It's hard to believe that just eight years ago you were still with me.
Today I felt like you were with me again, beside me as I cleaned up your grave site. I could practically hear you talking to me again, telling me what to do to fix my appearance and how to do my job, even though you didn't know a thing about computers back in 2002, when you passed. I could hear you telling me to look after my dad, make sure he eats right and doesn't work too hard.
Well, even so, there's a lot you've missed in the past year. I turned 24. Believe it or not, Senelė, the sickly little girl you used to look after is officially in adulthood. Yeah, shocker. Even I'm surprised I made it this far. Our clan doesn't exactly have the best track record when it comes to health, either mental or physical. But I haven't shot myself, and I haven't contracted any deadly diseases, so as far as I'm concerned I'm doing pretty damn well.
Last summer it seemed like every single celebrity passed away. Not that you'd care, you only watched the television for the news and South Park, which you'll be pleased to know is still on.
I'm doing well financially, even though the economy still sucks. My coworkers are doing extremely well, and we're even goofier than we were last year now. Our workload has increased so much, though, that we're looking for a fourth person to add to our loony bin of computers. You'd like it there, we're always looking for a laugh. I'm not sure if you'd be pleased about this, or want to whack me with a broom again, but I still haven't lost my fondness for playing pranks on people. I still mess with my coworkers, and they get me right back.
You'll also be happy to know that I have continued your tradition of playing the lottery once a month, and last year in December won $200. It's not anything major, but I thought it might make you happy to know that the child you raised hasn't departed from her upbringing.
Dad is doing well. He and his friends have missed the midlife crisis stage, and now they're the funniest 40somethings I've ever met in my life. Seriously, at that age most guys are moping around and trying to buy a Ferrari. Dad and company just go to the pub once a week and complain about things.
I could go on, but you've probably got better things to do in the Great Beyond than listen to me ramble on and on. So here's to another year, where hopefully you will watch over me.
Love,
Simona
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Friday, April 30, 2010
April 30th
Twenty-seven years ago today, two young people were married. At the time, they didn't know that they were making the biggest mistake of their lives. This seemingly harmless action resulted in three years of awkward arrangements, a child, and eventually a suicide.
But at the time, neither of them knew what the future would hold. They were just happy to be together, finally finalizing the love they felt for each other. Once they were married, they went on their honeymoon to Tahiti, not realizing that the fun, traditional trip to a tropical location was the beginning of the end. How could they, when they were so happy to be together?
It wasn't as though they fought, no it was the opposite. They got along so well that they should have seen the warning signs. No one can possibly be that happy together, not without making some sacrifices. While they were on their holiday, they spent money and spent so much time together that it's a miracle that they didn't burn out. They planned out their entire life while they were there- in a year they would have their first child and the woman would quit working, hopefully before too long they would have a second child, they would eventually move out of the depressing inner-city apartment they lived in and would get a nice house somewhere in the suburbs. In a few years, when the children were in middle school, the woman would go back to work and they would save money to put their kids through university.
Unfortunately, real life doesn't work out that way. The woman's grandmother needed someone to care for her, so she moved in with the couple, which put a bit of a strain on their relationship. Two years after they were married, the woman had an extremely difficult pregnancy resulting in a rather unhealthy baby- a little girl. She quit her job to take care of the child and her grandmother- both needed a lot of medical appointments. Slowly, her mental stamina started to wither away, until two years after she bore her sickly daughter, she shot herself.
In case you haven't figured it out now, the young man and woman were my parents. And in case you're particularly dim, the baby was me. Today would have been their 27th wedding anniversary, if my mother was still alive. It's a difficult day for me, especially because in three days is the anniversary of my great-grandmother's death. Usually today passes by unmarked, except for maybe getting some hugs and extra snacks from my coworkers, who know how painful this week is for me. Today, though, my dad called. Which isn't particularly unusual- he calls me a couple of times a month. But today he called me, just wanting to hear that I was doing well. It made me sad, to be quite honest. I wish my dad didn't have to feel this way every year.
