Sometimes you literally have no idea what life will throw at you. When I was working at Check n’Go l the worst job I have ever had, I ended up incredible depressed for varies reason like my manager telling me daily how shitty I am or the fact that I was stuck at a community college for two math classes that have nothing to do with my major. I ended up going on a light antidepressant for a while and it helped when I needed it. I do not suggest anything that I did but I am just sharing my story and why I haven’t posted. I ended up being thrown off the ones I was because I couldn’t afford to see the Doctor again and I ended up having to go to another one I could afford. The next Doctor I went to treated me pretty badly; actually she treated me like I was a damn junky. Before I went to see her I was feeling like I was ready to go off of them. In fact my body was telling me to go off of them till I talked to someone who works in a rehab, she told me the meds were working the way that they were suppose to and so stayed on. Big mistake.
I can’t even remember what they were called but they sure as shit hurt my writing. I was being told I was not up to par and I wasn’t in fact I didn’t even want to write anything. The girl who has over 300 pages of plays all of these articles poetry books everything I mean I have been writing since I was a kid, and all I could think about was wanting to stop. I waited for them to balance off and but while I was waiting I was laying in bed just not caring about life. I didn’t want to be apart of it. I wanted to just sleep because it was the closest thing I could feel to death. Before I knew it August became late November and I to this day can barely recall what had happened in that time. I know my birthday and Halloween was in there along with Catching Fire but nothing else is there. I woke up and said, “ This isn’t how I want to live my life.” So cold turkey I went off them. It was hard specially the first week but I knew it was the right thing to do.
During the time of withdrawals, my grandfather had become much worse in the horrid disease of Alzheimer’s. I don’t know how many of you have had to deal with it but that is not a funny thing to deal with, as some people would like to think. He was taking to a mental institution because he had come at my family with various things like an axe and hedge clippers. Not his fault he was sick, this is a man that helped raise me and never cussed, was very mild manner and willing to lend a helping hand to anyone in need. My moral compass is strongly based around what my grandfather taught me and then this disease ruined that. Seeing him in the home was one of the hardest things to deal with. Not only am I going through withdrawals, I’m in Vegas away from my home and my sister leaves me there to deal with it all because she has to attend to personally things. I don’t have much of a family, my mother died when I was 19 and this is her side of the family, and the only side that talks to me so I had to help because it was needed. My mother wasn’t there, my uncle isn’t reliable and my Aunt isn’t confertatonal. I pretty much was sitting in for my mother.
My grandmother, my aunt and I would go sees my grandfather every day. My grandmother and I, for the most part went twice a day. Mostly in the morning he would know who we were but by nighttime all of that was lost. In fact I was trying to help him up one day and he punched me in the gut twice. Me his own granddaughter because he didn’t know who I was. I’m not telling this to gain sympathy but merely as a story of facts. I met some very wise people beyond what they thought. One of the things that had caught me off guard as I was there was how helpful priest can really be. I am not of any christan faith but these Bob and Bill the catholic priest was defiantly an eye opener. One day when everyone was in my grandpa’s room, I stuck around in the visitor’s lounge and I told them about my problems. Everything from the depression to having a hard time finding a job. I had told Father Bill that sometimes I feel like I was meant to deal with all of this so I could be there for my grandpa, a man I loved dearly, because I was needed here more then I was at home. Both of the men had agreed and Bill said “No Kelsey you were suppose to be here. You were meant to be here.”
Sure enough I was. I left for a bit came back did a Skinny Puppy show for OC Weekly which wasn’t my best piece as yelled at by my editor but it was good enough for the band to repost it. While I was out there enjoying feeling some sort of better I looked at UNLV, which does not have the same standards as California. To cut things short I got in. Woot woot for me. During this time I think it was helpful that I did not have the Internet because I needed to reflect on what I wanted to do and what I needed. I didn’t think that I would write anymore but my wise friend told me to keep up with it and I think maybe I should.