obladi

Things have been weird lately.  So much going on.
 
My mother has developed diabetes.  Along with her other illnesses, this is the WORST news possible.  This limits my time with her by a lot.  I have a few years, maybe, if we can swing it.  If it doesn't get too out of control too fast.  But in a matter of weeks she went from one diabetic pills to four because one couldn't control it.  She's not on insulin yet, but when that happens, we will know that she has no more than a few months.

Now because of some diseases she already had, a lung disease particularly, she's been told that surviving another New Jersey winter is unlikely. 

Also, our apartment manager got fired and a new one took over.  A real Nazi bitch if you ask me who no longer wants pets in the complex.  We've had our dogs for 8 and 11 years, respectively, and are NOT giving them up.

So, we move.  Where to?  Texas.  It's a red state, yes, but cheaper than NJ.  And my mother lived there once when I was too little to remember and says she wouldn't mind dying there.  They were nice down there.  The air was cleaner.  Neighbors were friendlier. 

Moving, even to a better place, is always stressful, especially since we don't have the best credit.  Also, my mother got real stupid a few years back and that complicates things now.  But alas, there is someone in Austin, Texas willing to help us. 

Austin, Texas.  That's where we're going.  

It's strange because I have nothing keeping me here anymore.  The people I care most about live under my roof and are coming with me.  My extended family has split off in all directions and we don't even speak due to issues long swept under various rugs.  I don't have any "best" friends.  Not the ones I can call at 3am on some idle Tuesday when I can't sleep because I've had yet another nightmare about my deceased ex coming to me in ghost form.  (He still uses the human methods he used before: throwing rocks at my window 80's style, knocking at the back door and curling up on the steps, or yelling "Tara!  They're coming for me!")

Note:  my deceased ex was not well.  Probably why he died at 25 years old.  

But, talking about him is hard.  I cry.  Thinking of friends lost is hard, too.  Hell, 50% of me still wishes that my rapist was still that yellow-shirted kid in high school with the drug problem and the bestest, bluest eyes, instead of the dipshit he turned out to be.  

Life moves on though.  And so do I as it turns out.  So goodbye New Jersey.  Goodbye old friends.  Don't ever believe that I didn't love you.  I've just grown tired of standing still.