Here's how I am . . .

Technically I’m not allowed to stay up this late, but I just got back from lab and I have had a lot on my heart. There has been so much happening these last few weeks. I wouldn’t know where to begin if I were to respond to it all. I had a long talk with my mom this afternoon that left me very emotionally drained—in fact, I desperately needed a good, hard cry and a shoulder on which to do it. I wasn’t prepared for lab, which hit hard, with Anna in a bad state (sick with vertigo) and things needing to get done. Pictures aren’t taken, stories aren’t edited (some aren’t even in), and our key writer/layouter hasn’t been showing up and probably won’t for a while. Now imagine this scene. Mary sits on the verge of tears and stressed to the max, editing a story. Anna and Josh are on the other side of the room.

Mary: Josh, your lead needs to be changed.
Josh: Yah, you can fix that
Mary: Uh, I’ll just leave a note hear and finish reading it. Oh, and you should see what this persons title is.
Josh: Oh, ok go ahead and call them.
Mary: Well, this is your article. You need to make the changes
Annabelle: (in rebuking tone) Mary!
Mary: Ya?
Annabelle: ya (I wish someone would tell me someday what “ya” really means when said that way.)
Now repeat similar frustrating situations several times. Add to it that your editor leaves you the work while she plays computer games and that Josh argues every basic point of journalism possible. There’s nothing like a know-it-all that doesn’t know anything (at least on this subject).

Yes, this is harsh, and it will get worse. But it’s been really hard finishing out the year. I have no idea where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing this summer. That has added anxiety. I think the #1 anxiety contributor is my family.

My mom has been going through bouts of depression and really needs me right now. My Grandma is causing angst and my Grandma back east is losing her mind. Talking to my mom, one feels the full impact of the fear surrounding the situation in the Middle East. She has God’s peace, but I can tell she thinks about my brothers all the time.

When the war first started, I learned quickly not to tell people about my brothers. They treated it as if they were no longer mine. People wanted to know about them for their own experience. My feelings for and about my brothers are very sacred to me. No, close friends, this does not apply to you—you may still ask about my brothers, I appreciate it—you know who you are. But there are those people who ask because they suddenly feel they have the right to know. Like the bigger the tragedy, the more public it becomes. The worst is when they want to tell you how to feel. Like you should be sobbing your heart out on their shoulder simply because they asked about a subject that is precious to you. I’m sorry, but if a stranger asks about my brothers, I WILL answer cheerfully. It is who I am. And yes, it is a lie if I say life is hunky-dory. But it takes more than just “how are you” for people to get the truth out of me anyways. Why would it be different with something so precious?

Anyway, it made me sad to hear that my mom found out about this too late. Her entire Bible study asked all the particulars and one lady even started crying. My poor mom is trying to combat depression and find support, and she is having to support others! Over HER sorrows! She was happy to get away and go to a Women in Business meeting where she has friends, but not close ones that would know. Unfortunately one lady did know and she asked. All the other ladies then began to ask and my mom had to repeat everything, the ladies gathering around and hugging her and asking more questions. Needless to say, it was emotionally destructive. My mom is my closest friend and it really hurts to know she’s going through this.

On top of it all, I’m losing my friends again. My little support group is breaking up. I haven’t had much time with them since spring break, and I don’t like the feeling of already having to let go. I will miss so many of you. ): The thought of going home where I’m more of a spectacle to be pitied or a support to my family is not pleasant. I haven’t got friends there. I haven’t even got a job there. I feel lonely and useless. My church seems to look down on Simpson and I’ve never been able to get close to the people. I think I’ve learned something valuable this year: There are few people that care. Never expose yourself too quickly, because most likely you’re exposing yourself to someone who just doesn’t care and, therefore, will hurt you with their carelessness. But when you find those few who do care, hang on to them and never let them go.