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Princess Life…….with a dash of Panic and Depression

May 20, 2018

I’m sitting at the train station in Vancouver. I got the mom-bat-call this morning from Lori. She fell while running last night and managed to break her tibia and needs surgery. So, I’m off to help out for God knows how long.

The last time I visited I stayed for a week. Lori wanted to take a day to herself so I took over care of the fart-face for a day. That little brat is getting to be quite a handful. At some point the fire alarm starting peeping and one of the dogs who obviously has some emotional issues began trembling with fear. Between wrangling the poop face, calming the dog, trying to replace the battery and stop the beeping…..which is near impossible and attempting to wash dishes and clean up a bit… was quite a day. By the end of it, I was pooped. I forgot how much work it is to take care of a kid and try to be housewife. It sucks.

When I called Mr. Canada that night I told him, “I miss my princess life.”

Life in East Van is just that. I get up when I want to, do what I want when I want with no responsibilities or expectations. And so far, Mr. C seems genuine in his assertion that he doesn’t care what I do as long as I’m happy. Of course I try to contribute to our little household. I wash the dishes everyday and take care of the laundry. I sweep the floors and have by now rearranged just about all of his belongings. I’ve been making things and painting and writing. I’m trying to “build an audience” with instagram which I hate doing but I’m told this is the way to market yourself. I have an etsy store with 0 sales. And I’ve been editing these blogs with the hope that maybe somebody might want to make a book out of them one day. It’s a pipe dream, I know but if I don’t try I’ll regret it.

I love Vancouver. I feels more like my kind of city. I’m not sure why exactly. I love the views. The skyline against the mountains. Easy access to water. I finally got my bearings and I can pretty much find my way home from anywhere. It’s a surprisingly walkable city. It’s dense. Mr. C and I go for long walks once or twice a week. Sometimes we go through Chinatown and stop for pork buns. Sometimes we walk along the waterfront. I like that we do that together.

I have a tee tiny craft corner of our studio apartment. I make my silly unicorn thingees and I started making Virgin Mary’s with felt, paper, canvas and glitter. I’m pretty excited about that.

I still have my depressive episodes. I haven’t told Mr. C this, but I started alternating my meds, skipping one or the other every other day. I’m trying to stretch them out. I’m terrified of not being able to get my refills and running out. That would be bad. I thought I was doing ok for a while, then I had a nice little dive into depression the other day and decided to go back to full dosage, at least for a while.

Sometimes I have mini panic attacks about what I’m doing and where I am. I’m terrified of what will happen if it doesn’t work out between us. Every time something goes the least bit wrong or I have a hint of doubt……I start thinking about what I will do if I have to leave. Go back to Lori’s? Go home to Avoyelles Parish? I don’t even have enough money to drive my Element back to Louisiana. It’s terrifying and I find myself up at night hoping I’ll just die in my sleep instead of facing another life do-over.

It sounds extreme but I think that’s just how my fucked up brain works. Damn French-Cajun inbreeding. We’re all screwed up.

So…..I’m living the high life…..sort of. But for the next week or so, I’ll be mom-momo-caregiver.

I miss Mr. C already.


From → Rantings

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