In which the holidays happen

My great grandmother died. The funeral was three days ago. I wanted to go, but we couldn't find cheap enough tickets at that short notice over the holidays. Also my mother's caught on to how often I hit myself with my own luggage and has considered the whole flying thing a bit of a hazard. She'd probably still let me go if it wasn't for the price, but as it is I spent the holidays out here in DC.

It isn't cold at all here. No snow. It snowed on my birthday but not Christmas. It's kind of weird, really. It was a nice enough Christmas anyway. Anya and Theresa came over for an hour or so. They gave me A Muppet Christmas Carol and Muppet Treasure Island. I love those films. They are some serious grade nostalgia and I will always fricken love the muppets. Of course, Theresa also yelled at me a bit. Apparently when Anya was in therapy she told a kid who was in the same office that she 'was possesed by a demon. Don't worry, it's gone now'.

That's why you don't show eleven year olds R rated movies, folks.

My mom got me a coat. It's purple and made out of thick cloth, with these big round buttons and pleats around the collar and on the bottom. I think it makes me look like a bald yet very pretty grown up Madeline. Put on a hat and the bald part goes away! I really love this coat, actually. It's warm and pretty and I have decided to wear it everywhere.

So the holidays were good. I can't really stop thinking about my great grandmother though. I mean, I hadn't talked to her for years. I liked her, but we were never particularly close. I have a big family so it's hard to be really close with everyone. And she usually kept to herself. I'm not even sure I know her name. Yet she's blood, and I really did like her. Her whole death seems kind of distant.

Yet at the same time, it hit really close to home. A member of my family died. Aside from my great grandfather, which I don't really remember, I have had a pretty intact family. Now someone of my own bloodline's gone, and I feel like it's possible that I might be next. I mean, I was already aware of my own mortality. But now it feels even closer, more real somehow.

I can't really explain it. Her death means nothing and everything. I wish mourning could be clearer. Or at the very least less selfish.

Aside from all that, not much has happened.

In which I'm out of the hospital

So, I haven't been in the hospital this whole time. But there was a lot of in and out. I would get a little better, and they'd let me go. Then I'd get worse. Then I'd get worse, then I'd almost die and I end up spending a whole week watching soap operas and having my food be a little baggy poked into my bloodstream.

It has not been very fun for me.

At night at the hospital, it gets very quiet. There is noise, sometimes, but it is the closest to silence I can get nowadays. I still crave that, the quiet. It's peaceful at the same time that it terrifies me.

I need that silence. Even though the last time I heard it, I almost gave up the life of a child. The time before, My friends died in front of me.

I still need it.

I still need him.

I feel terrible about myself. These sort of thoughts make me sick. I had thought I might have gotten away from him. But it isn't like I can just forget.

I have nightmares almost every night. Except when I'm at the hospital.

I think I've missed the nightmares.

In which I live to be twenty-two

So, yesterday was my birthday. I spent the morning in the hospital talking to Dr. Galfand, which was not really my preferred way to spend my birthday. He did actually want to keep me a bit and start another round of Chemo but Mom told him no. Which was awesome enough, but then I found out she had told him this because she had tickets to Les Miserables and I seemed well enough to go.

Best. Mom. Ever.

I'm going back to the hospital this evening, but I'm ok with that. Yesterday was awesome. The musical was great and mom took me to a fancy resturaunt and I didn't feel totally nausuous afterwards.

And it snowed.  Which I don't usually like, but it was kind of pretty.

I was actually going to use this time to contemplate my own mortality and think about what I've been through and that I never actually thought that I would live this long. But yesterday was too awesome for me to write a post like that. The world is good sometimes.

In which I come home

So, I'm back in DC now. Yeah, it wasn't a very long trip. Really I was just there for the wedding. Which was nice, by the way. It took place in my uncle's living room, everyone wore t-shirts, and one of their friends were the officiator. I don't know why, but for some reason this ceremony was more touching then a lot of weddings that I've been to that were held in a huge church. Funny how that works.

So, I made it home ok. Although I hit myself with my own luggage again. That's becoming a bad habit. It was a bit worse this time though, since I am sort of a porcelain doll at the moment. I have a huge bruise where I hit myself. I've also got a few bruises just from people bumping into me and stuff. Mom almost didn't want me to go, or at the very least not alone. But this meant a lot to Dad. And while we never had a very close relationship, this was important enough to do.

Plus, at this point I'll never know if it's going to be the last time I see him.

So I'm trying to get back into routine again. I see Dr. Forrester tomorrow. Dr. Putnam the next day. Dr. Galfand the next. And I think Dr. Galfand's gonna try and get me to stay in the hospital again. So I don't know when I'll be able to post again. We'll see.

In which I still can't update regularly

So, how long has it been? A couple months I think. I don't really know. I try to pay attention to that kind of stuff, but how long it's been since I wrote on a blog doesn't always seem that important nowadays.

Dr. Forrester says that the blog is actually a good idea. Since I've never been a diary person, and I sometimes feel really awkward talking to her. Dr. Forrester is my therapist. She's not actually a doctor. She went through a special school just for counseling and social work, so she can do this but there is no degree to it. I just call her Dr. Forrester for the mystery science theater reference.

She's really nice. I like her a lot and she has a really scary knack of figuring out where I'm coming from despite the fact that I've never said anything about it. At the same time, I don't think she can do me much good. She thinks I'm seeing her because of PTSD from my hostage situation encounter. Which is true. Kinda.

It's hard to work through issues when you can't tell someone what they are.

So, the blog was going to be my writing haven/therapy journal/whatever the fuck I needed. But I forgot. Because I do that. I did that before all of this. And now, whole chunks of time run through my fingers. It's hard enough to keep track of important things, let alone stuff like ranting to the internet.

I only really remembered because I am hanging out in my home town right now. My dad is getting married, and he wanted me there for the ceremony. I said yes of course, so now I'm at my dad's house, bored and waiting for him to get married tomorrow.

And the weird thing is, the last time I was here was when I started my first blog. Everything's going into a weird circle. Which is unnerving. And at the same time, nice.

Maybe while I'm here I can take back some normality. Or go walk down the parkway. Or something. Anything. Right now, I'm just dying, slow but faster than most people. It wears on me a bit. More than the nightmares I still have or the moments where I could almost swear I'm tied to a chair in that basement again. More than the silence I both fear and crave.

The worst part is the waiting.

In which old habits Bruce Willis

First things first, I'm not a Manic Pixie Dream Girl. At least, I don't think so. I could be I guess, I used to have the weird and quirky thing down. But really I just liked the title. And the cool thing about blogs is that you can name them whatever you want.

If you haven't read my other blog, I'm AJ. Hi. You don't really need to read that if you don't want to. All you really need to know is that I had a sort of traumatic run in with a monster and I'm better now. Well, sort of better now.

My cancer is resisting treatment pretty well. And sometimes I feel... hollow. Like I'm not really in my head anymore. He stole my identity from me. And I still have nightmares. As much as I'm trying to move on, it's hard.

And the need to blog has been nagging at me. I am a writer. Writing's what I do. But my creativity has sort of left me. I don't have enough anything to think up stories. So once again, it's down to writing about stuff in my life. Part of me feels like by making this, some giant doom is about to fall on me. Maybe it will. I do have awful luck with that.

But I need to do something. So blogging it is. And people online are really really nice. So it's nice to be hanging out with them again.

I'll post later about what's going on in my life. Really, this was just to say hi.