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Planetoid
- Joined
- Jul 30, 2009
Yeah. I do adore that film; nomnomnom chick flicks.
Either way, yeah. For those of you out there who don't know me (so, about 99.5% of the population of Blue Moon), I'm Paul. I'm a currently unemployed, and out of education student with too much time on his hands. Sure, this will probably be a pathetic account of my unimpressive and silly sounding life, but... eh. I feel like recording my 'achievements' over the coming weeks a bit more. If only to get some perspective on life right about now.
It all started just before Christmas day; I'd always been a sheltered, relatively pampered child. My dad passed away when I was thirteen, and I was left solely with my mother after my sister moved away. Add a history of horrid childhood bullying, the resulting depression and anxiety which followed, and me being a general layabout leading to me being in the position I'm in now. My mother slowly began to get ill a month of two before the Yuletide, seemingly just a bit under the weather. She was finally admitted after two months, when she finally reached the point she could no longer walk unassisted, and required me to look after her completely. Only when the entirity of our family on either side forced her to go into hospital.
This was when it hit us. She was diagnosed with colon cancer. It'd progressed to the point that both her liver and lungs; she was given two weeks to live, and we were devastated. It was obvious she'd hidden the progressive illness to the point it was finally showing, as I'm pretty sure that not even a highly aggressive cancer would do such in such a small timeframe.
Sadly, she passed away at 4am, only the 27th of December. Between a gold-digging group on my mother's side, and my distant and equally money grubbing sister and her convicted sex offender husband... I was completely alone. My naivety began to catch up with me; the amount of time I allowed my widowed housewife mother to dote on me, and fail to pick up on on cooking, cleaning or keeping the house running... I was punched in the face with reality. A steep learning curve was made even heavier.
It's now been about four months, and I've started to find my feet. Obviously, regularly cooking, having discovered for myself house to wash my clothes and not end up looking like a tramp, and even with the worry looming of finding my own place now my sister is kicking me from my childhood home, to liquidate my late mothers assets and get her half of the money she sought after so much, to the point of even discussing her spending over my mother's morphine riddled death bed... I feel overly proud, and both horridly pathetic at the same time to say my one thing I have achieved this week...
... is I finally cooked my own meal. Not cling-film covered boxes shoved in the microwave. Not pies thrown in the over to cook. But actually gathering the ingrediants, and cooking (as my friends and niece have said) was a damn tasty spaghetti bolognese - sure, a tiny thing, but hey. It's given me the idea that maybe I'm not as useless as I seem to think? Now, just to face the next few months of finding a house, and hoping that goes as smoothly as boiling mince beef, tomato sauce and mushroom and pouring it over pasta strings.
Your kitty, Paul <3
Either way, yeah. For those of you out there who don't know me (so, about 99.5% of the population of Blue Moon), I'm Paul. I'm a currently unemployed, and out of education student with too much time on his hands. Sure, this will probably be a pathetic account of my unimpressive and silly sounding life, but... eh. I feel like recording my 'achievements' over the coming weeks a bit more. If only to get some perspective on life right about now.
It all started just before Christmas day; I'd always been a sheltered, relatively pampered child. My dad passed away when I was thirteen, and I was left solely with my mother after my sister moved away. Add a history of horrid childhood bullying, the resulting depression and anxiety which followed, and me being a general layabout leading to me being in the position I'm in now. My mother slowly began to get ill a month of two before the Yuletide, seemingly just a bit under the weather. She was finally admitted after two months, when she finally reached the point she could no longer walk unassisted, and required me to look after her completely. Only when the entirity of our family on either side forced her to go into hospital.
This was when it hit us. She was diagnosed with colon cancer. It'd progressed to the point that both her liver and lungs; she was given two weeks to live, and we were devastated. It was obvious she'd hidden the progressive illness to the point it was finally showing, as I'm pretty sure that not even a highly aggressive cancer would do such in such a small timeframe.
Sadly, she passed away at 4am, only the 27th of December. Between a gold-digging group on my mother's side, and my distant and equally money grubbing sister and her convicted sex offender husband... I was completely alone. My naivety began to catch up with me; the amount of time I allowed my widowed housewife mother to dote on me, and fail to pick up on on cooking, cleaning or keeping the house running... I was punched in the face with reality. A steep learning curve was made even heavier.
It's now been about four months, and I've started to find my feet. Obviously, regularly cooking, having discovered for myself house to wash my clothes and not end up looking like a tramp, and even with the worry looming of finding my own place now my sister is kicking me from my childhood home, to liquidate my late mothers assets and get her half of the money she sought after so much, to the point of even discussing her spending over my mother's morphine riddled death bed... I feel overly proud, and both horridly pathetic at the same time to say my one thing I have achieved this week...
... is I finally cooked my own meal. Not cling-film covered boxes shoved in the microwave. Not pies thrown in the over to cook. But actually gathering the ingrediants, and cooking (as my friends and niece have said) was a damn tasty spaghetti bolognese - sure, a tiny thing, but hey. It's given me the idea that maybe I'm not as useless as I seem to think? Now, just to face the next few months of finding a house, and hoping that goes as smoothly as boiling mince beef, tomato sauce and mushroom and pouring it over pasta strings.
Your kitty, Paul <3