What do I do when everyone is counting on me?

My whole life, I’ve always been the rock, the one people count on. But what happens when I need someone to count on? 

My parents got divorced when I was 12. My brother and sister, who are both older than me, took it very hard. I, being the young, naive, Cathleen, was oh so lightheartedly trying to boost their spirits every chance I got. That was when my sister and I got close. 

  
My friends always come to me with their problems. It is so nice to know that I am who they think of when they go through a break up or have their own family troubles. But who has been single for 3 years? Me. Whose family life is rather messed up? Mine. Am I qualified to give good advice? Not particularly but I try my hardest. 

  
When my mom told us she was remarrying, my brother, being a 20 year old male, was whatever about it. My sister hated my mom and I did too at the time. It was hardly a year after she and my dad had been divorced. So, I was my sister’s venting mechanism. My dad was tore up. He thought my mom was going to move away and take me with. He would tell me he would scared he would never see me again. So here goes Cathleen, carefully reassuring my dad that wouldn’t happen, trying to make sure he didn’t become a complete basket-case.

Now, when my dad got sick, stage 4 lung cancer, I was bound and determined I would be one of those people that others praise. Positive, reassuring, and never waivering in my feelings. I didn’t want to let my family know how much trouble I was having emotionally. My dad told everyone I was his rock, his reason to fight. That is a helluva lot of pressure to put on a 16 year old. 

My mom majored in psychology in college, but ended up being a journalist. She started to recognize signs of depression in me. Uh-oh. Someone knows I’m not a rock solid, emotionless mass. When I was at my mom’s house, -which was very rare in the time my dad was sick, for I was the only one who lived with him and I had to make sure he was okay- I slept non stop. I was very irritable and unpredictable. I told my mom I felt like the situation would never end. At one point, I honestly felt that suicide would be the only way I could relieve what I was feeling. 

My dad’s sisters were emotional messes. Tears every time I spoke to them about my dad. My sister felt like I was putting all this pressure upon myself. My brother told me I was being selfish. My grandmother would just tell me I was okay. My friends didn’t understand.

So, who was there when I needed someone? Myself. Funny how that works.

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Hello!

Going to begin my blogging adventure with a little “About Me.” So here it goes. 😉

     I’m Cathleen. I’m 17 years old and I am a senior at Divide County High school in the teeny tiny town of Crosby, North Dakota! 

 
My dad died a little less than a year ago of lung cancer. (December 31, 2014 

 About 3 or 4 months ago I was diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome. God that answered so many questions for me. 

Why am I so hairy?

Why is it so hard for me to lose weight?

Why is my period so painful?

Why is my period so irregular?

The answer to all of those questions was PCOS. But how do I fix all these things? I can’t. There is one treatment for PCOS and it happens to be metformin, which is used for treating people with diabetes. Metformin works for some and not for others, and I’m not part of the some. I’m part of the others. Yippee!

The body hair. Yeah I knew that this pill wouldn’t make it fall out. I have male body hair. My chest. My boobs. My stomach. My butt. Very attractive, right?

The weight. The doctor said most people lose 60 pounds within the first three months of being on metformin. That alone was a selling point for me. I have always been a big girl but no matter what I try I cannot lose weight. But that 60 I was told I would lose? I gained 30. After getting a very physical job, eating very consciously, and trying to lose weight, I still gained weight. 

The painful periods? They’re still here. My periods are what I imagine 10 days of labor would be like with no medication.

The irregular period. I get it for a week. A week after, I get it again, for a week and a half. Then, I don’t get it for 4 months. 

So what do I do next? Or do I just live with this?