stress

Stress is coming at me in waves- I'm looking at life right now like "shit- what else do I want to do- so I don't have any regrets" I've got an interview with a vet tech school this week- I've come up with ideas for childrens books that I can write with my mom. I'm taking orders some crafts I've made and most important I'm spending as much time with my family as I can. It sucks that when something starts to rear its ugly head- things get serious.
My colitis is in full effect- and the skin on my fingers is flaking off like 2 week-old nail polish. I'm loosing so much hair, I'm about to order a wig- not kidding- I picked one out: Laine by Rene of Paris | Wigs.com - The Wig Experts
 
The ex emailed me... why, I have no idea- he asked me to call him; "hope all is well" (all IS well, asshole, I haven't had to worry a minute about what you're doing and how it will screw my life up) it's been over a year since I've spoken to him... notice I did not say "it was over a year since we spoke"  I haven't called him. I know its one of two things... a) he's high and bored; or b) he's high, lonely and bored... either way, the phone is not ringing- not from my line anyway- I did pass his number along to my dad as soon as I got it. :) Just in case the idiot forgets to make a payment on his loan... Like Daddy to be able to give him a "friendly" reminder, since last time he "forgot" to make payments... Daddy gave him a "friendly" reminder and the asshole changed his number- cause that's what you do when you're white trash and have collectors calling you- you change your number instead of paying your bills- idiot.
Having some internal struggles this year- Christmas- always a difficult time for me and my Dad... miss the family- the way things used to be- before people passed away or moved out of state... like clockwork- it happens every year. We go to midnight mass. Dad clears his throat, gets ready- and sings all Christmas songs (every verse) without the hymnal. He non-verbally challenges me EVERY year to do the same, and I'm sorry- it's been exactly 12 months since I've heard all 15 verses to "O Come All Ye Faithful" and I get a little fuzzy... good thing I can fake it :) But he wins, every year. At some point,  I end up running to the bathroom after we sing "Silent Night" because I've run out of kleenex that I've stolen from my mother, because, naturally- I don't have pockets. Every year, I look like an idiot, weeping, next to my dad who is trying to hold it together. It's a moment I'll never forget- and will probably be that much harder when he's not sitting next to me. I know this, because as the thought came into my head, the lump formed in my throat and I'm fighting tears. It's always funny- my mom will lean forward and give us the "mom-look" which translates in to "knock it off or Santa isn't coming" (cause that's how we roll- we still believe- we take turns filling stockings and still have gifts come "from Santa"- don't judge our traditions)
My dad doesn't want to put up a tree this year. Not because he can't- because numerous people have volunteered to come put it up for them- but because he doesn't want to. My mom thinks we'll put up the village this year, so we can all sit around the Department 56 Christmas village set up on a card-table in their house, and gaze at it on Christmas morning... yeah, not going to happen. They're getting a tree up... I'm going to do it. I refuse to have that as a memory- if that was the case, we should have gone to Mexico for Christmas- so there is no memory in Indiana- at all. I'd be fine with that. I've got my bags in my living room- I can pack a bag back up, lets go.