Wednesday, 12/06/06 - 8:07 pm.
Joseph and I went shopping on monday. He's a big spender, he bought so many things. Me, I finally got presents for my niece, parents, and my brother (the psyhologist, the only one here) and sister-in-law. Joseph is kind of sorta my husband, and it's wonderful going around with him.
So last night, I gave my parents their presents. They're small details, it's mostly a symbolic thing, a token of one's affection. I got a 2007 planner for my dad, and a John Paul II book for my mom. They were pleased and nearly cried, saying I didn't have to, and I was their joy, and thank you so much. My dad is a well organized man, and he already needed a place to keep record of all his appointments and tasks for next year. He used to get 5 or 7 planners for christmas, but now that he's retired, that's over.
And tonight, THEY gave me a christmas present, a box of chocolates. Chocolates are my weakness, but beyond that, I'm also very moved but their gesture. We're pretty much broke, with all those trips to hospitals and private doctors these last six months, because of my mom's multiple illnesses (she's fully recovering by now), and the family trip to Houston. The budget is very thight, and they're struggling figuring out what to get to the closest relatives, family friends, and people who give any service to the household, like the watchmen and the bread boy.
Anyway! I felt like crying, too. I love my parents. These days it's been just the three of us in the house; my little nephew's at his dad's, my sister's abroad, and I worry what my parents will do when I'm gone (not that I have a plan right now). I understand my big nephew now, he's desperate for us to come visit him in Houston. He gets in such a good mood when he's with his family. I do, too. I haven't seen any of my two siblings -the two that live in this country- in over a week, and that's a lot...except for the occassional witty e-mail from my brother, reccommending a Slipknot video, or asking what LMAO means (give him a break, he works a lot).
In the academical world, I have the Psychological Treatment final tomorrow. I can't wait to get over that. I still have to turn in the CommPsych final report, but this time around I've literally washed my hands and left the report to be finished by somebody else. I'm anxious about that, because I don't see any progress...but I must stay away, it's only fair.
I'm always going late to bed, trying to finish a GROUP report. Yesterday, Victoria and Husband (another friend and member of the gang, who recently also became Father, for his daughter was born) came over. Victoria only copied a class she was missing, but didn't help much. HusbandFather did, a bit more. Irene came like four hours late, but also helped. Victor, as usual, is MIA. I think he wants to quit the group, but hey, so do I. And that doesn't stop me from contributing to the report. Blah, more about this some other day.
My friend Mickey came out to his mom. He also told her about the rape (when he was in 3rd grade, his P.E. teacher abused him). His mom said he loved him no matter what, but also "suggested" seeking therapy for his sexual orientation. That made me angry, but we're taking it on the light side. After all, seeing a psychologist might bring some relief and closure to his horrible experience. I told him a few things I've learned about what a therapist has to offer to someone in need, and I brought down some of his fears about this. I'm really proud of Mickey.