's done such a good job and I so wish that it would fix the damage she's done, but it won't. Her lifestyle change will basically just keep her alive longer, it can't fix the damage she's done in the 14 years of not controlling her diabetes. I'm so grateful the doctors got her attention, though. Because she wouldn't listen to me and I'd given up . . .



And. Now that I've released all that. I should go finish (start) my lab report.

Ciao!
Jen