isolation

 I don’t know if anyone else does this but the more upset I get the more I isolate myself but the weird thing is that I do it in this way that no one notices because I become more ‘visibly’ outgoing.  I spend more time out with friends but I don’t really interact with them, I don’t really talk to them, or I talk about inconsequential stuff or the same old thing we’ve always talked about or have talked about recently.  Recently it’s been Luke.

Things with Luke are…I don’t know, at a stand-still I guess.  He’s going to move out soon.  We’re talking but things are still awkward, at least for me.  I can’t be really friends with him because I’m afraid of caring about him still.  I know I still care too much.  I know he doesn’t deserve me, in my head I know that but it’s hard to make your heart believe your head.  I’ve done so much better by him even though we’ve been treating each other like crap.  I could have kicked his ass to the curb and dumped his shit on the lawn like a ‘psycho’ ex-girlfriend.  That’s what he kept telling me I was being was a psycho.  I continued to give him a place to live because I believe in karma and I believe in doing unto others, even if it hurts me.  I’d never want to be just kicked out of someplace I lived and forced to live in my car, no matter what the situation was.  So I didn’t do it to him.  It’s why I’m always so nice to people and why no one can understand it.  It’s just how I am.  My friends (when I explained to them why I hadn’t kicked him out) said they admired my strength, my good-heartedness, and that Luke really didn’t deserve me, no one else would have been that considerate given the circumstances.  They might be right but it doesn’t matter.  My decisions.  I live with them and that’s all that matters.  

I’ve been spending a lot of time regretting how things have gone lately.  To the point where I have sort of numbed myself out.  I regret that things deteriorated so fast and I know it’s my own fault.  I made rash decisions because I was hurting and I lashed out because I hated that he was choosing to walk away, that he was choosing to hurt me and that he was getting away without a scratch or a tear or a scar.  I lashed out.  I shouldn’t have but I did.  Oh well.  I can’t change it now so I just have to move on from here.

My grandfather is doing better.  For now.  He’s home, his health is stable again for now.  My aunt and I have sat and discussed it though.  We’ve seen this path before.  We know that it’s only a matter of time before he passes away.  There’s no telling how much time there will be until then but he’s started down that path and we both recognize it because we both have seen it before.  The mental decline from his Alzheimer’s is getting steadily worse.  His heart is getting weaker.  He spends most of his time asleep.  It’s not just age.  There has been a marked decline just in the last 8 months.  The constant trips in and out of the hospital in the past 6 months have made me realize that I can’t keep being in denial over it.  The rest of my family is in denial.  So far only she and I have admitted that it’s time to start saying goodbye.  My world is going to fall apart when he dies.  He’s the man who was my father after my sperm-donor walked out on my mom and I.  He’s the one I ran to when I skinned my knees or got a good grade.  It was always him who was my rock, my solace.  I can’t imagine my world without him in it and it hurts too much to try.  

I feel more alone for having spent the last several days surrounded by people.  Is that weird?