It's My Fault, Even When It's Not My Fault

I've often complained about my Dad eating my food. He doesn't have any boundaries, if he finds it he eats it. So I hoard food. There's food in so many weird places- I've chocolate in a bag hanging on my door, there's chips hidden in the cupboard under the microwave and there's a cooler bag full of lollies that I've had over a year now. I buy junk food in large amounts, knowing full well I might lose half of it to a hungry father and if I don't, well there's enough food to last me for a looong time.

But Dad hates it. He gets pissed off every time he catches me hoarding food and annoyed when I produce food out of nowhere or when he comes into a room and realises I'm hiding whatever I was eating from him in fear of losing most of it to him. I do share, but cautiously.

So I'm trying not to hoard or at least not to be so obvious about it. But when I don't hide it and he finds it, he eats it. Like he did tonight- he found my Maltesers' show bag from the Easter show and ate half of what was in there.

But I was at work when he did it. My brother informed me of the theft when I got home, and I lost my temper over it. Unfortunately this happened in front of Dad.

And he became upset, saying if I didn't want it eaten I should have hidden it. He then went to bed without making me make him a hot chocolate, thus earning me a lecture from Mum about being understanding of his condition and him in general. And I get it, I really do. But this isn't a new thing, he's never had any respect for my property and it's so hard at the moment to know if what I'm going to say is going to piss him off or not. Sometimes it's like talking to a land mine, with a buried anger just waiting to go off at an unknown provocation. But then other times he's just like he used to be, before. And I forget about the landmine until suddenly it's back again.

I apologised to Dad when he got back up. It's just easier.

Mum said I should go talk to someone about the situation (in general with Dad) and my feelings. But... I don't do well with being open with feelings- just like Dad. I doubt it'll be of any help.

I need to go on exchange so badly. I need to get out of this house. Even if it's only for six months.

Emotional Yoyo

My Nana had a stroke this morning.

Today, after spending hours with her, my Dad told my brother and I to prepare for the worst then took Mum, Nana's daughter, out for coffee while we did the shopping.

Nana has lost control over the left side of her body. She can talk but not swallow, and well it's not like she was making a lot of sense talking before this stroke with the dementia. While she might improve, she might not and that's what we're preparing for.

I woke up so excited this morning and I'm still excited when I think about it. But it's so weird to have people congratulate you when you're seriously upset.

ENGLAND HERE I COME!

Well. Not quite yet. But soon! Because I AM GOING ON EXCHANGE.

After much waiting, Exeter has sent me an email confirming that they are offering me a place at their university next semester. I cannot tell you how glad I am to see that email- I've been so worried that I hadn't got it because it was taking so long. A feeling that wasn't helped when I got an email this morning asking for the second page of my application form as it had been lost and was needed.

But then I got it and I'm so HAPPY.

Oh gosh and now there's so much to organise...

But I got!

You know me?

Twice in the last few days, someone I knew from a very long time ago has recognised me the moment they saw me, name and all. And both times, I've had nothing more than a sense of familiarity until they explained.

The first guy was on the bus home from uni. He greeted me by name as I passed him and I spent three stops staring at him as subtly as I could, trying to place him. Then he came back and sat next to me, explaining that we did Scouts together and it clicked.

Only, I quit Scouts at least five years ago. This guy wasn't in my troop, I think I last saw him six months before I quit. So either he has a really good memory or I've not really changed in five years... Or I'm just recognisable?

Then today a guy came into my work and the moment he saw me he said hi. I instinctively said hi back as, well I'm a waitress if I don't acknowledge you my customer service needs loads of work. But he said it with familiarity and I spent the next 15 minutes trying to place him. Finally I made the connection he looked like a guy from primary school, and upon asking he confirmed my suspicion.

That's eight years-or so- since I last saw this guy. We weren't close friends, barely acquaintances while we were at school but he still knew me.

I don't know if this is just a load of coincidence or just me having a shitty memory to their good ones. Or am I just recognisable?! Just it keeps happening.

Here We Go Again...

