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Growth

I had a moment last night that showed me some real growth as far as my interactions with morons in the wild.

We went out to a show that I was covering for one of my four jobs. The room that the show was in was shaped really awkwardly, so it was hard to find a spot to take photos without blocking someone's view. So, I popped in behind a girl in a chair, and took a few pictures and a short video. (Please note: This was all in a span of less than 90 seconds.)

I was putting my phone in my pocket, when I smell a gust of stale beer breath in my ear. I look, and this bloated man with greasy grey hair says to me, "you know, you take up a lot of space."

I was instantly hot heated MAD. And embarrassed. I felt it coursing through my veins; that familiar tinge of anxiety and self-loathing that I haven't felt in quite a while. My face was hot. I looked at him and said, "oh, you do, too. Sorry!" And I walked back to where my husband was. Greasy said something else, but I…

Anger

The problem with my emotions is that I'm feeling them at the maximum level at all times. Sometimes my sadness feels like it's never going to end. I have a lot of days where I'm just fucking frustrated. But as I've become more able to notice my emotions as they come up, the one I see the most is anger.

I get angry when I think about my past. Thinking about any guy who I used or who used me from late 2010-2014 makes me furious.

Those years were HARD. Once I left my abusive ex (who honestly, I was only with because I wanted to escape my abusive mother), I spiraled out of control. I almost immediately ended up having an affair with a guy I had known since I was a teenager. I liked his band when I was young, and connected with him years later via Facebook. He is still one of the fucking worst people I have ever let into my life, and thinking about it makes me so mad.

After that guy, I dated a guy who I didn't like and I wasn't attracted to. In fact, he was incredib…

Tear It Down.

The reason Generation X is forgotten is because we're living in the reality our parents left to us. They believed in an American Dream; one where you had time and money to spend at the mall, being a good consumer. Buy, buy, buy. Wearing labels will help you make friends. Smell like this cologne so that someone will catch a whiff of it and then instantly want to fuck you. Read this magazine to learn how to lose that pesky 10 pounds that you don't actually need to lose. Go to college. Get a good job. Get married, have some kids. Live in a house in the suburbs, and have a mistress who works in your office.

And now, here we are. Tourists of these crumbling edifices where we learned how to be people. But also, where we learned to consume. Get all of your news from Facebook and Twitter. Take on that debt to buy all of the things that you think you need to survive. Then there's the neverending debt from when you got a degree that was rendered useless in one way or another by the…

One Month Later.

Since transplant, my mom has had hallucinations. When she was in the SICU, she kept telling us that someone was out to get her, and that we wouldn't believe what the hospital was doing. She kept showing me her incisions, which are huge and closed with staples. She was in ICU for around two weeks, and finally moved to the regular floor.

Since moving to that floor, she's had problems with mentation. Her thinking isn't there. She isn't always verbal. She goes entire days without speaking to her nurses. We go to visit, and she first asks where my husband is. If he's with us, she's excited to see him. Calls him by his name. But she doesn't use me or my sister's name. She will be trying to talk, and just blank out and start staring into space (or at the tv). She has 24 hour supervision, because she's tried to pull out her various lines.

It's hard to watch. I can tell that she knows what's going on; that she can't think straight or verbalize a…

Everything Changes.

Not more than an hour after I posted my last entry, everything changed.

My husband came home, and asked if I had gotten a call from a Cleveland number on my phone. I had, but I was on the other line with my sister, and it wasn't from the usual area code, so I didn't answer. So, they called my husband instead (he's third on the list of people to call, and my sister also had not answered the call). The call was from a transplant coordinator at the Clinic. They were calling to tell us that they had accepted a liver for my mom, and she would be going into surgery the very next day. I was beside myself. I felt guilty for not answering the call, but also remembered how I wasn't going to feel guilty about things like that anymore. I called my brother, who immediately broke out in tears, and he told my sister, who also started crying.

The next day, the coordinator called me at 7am, to let me know that the time of surgery was scheduled for 9pm on Tuesday. My husband had rearra…

Be Honest.

I went out to breakfast with my dad today. He had a vintage vanity that my sister was giving to me; I love everything about the vanity, so I wasn't going to let her just get rid of it. So my dad packed it into the back of his big ridiculous truck, and waited for a day that Kurt and I would be able to lug the damn thing up the stairs. We celebrated with various eggs and breakfast meats.

I called to get an update on my mom, as I do every day around mid day, and sometimes in the evening. I got a nurse today I had never spoken to; he had a very deep, matter-of-fact voice. I asked how she was doing, and he said she was stable, and about the same as before. Then, out of nowhere, he said, "you know, she's just going to be like this until she gets her liver. We're keeping her stable so that she can do that. But she's not going to improve until the transplant happens."

And for a goddamned second, that stung. But almost immediately, I appreciated his honesty.

My mom ha…

Thoughts.

I don't cry much. I've always felt the need to appear like I always have it together.

I was thinking about my mom last night. She's been laying in the hospital for a few weeks, again. I haven't seen my mom outside of a hospital room more than a handful of times this year. Things are getting worse before they're getting better.

I thought about how I haven't been able to go to my mom's house to pick her up and take her for a drive. We missed the farmer's market in Barberton this year. We didn't go to Amish Country to see the giant Cuckoo Clock. She got to see the seasons change from either windows on the 10th floor in downtown Cleveland, or from the screen of my phone.

There have only been glimpses, brief moments of the outdoors. Otherwise, it's all indoors. In a bed.

I cried the kind of tears that come from really deep within. Those grief tears. Those tears where even if you try and stop them, they keep coming.

I really needed to cry like that.