Anyway, that's why I haven't been posting much lately. I've just been thinking a lot, about what happened, and how things might be different if my mom hadn't died. On Sunday I am going to visit my great-grandmother's grave and tidy it, which I do every year on the anniversary of her death and her birthday. I tidy my mother's on Mother's Day and the anniversary of her death.
But at the time, neither of them knew what the future would hold. They were just happy to be together, finally finalizing the love they felt for each other. Once they were married, they went on their honeymoon to Tahiti, not realizing that the fun, traditional trip to a tropical location was the beginning of the end. How could they, when they were so happy to be together?
It wasn't as though they fought, no it was the opposite. They got along so well that they should have seen the warning signs. No one can possibly be that happy together, not without making some sacrifices. While they were on their holiday, they spent money and spent so much time together that it's a miracle that they didn't burn out. They planned out their entire life while they were there- in a year they would have their first child and the woman would quit working, hopefully before too long they would have a second child, they would eventually move out of the depressing inner-city apartment they lived in and would get a nice house somewhere in the suburbs. In a few years, when the children were in middle school, the woman would go back to work and they would save money to put their kids through university.
Unfortunately, real life doesn't work out that way. The woman's grandmother needed someone to care for her, so she moved in with the couple, which put a bit of a strain on their relationship. Two years after they were married, the woman had an extremely difficult pregnancy resulting in a rather unhealthy baby- a little girl. She quit her job to take care of the child and her grandmother- both needed a lot of medical appointments. Slowly, her mental stamina started to wither away, until two years after she bore her sickly daughter, she shot herself.
In case you haven't figured it out now, the young man and woman were my parents. And in case you're particularly dim, the baby was me. Today would have been their 27th wedding anniversary, if my mother was still alive. It's a difficult day for me, especially because in three days is the anniversary of my great-grandmother's death. Usually today passes by unmarked, except for maybe getting some hugs and extra snacks from my coworkers, who know how painful this week is for me. Today, though, my dad called. Which isn't particularly unusual- he calls me a couple of times a month. But today he called me, just wanting to hear that I was doing well. It made me sad, to be quite honest. I wish my dad didn't have to feel this way every year.
Anyway, that's why I haven't been posting much lately. I've just been thinking a lot, about what happened, and how things might be different if my mom hadn't died. On Sunday I am going to visit my great-grandmother's grave and tidy it, which I do every year on the anniversary of her death and her birthday. I tidy my mother's on Mother's Day and the anniversary of her death.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
The Name Zetsubou
My Internet name is a constant source of mystery to some. What does it mean? What language is it in? Why did you choose it? I'm going to answer those questions in this post.
Zetsubou, or 絶望, is Japanese for “despair.” I am not Japanese. If I was going to use my ancestral languages for my name, I would be “Neviltis” (Lithuanian, father's side), or “ochtayanie” (отчаяние – Russian, mother's side).
I chose the name Zetsubou because within my lifetime, I have had to work extremely hard to overcome a variety of circumstances, and I spent most of my teenage years in despair. My mom was dead, my great-grandmother, the woman who raised me, was dead by the time I was 14 years old, my dad worked all the time, and I didn't have many friends. I was “that creepy girl in the back of the classroom.”
So most of my life, I've been alone. I developed a bit of a warped personality because of it, but I promise that I'm usually a good person. I'm not going to bite you if you talk to me, and if I like you, I'm pretty friendly. I have a well-paying job, and I've grown comfortable in my own skin. But occasionally, that old despair creeps in, and on those days, it's almost impossible to get out of bed. I've been told by doctors that I have dysthymic disorder, but I don't really care what it's called. All I know is that it's difficult for me to function on days that I feel that way. It's gotten better since I got a job, and I have to say that I'm quite grateful to my boss and coworkers for making every day a lot more fun.
I call myself "Despair" not so much because I am in it constantly, but because I do not want to forget my roots, where I came from, and what motivated me to become what I am today. If it hadn't been for those times where I felt lonely and empty, I might never have been motivated to become what I am today.
