As I stand here on my own two feet…With little help from my friends so sweet…

This weekend has been one of those that leaves me feeling a little less than accomplished.  I did get a lot done, but I feel like I got all of the wrong things done.  I’m still nowhere near a decision on what classes I should be taking or what road I should be on.  I’m no nearer to wanting to go back to that school and stand up in front of those teenagers another day.  The sad thing is, I don’t want to sit here and think much either.  I’d probably give anything to be on a treadmill right now with my Zune.  I could probably do some serious damage to some mileage.  Maybe that’s what I’m missing… a workout.

I wrote my brother about the whole switch to a computer job.  He offered some great advice, but he failed to see a few major parts.  He admitted he knew nothing about Web Design and its certifications.  No harm done, I simply wanted to do it because its something I’m really interested in.  He also cautioned me against Computer Programming (not the first person to do it and probably will not be even close to the last).  He urged me to go the road that he has gone but has cautioned me that its low-paying entry jobs for a few years until I get noticed and gain knowledge.  Then again, you can’t get much lower than 26k a year and 30 teenagers every 90 minutes. 

I’m at the bottom.  And its not being at the bottom that is bugging me.  I thought that this would be my one move I could be so excited about.  And I have been.  I still am.  But if I could just change the scene somehow.  Its the scene that is bringing me down.  I can’t handle being cussed and bad-mouthed and ignored… And I know its not karma coming back at me either!  I was never like this to an adult.  I would never dream of even THINKING some of the things these kids mention right in front of me.  With no embarassment, no second thought. 

The thought of going into Wilderness Therapy still nags at me.  I’m not in the shape I’d need to be and my grandparents are deteriorating to the point where I think I’m going to need to find a job where I can stay at home with them a lot sooner than I had anticipated.  That’s a whole different horse for a whole different day.  Wilderness Therapy would take me away from here 12 days on, 12 days off.  It would take me out of phone’s reach for 12 days at a time.  Being that I am the only one here to look after them, I couldn’t do it.

And Pap.  Poor Pap.  They’re talking about giving up their Pinehurst membership because he is quickly losing his ability to golf.  The man watches golf, plays golf, talks golf… and the only time I’ve ever watched him read was when I got him a golf magazine when he had his knees replaced.  Within the next year he’s going to need more help than my poor 80 year old grandmother can give him.  If his mind keeps going the way it has for the past year, he’s going to need constant supervision.  He’s going down so fast, I’m beginning to wonder if I’m going to be able to pick up the pieces. 

What do I do now?  I’m 27!  I can barely keep the pieces of my life straight.  No one is supposed to care for their grandparents alone at 27.  My mother should be the one worrying about this stuff.  My mother was the one who promised “no rest homes,” a promise I’m being held to in her death.  I haven’t even been teaching for a year and by the time I hit my second year, I’m supposed to drop my life and my job and take care of them full-time?  How am I even in the least qualified to do this?  I can’t even remember to take my vitamins, let alone a full medicine regime for someone else who refuses to admit anything is wrong.  And where am I supposed to go for help?  Pap has a sister in Texas that would help and I have a brother in Arizona that would help… but that doesn’t help us here in NC.  Are we supposed to uproot ourselves too?

A part of me thinks that this is just another test.  Part of me thinks that I’m being incredibly selfish.  Maybe that’s why so many things never worked out for me… God was just making sure I didn’t get so settled and happy I couldn’t do what would be expected of me in a few short years.  But how do you know?  And (here’s the selfish part…) when do I get to do the things that I want to do?

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