Rewind

If I were to get into a time machine and go back three months, I'm not sure I would believe that my life could be in the shambles it is in right now. Go back a year and I'm not entirely sure I would believe it either. Go back two years, and I'd probably laugh my ass off. And that takes into consideration the fact that the last three Octobers and Novembers have left me a disheveled mess on the brink of a drinking problem. I always seem to bounce back in time for Christmas though.

October-November 2013
So my first boyfriend, E, and I split up in October 2013. I literally thought I would spend the rest of my life with this guy. I mean, I dated him for the better part of four years. The way he ended things lacked all traces of tact and consideration. He literally said "I'm breaking up with you," wearing a sweater I bought him the night before, and then asked me to get lunch with him immediately after. I'm also relatively certain it took him less than twenty-four hours before he was willing to jump back into bed with me. He used the possibility of getting back together as a bargaining chip for the whole fall and used it to mold my behavior. When we got back together on Thanksgiving he told his friends that I was "working on my problems," and I would "be more reasonable," and that I accepted all responsibility for the break up. The only thing I should have been thankful for that Thanksgiving was that when the day started I wasn't his girlfriend.

October-November 2014
In the beginning of October 2014 I started dating my best friend, A. I spent most of middle school and all of high school pining for him and wishing my life would turn into a rom-com where he would confess his undying love for me and we would ride off into the sunset happily ever after. Part of that happened. He did confess that he had been in love with me for years, and then he begged me to skip work to spend the day with him before his leave ended and he had to go back to the UK. Our relationship lasted just under two months because he would actually ignore my messages. When you live 3000 miles away from the person you "love," you don't just ignore their messages. At least not for five freaking days. I can handle not talking to my significant other for a day, or longer with good reason, but when you have internet and I see you posting shit, not responding is NOT okay.

October-November 2015
We were just over a week into October when J and I broke up. It is honestly the most civil break up I've had, and we've hung out like normal, civilized humans since. I don't think I've ever been this torn up about a break up though. We officially dated for just over two months, but we had been seeing each other for almost three. I still think about it every day. I still just don't understand why we had to find each other when everything was so hectic. He spent most of Thanksgiving night drunk texting me, and he comments on everything I post on social media. He responds to my texts faster than he did when we were dating, and I'm pretty sure that means that this lurking feeling that ending things was a mistake is mutual. I'm pretty sure it isn't really over, and I hate to be that girl. I hate being that girl who says "yeah, we broke up, but, like, I don't think that it's really over." I'm from Long Island and I pride myself on not being like all the other girls here. I enjoy being the girl that guys are fascinated by because I like books, I hate shopping, and I take shots of whiskey like a champ. And because I can factor third order polynomials in my head, but that might just be J.

Aside from all of the relationship bullshit that happens in the fall, I'm struggling with school. The material isn't inherently difficult, but I fell behind and I've barely been treading water since. I've never been this awful of a student and I know I have valid reasons why I'm not doing well, but deep down I keep thinking that I must just be an idiot, and I mustn't be good enough. Work has gotten pretty hectic too. I'm doing a lot more floating between centers at work. I work six to seven days a week and I go to three different locations. And the icing on top of the crumbling cake that is my life: my grandmother was just admitted to hospice. We don't really know how long she has left, and I'm not too keen on watching another person die. I've done it. There aren't words to describe the sick sense of relief you have when you think they've stopped breathing and then the dread when they take another gasping, shaky breath in. Cancer kills so fast, but so slow. At the end it's just sitting, and watching, and waiting for them to take their last breath. I know I need to go spend time with her, but I keep putting it off. There's always a birthday, or a game night, or a work function that I can distract myself with. I'm not okay with watching her turn grey, seeing her lips chap, sitting there when she can't feed herself anymore. I just don't want to do it. And I keep praying that she'll make it through finals because I can't miss school. So I'm actually an awful person. Or that's how it feels.