So the day before yesterday my Mum told me some bad news, and then Dad confirmed it yesterday and added even more bad news to it- about my grandmother (who is my Grandma and not the woman currently in a nursing home due to Dementia)

My Grandma has both Cardio-Vascular Dementia and early onset of Alzheimer's disease.  The first one is pretty awful, it basically means that she's at a high risk of dying and there's bugger all they can do for her- the operation to help her is more risky than the disease itself. But there's no timeline for it, she could die tomorrow or live until her 100's. It's just more risk.

It's the Alzheimer's that is mostly upsetting me. I don't remember him, but I've heard stories of my Poppy and what the family went through when he had Alzheimer's. It wasn't pleasant, it wasn't fun and it took a lot out of everyone. By the end of his life, he didn't remember most of his children, including my mother and only randomly remembered one of his granddaughters. As I was two when he died, I doubt he even realised my brother and I existed or if he did I doubt he realised who we were to him. But for the most part, what happened to him is a sad story for me, not a reality.

Grandma will be a reality. I remember staying the nights with her, I remember visits with her and how she speaks, how she lives, what it's like to be loved by her. I know her and the thought of what happened to Poppy happening to her terrifies me. Alzheimer's progresses over a looong period of time, it's just a awful and slow process of losing a loved one.

A part of me is also worried about my travel plans, how this might effect them and then feeling guilty for even worrying about those. There is a plan in place for me regarding if something happens to Nana, for whom there is also fears regarding health. It will have to apply to Grandma too...

For now, it's mostly a minor problem. The people who run all the aged care services and Grandma's doctors are keeping her at home so it's mostly a thing to worry about in the future. But it's a future I don't find myself looking forward too.

I once said that both my grandmothers were going to live to see my 21st. I wonder if that was a good thing, or a bad thing?

Cute? Me?

So recently I was talking with a pair of my friends in a chatroom. I've never met these guys personally, we've only chatted in text based rooms (for the most part, I have had Skype and Pokemon phone calls with both) so they've never seen my face. So we got onto the topic of looking a lot like our siblings and one shared a photo of them with their brother. In return, I shared one of my brother and I.

And this person complimented me. Not like, 'Oh you look lovely' but called me beautiful and just described me as genuinely cute. Bemused at the reaction, I shared the rest of the post that photo was from and got called sexy in one of the photos. At this point the other person in the chat joined in, adding her voice to the chorus of me being pretty.

Well, firstly I cannot describe how good it feels to be described as pretty and beautiful and all those things. I don't wear makeup either and the photos were taken by my brother so I can't excuse away the compliments as being based on that or because the photographer was good. They genuinely liked me.

It's made me realise that every compliment I've gotten, mostly from my parents, has always either been about my face- my eyes are gorgeous, my hair looks great- or said with a qualifier. I would be a very pretty girl, if I lost some weight. You just need to lose some weight and you'll be a very pretty girl. Lose a couple of kilos and you'll look lovely.

Which is...not great for confidence. I want to lose weight but I also want to eat chocolate and at the moment that's causing a conflict where I'm not actually losing weight. It's tiring monitoring every bite you eat and often I cannot be bothered. So I've just been living with the idea that I'm not really pretty, I just exist.

And this chat has rocked my world with the idea that that might not be true.

Magic Week

Well it has been. So far my week has been BRILLIANT and my plans for the rest of it are only going to make it much better.

Sunday I met my favourite actor, Benedict Cumberbatch. The day was amazing (I did a write up of it here which I'm not going to copy and paste because it's 2000 words) and I met an awesome person, Anna, who kept me company for most of the day. It was lovely and worth it and he's so so sweet.

Monday was a bit meh because I had work but I picked up an extra shift at work which I desperately need. And I got to see some of the people I work with that I've not seen in ages because of the shifts I've been working which was nice.

Then came my birthday, today. About midnight people on tumblr started to wish me a Happy Birthday and that write up I did started to collect loads of notes. The people in chat wished me a Happy Birthday too, complete with a sing along and virtual cake. Which was incredibly sweet of them. Then I checked my email, at 2am, as I was going to bed.

I had my offer letter for exchange.

I am nominated to Exeter!

I'M SO HAPPY.

Plus tomorrow I go to the Easter show and Friday I have my birthday party.

Like I said, this is a magic week.