Zetsubou, or 絶望, is Japanese for “despair.” I am not Japanese. If I was going to use my ancestral languages for my name, I would be “Neviltis” (Lithuanian, father's side), or “ochtayanie” (отчаяние – Russian, mother's side).
I chose the name Zetsubou because within my lifetime, I have had to work extremely hard to overcome a variety of circumstances, and I spent most of my teenage years in despair. My mom was dead, my great-grandmother, the woman who raised me, was dead by the time I was 14 years old, my dad worked all the time, and I didn't have many friends. I was “that creepy girl in the back of the classroom.”
So most of my life, I've been alone. I developed a bit of a warped personality because of it, but I promise that I'm usually a good person. I'm not going to bite you if you talk to me, and if I like you, I'm pretty friendly. I have a well-paying job, and I've grown comfortable in my own skin. But occasionally, that old despair creeps in, and on those days, it's almost impossible to get out of bed. I've been told by doctors that I have dysthymic disorder, but I don't really care what it's called. All I know is that it's difficult for me to function on days that I feel that way. It's gotten better since I got a job, and I have to say that I'm quite grateful to my boss and coworkers for making every day a lot more fun.
I call myself "Despair" not so much because I am in it constantly, but because I do not want to forget my roots, where I came from, and what motivated me to become what I am today. If it hadn't been for those times where I felt lonely and empty, I might never have been motivated to become what I am today.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Growing Up Motherless
Many people will go through a time in their life where nothing seems like it's going right for them. This can be triggered through a variety of reasons, but the most common are due to other people.
I was thinking about this today, mainly because I have struggled with this in the past myself. I'm not going to go into details here about my life, but I grew up without a mother, she committed suicide when I was two. I was never more aware of this than when I was in high school. All around me, people would either love their mom and think they were great, or they would think that their mom was this horrible evil ogress who wanted to see them suffer.
Me? I never got to feel that. I had my dad and my great-grandmother, but it wasn't the same. My dad worked all the time, and my great-grandmother was a bitter, angry old woman who didn't speak much English. Don't get me wrong, I love my father and I loved my great-grandmother. She taught me everything I know and understand about the world and the people who inhabit it. If it hadn't been for her lessons, I don't know how I would have survived. Thanks to her, while other girls my age were getting involved in romantic relationships and ruining their lives, or focusing more on finding love than making money, I was working two jobs and going to school. It might have seemed depressing at the time, but now I see that it was the best thing I could have done. I don't have baggage from previous relationships. I didn't end up pregnant at age 17. And I developed my work ethic, which serves me well today. Thanks to my father, I learned how to program and build computers, which has severed me incredibly well.
Because of those two important people in my life, I'm a productive member of the global workforce. But I never had a mom. I remember when I reached the point of physical maturity for the first time. Aunt Flo showed up for a visit, and no one had told me anything about it. I panicked and thought I was dying, so I ran to the school nurse and told her to call my family and ask them to call the funeral home and make arrangements for my death. Of course, the school nurse wanted to know why I was so convinced that my time on the mortal coil was drawing to a close (most twelve-year-olds don't suddenly die randomly with no apparent cause), so I told her I was bleeding. When she realized what was going on, she asked me, "Didn't your mother tell you?" Well, no, I didn't have a mother, and I really wanted to know what the flying foot was going on. So she explained it to me and made me call home to tell whoever was there what had happened.
So I had to call my great-grandmother and try to explain to her what had happened. Of course, an hour or so later, I get called down to the office because there was an extremely excitable elderly lady yelling at the office staff in broken English. Yep. It was my great-grandmother. So that day I got pulled out of school early, taken to a really fancy restaurant at 1:45 in the afternoon, and given THE TALK.
Everyone knows what THE TALK is. Usually, it's that awkward time where the parent of the same gender as you stumbles through the facts of how we get more humans. But no, I didn't have a mom, so I got the whole "Romantic relationships are evil and will ruin your future chances of having any kind of life. Don't make the same mistake I did, Zetsubou! Do not get married! Save yourself while you have the chance! Oh, and only have sex if you want a child." Yeah. So while most people got the whole discussion about when is the right time, and how babies get here, I got a rant about the evils of signing over control of your life to some guy who's main goal in life is to make you miserable.
