There is something seriously wrong with me.

I've just moved to my new place in Santa Monica and can't stop giggling. I haven't spent more than an hour there since every last belonging was picked up and placed the four blocks away in my new place. I spent most of the weekend with my ex who graciously supported me and the movers with the heavy lifting. He noticed, and took it all too personally most of the time, that I couldn't stop giggling.

Happy to be in my new place? That must be it.

I got a little flu bug after two days of moving most of the boxes by myself to the tune of sympathetic stares and comments from my neighbors. I just wanted to get into my new place.

There were many glitches in the process. You know, you set up all the electricity, gas and stuff and it never works properly or comes on in time. I won't get gas for the next couple of days. Which I guess is a good thing for those around me.
Just kidding.
But no cooking.

So, I'm lifting and heaving and bending at both knees etc.

It burns calories and I'm gettin' my workout in.

I called my mom to vent. I realized that this can't really happen, like for a long time. What's the importance or severity of what I have to vent about when my mother is being a full time real estate agent and care-taker to my dad?
She told me that my dad had fainted twice and fallen to the point where he couldn't walk.
My sisters were both there in NY and rallied together to help.
I'm here in LA, moving closer to the beach.
I had left Bryan to sit in the car, waiting to go into Starbuck, order my coffee and kill time to avoid the movers with attitude and overcharging behavior. I heard what my mom had to say and couldn't say anything. I got off the phone with her and just started to giggle.
What am I doing?
I went to Bed Bath and Beyond with Bryan. Dishtowels, hand towels. And I just started to giggle.
I went to Osh hardware. Plants, hooks, saw. And I just started to giggle.
Something must be funny, Bryan would say, over and over again.
I told him that this is just me now. I cry for 30 seconds and giggle for 20 seconds.
I don't know when this extreme of emotion will die down.
I just don't know what I'm doing.
How can I move on with my life, trying to build it back up after a year that tore it down, only to have the most important people in my life, struggling with survival.
I'm selfish.
What am I doing?
When I came out to LA originally, it's not like I ever thought this far in advance to how my parents were going to get on and who would take care of them, should they get sick.

I called my sister. I asked her what I should do. She told me it would be a waste to come back to NY while both her and Kathy were still working so that I could just sit around, watching my dad snore to Oprah.
A client of mine told me that I would know when the right time would be for me to head back.
How do I, really?
I want to be there and I want to be here.
I don't feel strong in committing to anything or anyone. I feel torn between two lives and two coasts.
The biggest pain in my butt before I left for the holidays and before we even knew my dad was ill again, was finding a new place to live. After a huge struggle with that, I found my place and I don't feel I deserve to enjoy it because of everything happening at home.
And then I giggle.
Perhaps Im going insane.