Tsunami

Hi Kittens,

Shit has sort of been hitting the fan lately. The good news is, I've been coping to the best of my abilities - the bad news is, that usually involves self-destructive behaviors. The track playing over and over in the back of my mind is one of self-defeat and self-doubt. Sometimes I can stop the tape, but usually I can't. My gut is telling me that things are going to get a lot messier and more difficult to manage before they get better. The most I can do is hold out hope...
Work is kind of a mess, mainly because I don't hate it any less than I hated my last my job; although, the way it stresses me out is new, in a disenfranchising kind of way. Collectively, I do not think the employees at this particular company could feel any less motivated, which makes for a sometimes suffocating atmosphere. I would love to find something else, but all of the jobs I've applied for in the last few months have not even had the decency to send me a rejection. I doubt working for a different company would make much of a difference, because most companies are awful in their own special way. On my bad days, I feel trapped; on my good days, I focus on my work and keep putting one foot in front of the other until the next holiday.
My uncle died and nobody told my family about his death. It got back to my father via the small town rumor mill and, after some investigating, he found out that my uncle underwent surgery at a hospital in New Orleans, where he died not long after. My father assumes that his body sat unclaimed long enough in the morgue to have been cremated by the city and laid to rest in pauper's field. There were no services held and, not only did we not know, no one else in our entire extended family knew either. The whole thing makes me very sad.
The issue weighing most heavily on me, however, is my mother's illness and the shocking rapidity with which it progresses. I skyped with my parents yesterday to find out more about my uncle. My father grabbed my mother to come and say hello to me, as usual; but this time, when she sat down at the computer, there was not the slightest flicker of recognition in her eyes as to what was happening. She knew my name and I think she knew I was her daughter, but we were not able to exchange even a few sentences for her utter confusion. It left me speechless - there is no depth to my awe of her disease. I hate that my father is alone in taking care of her, but know that the time of his reprieve will come very soon. I imagine it will take a few months, at the very most; and, in the meantime, all I can do is wait for a phone call or an email, asking me to come home and help find full-time care for her. If I believed in god any more, I would be praying for the mercy of a swift and quiet passing.

In light of all of this, I can't seem to give a shit about eating healthy food and exercising.