I'm sorry to say that most of my teenage years, I believed that. I still do, to some degree. But while other girls were thinking about their boyfriends and how to make them happy, I was locked up in the computer lab or my apartment, thinking about ways to get the most money possible. While other girls were looking at fashion magazines, I was looking at stock market trends.
I'm not saying all of this to complain about my upbringing. Overall, I'm very pleased with the way I turned out and wouldn't trade most of the things I learned for all the tea in China. But sometimes, I wonder if I might have been served better if my mother hadn't taken her life.
I was thinking about this today, mainly because I have struggled with this in the past myself. I'm not going to go into details here about my life, but I grew up without a mother, she committed suicide when I was two. I was never more aware of this than when I was in high school. All around me, people would either love their mom and think they were great, or they would think that their mom was this horrible evil ogress who wanted to see them suffer.
Me? I never got to feel that. I had my dad and my great-grandmother, but it wasn't the same. My dad worked all the time, and my great-grandmother was a bitter, angry old woman who didn't speak much English. Don't get me wrong, I love my father and I loved my great-grandmother. She taught me everything I know and understand about the world and the people who inhabit it. If it hadn't been for her lessons, I don't know how I would have survived. Thanks to her, while other girls my age were getting involved in romantic relationships and ruining their lives, or focusing more on finding love than making money, I was working two jobs and going to school. It might have seemed depressing at the time, but now I see that it was the best thing I could have done. I don't have baggage from previous relationships. I didn't end up pregnant at age 17. And I developed my work ethic, which serves me well today. Thanks to my father, I learned how to program and build computers, which has severed me incredibly well.
Because of those two important people in my life, I'm a productive member of the global workforce. But I never had a mom. I remember when I reached the point of physical maturity for the first time. Aunt Flo showed up for a visit, and no one had told me anything about it. I panicked and thought I was dying, so I ran to the school nurse and told her to call my family and ask them to call the funeral home and make arrangements for my death. Of course, the school nurse wanted to know why I was so convinced that my time on the mortal coil was drawing to a close (most twelve-year-olds don't suddenly die randomly with no apparent cause), so I told her I was bleeding. When she realized what was going on, she asked me, "Didn't your mother tell you?" Well, no, I didn't have a mother, and I really wanted to know what the flying foot was going on. So she explained it to me and made me call home to tell whoever was there what had happened.
So I had to call my great-grandmother and try to explain to her what had happened. Of course, an hour or so later, I get called down to the office because there was an extremely excitable elderly lady yelling at the office staff in broken English. Yep. It was my great-grandmother. So that day I got pulled out of school early, taken to a really fancy restaurant at 1:45 in the afternoon, and given THE TALK.
Everyone knows what THE TALK is. Usually, it's that awkward time where the parent of the same gender as you stumbles through the facts of how we get more humans. But no, I didn't have a mom, so I got the whole "Romantic relationships are evil and will ruin your future chances of having any kind of life. Don't make the same mistake I did, Zetsubou! Do not get married! Save yourself while you have the chance! Oh, and only have sex if you want a child." Yeah. So while most people got the whole discussion about when is the right time, and how babies get here, I got a rant about the evils of signing over control of your life to some guy who's main goal in life is to make you miserable.
I'm sorry to say that most of my teenage years, I believed that. I still do, to some degree. But while other girls were thinking about their boyfriends and how to make them happy, I was locked up in the computer lab or my apartment, thinking about ways to get the most money possible. While other girls were looking at fashion magazines, I was looking at stock market trends.
I'm not saying all of this to complain about my upbringing. Overall, I'm very pleased with the way I turned out and wouldn't trade most of the things I learned for all the tea in China. But sometimes, I wonder if I might have been served better if my mother hadn't taken her life.
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