Travis's introduction onto my blog: If anyone is going to be helping me figure out my own life, then you really have to know how I spend it. Travis Andrew Binns. Travis, Travis, Travis.
February of 2010 is when it all started. My ex, Luke, kicked me out high and dry and I moved back in with my parents. I met Travis, and he was just the sweetest boy ever. He bought me cigarettes, energy drinks, and funyons by the bushel and texted me constantly. Well, for about 2 weeks that is. Then, he lost his job.
Here we are, a year and some change later, and he is still unemployed. I got my own apartment in November '11 and I let him stay with me. His mother is a great woman, and she loves him dearly, she is just unable to take care of him. So, I stepped up and for some reason felt obligated to do what she couldn't. I average 50 hours a week at Canon just to afford our food and bills and such, while he stays at home all day.
At first, he was a 'housewife' of sorts, he cleaned and cooked for me when I got home. However, now it is hard to even get him to fill out an application. The longer he goes living off of me, the more angry and resentful I become and the easier it is for me to snap and throw him out. I know that when I get home from my 12 hours shifts on line C216, I am grumpy and tired. But I also know full well that I would have 4 days off a week if I didn't have two mouths to feed.
I feel utterly unappreciated and alone in the apartment these days. A dish in the sink and I go off the deep end. 12 hours and you couldn't wash the dishes?!? In light of the constant fights, I'm quite sure I have now pushed him into an even deeper end with no life preserver. I have thrown him out with no phone or money at 2am from a fight over a slammed door or the stereo being on after I wanted to sleep.
However every time, without fail, I run back out, I yell for him to come back, I cry. I need him. Or at least I feel as though I do. I feel like it is my job to take care of a grown man with nothing physically keeping him from taking care of himself because I can. I can work overtime every week until my back throbs in pain. Until I can barely stand. I have the ability, but do I really want to anymore. I want to go to school. I hate my job. The people there are nice, but I don't want to do this forever. But I can't.
My family thinks I should be a nurse, because I easily care for people that I feel need me. A socialist of sorts. If I have extra, why not share? But I'm starting to believe that this will be my downfall. I spend every month pinching pennies when rent is due because when I have extra around the 15th, I'll just give it out. I haven't gone out and bought myself something since I got a coffee table two months ago.
I hate these facts. I hate seeing that what I am doing isn't right, and still being unable to stop. I love Travis Andrew Binns. I love all of my friends. And here I am asking, does love mean I have to give everything I have to help someone else? Is this what being in love means? Being in a dead end job that I can't quit because I'll let someone else down? I don't know what to do.
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