Long Days

Every year, I think to myself that life has to get better. That I can’t be more unhappy, that my home life can’t get more miserable, than it already is. And every single damn time, I am wrong. Things can get worse.

In August, we lost one of our rabbits, Domi, but also our 18 year old beagle, Molly. That was like a suckerpunch, honestly. I’ve lived more years with Molly than without her. She came to us this sad, neglected little two year old beagle who didn’t understand toys, bones or why there were three excited little girls crowding around her; she arrived the day after my 11th birthday, and one of my friends was staying over.

And she came with us, across two states and at least half a dozen moves, if not more. She was a beautiful, wonderful dog and she just… wore out in the end. She had various medical problems but in the end, she was just old.

Plus, my dad is living with us at the moment. He is really hard to live with. Like, he gets really angry and nasty when he can’t find specific things to eat. He doesn’t ask us to buy them or buy them himself, he just expects them to appear. It’s sure as hell not helping my depression. I’m getting worse again.

And my sister moved home from Sydney. Wow, that’s been a shock to the system. On one hand, we are really similar, which causes us to clash but also bond. So similar, I find myself saying things with a similar inflection to my sister and not realise it until I’ve said it. Or I’ll make a gesture that she makes.

On then other hand, we’re different. Very different. She’s lived away from home for five years – two years at boarding school, three years at university – by herself. We’ve both got different experienes, different ‘codes’ of behaviour, and I just feel very hunted and crowded with her home. `

So, yes, August has been hard. And my sister is home indefinitely, my father has no jobs coming up that will take him away from home, so I’m stuck in this horrid environment, making me sick and sadder.

On one hand, I’m so ready to live by myself, by my own rules and have a life after being stuck in an unhappy place for so long. On the other hand, I am so goddamned terrified. I like to plan and outline and prepare myself and every little detail. That’s way harder to do when it’s just me by myself.

And right now I’m tired, angry at my father (it has been a very long night) and waiting for my mother and sister to get home and waiting for my naughty, evil little cat to come home.

Tomorrow’s another day, I guess.