So, earlier today, I blocked Kimmie on Skype and I unfriended her on Facebook, because she told me, literally, “don’t fucking talk to me,” and I, out of spite and anger, decided to do just that.

Why had she gotten quite mad at me, you might be wondering. Well, it started with her complaining about her apathy for life and whatnot, to which I kept replying “if you don’t like what’s going on, do something about it.”

Eventually, she posted a blog (the first one on her homepage), which I had read. I left a comment, and, for good measure, I told her over Skype: if you “probably won’t” talk to me about solving your problems, don’t figuratively ask for help in the first place.”

“Are you TRYING to start a fight or something?” she asked in response.

And I replied, (this is all word for word, by the way), “I’m not TRYING to start a fight. I’m making a statement. Don’t call for help if you aren’t going to use it. No one needs your crap.”

To which she got really pissed and shortly afterward, I blocked her.

This thing with Kimmie is rather old history; most of you who read my blog know that my little sister has a mood disorder. Occasionally, she’ll fall into a funk in which she won’t care to do anything except lay in bed all day, regardless of the consequences. And yes, for a while, she used to cut herself (though I don’t know if she truly stopped doing that; I merely assume she has).

What she does a lot when she falls into these funks is she’ll complain about how she doesn’t care about failing school and how she hates everything. Usually, when I’m not trying to cheer her up by joking around, I try to more seriously encourage her. I give her advice on things she can legitimately do to make her situation better. But every time I do, she comes back with some reason or excuse as to why she can’t.

So when I just start agreeing with her and tell her that there’s nothing that can be done, she gets angry and accuses me of not caring, and then goes on about how she hates everyone and how they don’t help her. But when I do try to help, like I said, she doesn’t let me. When I just stop trying to help, she gets hurt, and when I tell her I don’t like her attitude about things and the fact that she needs to get her life in order so as not to screw up her future, she gets pissed. So what am I supposed to do? I can’t win no matter what approach I take.

Still, I was really harsh with her when I had said what I said, though I was being straightforward; if she doesn’t want help, she shouldn’t ask for it, and I don’t need to deal with her crap if she’s going to be inflexible about it. But, I was being harsh. And I do worry.

Sometimes, she’ll say something during these funks like “You know, I literally want to kill myself right now,” or, for a specific example, “I deserve so-and-so because I didn’t kill myself today,” and it scares me. Because I don’t know if that’s just her way of trying to be manipulative or if she’s literally thinking about committing suicide. And I sometimes wonder, if one of these days, my temper and words might actually be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

No matter what’s done, it’s not what my sister wants. I don’t know how to help her and it hurts when I try to and fail, because she’s my sister. Hell, I can safely say she’s my closest friend. She’s my best friend, and I can’t even give her what she wants? What kind of sister does that make me?

I don’t know what to do anymore.

Mom accidentally broke her wine glass. It was a wedding gift from 25 years ago. Somethings happened after that, and she ended up going upstairs and crying for several minutes. It’d be hard to describe other than to say it was ironically symbolic.

I watched the scene unfurl with my own eyes, and replayed it in my mind over and over. And the only thing that I could think at the end of it was: there is no hope for salvaging this at all.

She’s doing better now. I feel rather hopeless and indifferent… numb at the moment. More than anything, my head’s been buzzing incessantly and I seem to feel rather enraged at the moment. The buzzing comes and goes whenever I get pissed off or calmed down. I kind of feel like I’m moving along the line to snapping — something that’s never happened to me before. It seems that over the years, my anger’s been building up and building up and now the only left for it to do is overflow.

But that was my Thanksgiving. I suppose that event at the very end could be called a buzz-kill. All I know is, it ruined my semi-good mood.

I just haven’t been able to get myself to do much of anything. Gotta love those crippling issues.

Anyway, I’m officially on the prowl for a therapist. Yea, I thought I was gonna be the only mentally healthy child of the Baker clan, but I’m suffering from a rather bad bout of depression, not to mention some crap I have to deal with to boot.

It’s not just the high school crap I went through that has been bothering me, I think. That’s a part of it for sure; ever since that Andy!drama back in high school, I can’t get myself to trust new people, even if they are very obviously trustworthy. Infant didn’t help much, Dale kind of didn’t either. It seems Dale only wants to hang out when he expects me to screw him. And so, I haven’t hung out with him in months. But there are some really cool people whom I talk to; like Alyce and Amanda, and Gabby and Kelly. But I can’t really open up like I’d want to. So they’re pseudo-friends as opposed to actual friends. I mean, how can two people be friends if one can’t trust the other? It’s the fundamental backbone of friendship — trust.

The second thing is issues with the family. At the moment, I’m currently not sure if I can divulge, so I won’t, but I guess the best way to put it is this family doesn’t feel like a family, and I suppose any hope of saving that is pretty much gone. We all live together, yes, but there’s no real connection. It just feels like we’re a bunch of people under the same roof, who just to happen to be related to each other. Well, minus Derek, but yea.

The holidays aren’t the same anymore. The only time we actually resemble a loving family would have to be Thanksgiving, and even then, the majority of the day is spent with the men room in their respective rooms on their computers, and Mom cooking Thanksgiving dinner, with the occasional assistance of Kimmie and I (though I plan to help her A LOT more come this year’s turkey day). Natalie is going to be spending her Thanksgiving with us — it’ll be her first ever REAL Thanksgiving meal, the poor child — so maybe it’ll make things a little more fun, but who’s to say?

Christmas might be a little better if they existed in our household. Ever since, oh, I don’t know… when I was 15 or 16, we stopped being able to afford Christmases. For Christ’s sake, we couldn’t even get a tree. Last year we were able to, and that’s only because I was paying for it out of my pocket. It was present to the fam. I might do it again this year because it’s just so depressing without one. The presents last year weren’t from the family; it was a special giveaway thing from Kimmie’s school. So I have the feeling that this year, there will be no tree (unless I get one), there will be no decorating (because I can never seem to get people to help me with decorating around the house — it’s like if there isn’t a tree, then they don’t even care), probably no presents from the parents, I don’t know if I’ll be able to afford presents for the parents, and, as usual, no real family together time.

It’s insanely heartbreaking to watch this happen that way it has. I think that’s the major part of this whole thing. When Millie died, it just triggered the depression, but I have a lot of stuff to get out.

Now if only I could just find an actual therapist.

I haven’t heard any good things about the counselors at the Health center, and well, I wasn’t expecting much, considering one doctor was convinced my once-fractured and still-dislocated coccyx was a cyst (I got x-rays, even though it’s dangerous for my baby making parts, just for the sake of PROVING I WAS RIGHT), and that another doctor thought my deformed clavicle was an overuse injury caused by playing volleyball once a week (turns out there WAS a hairline fracture, like I suspected way back when I first had it, as opposed to a plastic deformation. Hairline fracture makes more sense too). My Personal Essay professor, who frustrates the hell out of me at times, recommended one Susan Compton, who just so happens to not take my GHI insurance. Wonderful. But she told me she’d reach out to colleagues to find someone for me and get back to me. I’m supposed to be expecting a phone call from her today, so *crosses fingers* hope for the best.

… Well that was a lot of depressing stuff. Um, I suppose the only good I can think of is that I’m generally passing my classes, save for one, maybe 2. Though I think in biomechanics I have a C, and I can probably get that up.

Oh, If you haven’t yet, go read the Judgment Day post and review; comments are still open!