Notes from the Road, #24: The Waiting Place

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It’s been a little over a month since my mom died, and now here I am, in the waiting place. It’s my first holiday season, completely alone. Up until this year, it was just us and our holiday pizzas, the decorations, and whatever Christmas specials aired on network TV.

We went to a Christmas light display in town before she became too sick to drive, and it was before the diagnosis. I went back the following year on my bike, before they moved to a suburb so far out of our way it’s not even funny.

During the past two years, it was nothing but go, go, go, go, go. Every single day. It didn’t matter if I was sick. The weather didn’t matter either. That shopping list my mom drummed up of whatever she thought she needed, wanted, and had to have was more important, lest I endure the endless nagging, wheedling, begging, and whining about it.

Every day, I lived in fear that I’d get COVID. I’m still scared deep down, even though I’m fully vaccinated. But I’m trusting this vaccine, and wearing a mask where businesses and services require it, and as a personal favor to those that don’t.

I had literally zero time for anything. My day job, and this blog, were the reason I pulled multiple all-nighters in a row, and why I slammed down the Bangs like I did. I tried to get help a year ago, but the ones I sought help from made it clear they couldn’t be bothered. By the time someone jumped at the chance to help, it was pretty much all too little, too late.

The ones who stepped in to help in the last several months, almost a year of my mom’s life were a welcome sight, by and large. I’ll talk about this in the e-book I’m working on about what we’ve been through. I’m only about 10,000 words into it, by the way.

I guarantee you, I’m never doing this to my kids when they come onto the scene. I’ll do whatever it takes to have enough money for an in-home care team if (or when) something should happen to me. I’ve also got plans to set up investment portfolios for them, along with college funds and CDs they won’t be touching until they graduate high school or turn 18, whichever comes first.

Now, all I got is time. Between job hunting, the few assignments I’ve been able to take on through my current role, and sorting through my mom’s things to donate, sell, or put out on the curb as a freebie, it feels like a place of limbo.

It’s a place where I don’t wanna die, but don’t really wanna live either. Things have been slow on the blog, and to be honest, I haven’t wanted to post. I can’t even begin to describe how angry I am about that. Idgaf what happened, to me, it feels like it’s worse than unacceptable. I feel like I need to step up my game and do better.

On the other hand, let’s pretend this is more than a one-woman show. Not that that’ll ever change, but for now, let’s just pretend it has. If I had a contributing writer, and I find out this is what they’ve been living like, I’d totally understand if they needed to take a breather for a bit.

Gosh, I should really apply that to myself, and start practicing what I preach, haha.

I’ve been cooking quite a bit lately, and I’ve got more ideas for some stuff that’s been living here for way too long. I’ve found some dry ingredients to mix together for some baked goods, and they’re living in the cheapie plastic meal-prep containers I got for my mom to use since she broke one of the glass ones.

In all fairness, I’ve broken one myself when I lost my grip on it due to my injury. Hakuna matata, though. Accidents happen, and I can always hunt for another one if I want.

I thought about throwing those plastic containers in the recycling bin, but now I’ve found a new use for ’em: dry ingredients for baking mixes. This way, they’re ready to go, just like my regular meal-prep. They’re also used for stuff that doesn’t have to be re-heated, or can be taken out without any real mess and relocated to something better suited to the microwave.

It didn’t have to be this way. I blame the tobacco companies, particularly the one that made her brand. I won’t name it, since it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s all the same shyt, with no point to its’ existence but to kill people and make money off of it. Fuck these companies and the horses they all rode in on.

Horrid Holidays, Shitty Christmas, Crappy New Year. What a miserable, rotten, hateful, worthless, shitty, garbage year this has turned out to be. I’ve been trying to forget this year ever since it happened. I’m so over everything. Everyone who’s made this the rotten year it’s been for me and my mom is officially out of my life, and everybody involved is on my shyt list. This also goes for their respective little fan clubs, enablers, and supporters.

I ran into one of them at the now-old store, and they had the gall to say hi to me, even after what they’ve done. WTF-ever. That’ll be the last time I go there, that’s for sure.

I’m thankful I no longer have to deal with any of those sorry fuckers ever again, and I hope for their sake we never cross paths going forward. That said, I hope they all find peace with themselves.

Over to you, readers. How are you holding up during this holiday season? Are you doing anything special? Can I just live vicariously through you? Have any takeaways from this post? I’d love to hear those, but more importantly, all the fun things you’re doing for the holidays, so drop ’em all like they’re hot, and let’s talk.

Missed the previous installments? Gotcha covered, right here: 20, 21, 22, 23

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