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I turned in the final assignment for my final class. I can now officially put B.S. behind my name. While a part of me is thrilled to be finished, another part of me is trying to revamp my plan. Because the old plan isn’t going to work now.

The old plan was to go find a help desk job, get some experience and work my way up to network admin and live my life doing something that I enjoy. Except I can’t change jobs now, and I especially can’t take an entry-level IT job because I’m going to have some massive school loans that I have to start repaying  in November. That wouldn’t even be so much of a problem – I can figure that out – but my job is 3 miles from my house and I can’t give up the hours I have now.

Because MoC doesn’t have help in the afternoons and she really can’t be by herself. If something happened to her while I wasn’t there because I was off being selfish elsewhere, I would never forgive myself. And that’s when it hit me. This is not going to go away and it’s not even going to get better. This is it – until the end.

Today the occupational therapist was there when I arrived. MoC told her she didn’t really want to do anything – and I about lost my mind. I went outside on the patio instead. I was livid. I had to get out of that room or I was going to say something I would have instantly regretted.  Something along the lines of, “How dare you? How dare you fucking quit on me … on yourself? I’ve given you a pass because I thought you would stop being so self-destructive and selfish. But you’re willing to just sit there and let everyone else do it for you – but we can’t. You’re the only one who can bring yourself back from this and so what if it’s not 100%, who cares if it’s only 95%? Goddamn it, I miss you!”

I would do it for her if I could, but I can’t. And that’s what is killing me. It’s bad enough that this happened to her. The ups and downs of it are just god-awful and there’s no way I can know what it’s like for her – it must be a thousand times worse – but to be forced to watch her not help herself is the worst kind of torture. I have always said I would do whatever she wanted – always. I get wanting to give up. I get it. And I’m not willing to stand in her way if that’s what she chooses. She can make any decision she wants. But how can she not know how much it hurts me to watch it?

Which brings me to this blog post and this quote:

They will come back.  The right apology or a long heartfelt talk will fix everything.

It’s a natural hope, and, I guess, in some cases, it’s a rare reality.

Many times, though, it is not.

There are things that have been said or done that can not be undone.  And while that can often be overlooked, what cannot be overlooked is that those actions, words, events change the parties involved irrevocably.  We become different people… people who can’t be friends again.  Because who we were before is so very different from who we are now.

… no, I said I wasn’t going to talk about “Bridget” anymore. What’s the point? Well, the point was I was still holding out hope, even though I yelled at myself every single day (and let other people yell at me for it, too). Hope that things would change. That she would change.

Two weeks ago, that hope was burned at the stake, turned into ash and blown away by the wind.

I am the worst kind of fool – the kind who can’t see the plank in her own eye. I think I just butchered that Bible verse. Whatever.

Funny thing is, it rained the next night – the next three nights, actually. You know how I feel about rain.

That’s when I realized my faith was gone. Because for the first time in my entire life, the rain made me feel – nothing.

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