So, ready or not, here it goes.....
I’m about to
explode. I need to find a therapist before I loose what is left of my mind or I
do or say something I’m gonna regret. So here’s the long and short of it. Don’t
answer the door because Rent-A-Center wants to come take the sofa. Don’t answer
the door because the utility company wants to shut us off. We don’t have the money for
this months’ rent. Car ins is due on the 14th or else the policy
cancels. $134/mo is supposedly the lowest plan hubby could get for cable/internet. He owes
everyone he’s borrowed money from to get us through the week. BUT, on the
bright side, the van is fixed so he won’t have to take the bus to work! (He’s
too good for that.) So if we don’t have a place to live we don’t need the sofa
or the cable. We just can’t drive the van passed the 14th, but hey, he
can probably park it at work and we’ll live there.
Hubby and daughter are like oil and water. For the most part he's ok with her, but there's always some kind of complaint and it lands on my daughter. He’s always saying she doesn’t pay rent. Why should she? She wasn’t
here a whole lot. Plus she pays for all her stuff. Now she is here more because
her boyfriend broke up with her. But she works sometimes 10 days straight
before she gets a day off. And a lot of times she’ll go out with her friends at
night. The only irritating thing is she has money to buy clothes, make up, get
her nails done, get her hair colored. I can’t even buy a friggen bra that’s not
from the dollar store. Granted, she takes 3 buses each way to work without
complaint. She’ll give hubby $10 for gas to pick her up from work on a Sunday
(it was $10/trip).
I've always busted my ass
working. I never complained when hubby didn’t work. I just did the best I could
do. To hell with my mental health. To hell with the fact that I would have an anxiety meltdown at least once a week. It didn't matter that my boss was a bitch who lived to make my life a living hell. We needed the money. Too bad I had to take 2
buses to work every morning. Suck it up and do what you have to. When we lived in our first apartment a few towns from here, I was taking 2 buses each way to work. I would have to walk a mile or so from the bus stop to our apartment, at least until they changed the bus routes
and I could catch the bus in front of our apartment. I never have money just for
me. My wallet wouldn’t know what money is.
Hubby was out yesterday
all day trying to finish working on the van (he hit an animal last weekend that seriously messed up the cooling system in the van.) So, he comes home and rather than hi I
missed you. Or oh it’s good to be home or whatever the hell… I get “Oh you
really DIDN’T do anything today, did you?” How many times have I had to tip toe
around him in the morning because he can be a real bastard in the mornings. How
many times have I just sat quietly so I wouldn’t bug him? How many Fridays have
I sat here waiting for dinner because he had to have a “few beers”, because
after all he worked his ass off all week standing on his feet in a hot
warehouse so he deserves it. Fortunately, he doesn’t really get drunk. He’s
been drinking for so long that beer doesn’t really get to him (except when he
gets passed 8 or 9, then he gets mouthy and usually directs it at me). We don’t
eat dinner till 7 or later most nights so he can “relax and a have a few beers” before
making dinner. (This has only started since he went back to work. He hasn’t
done this in a very long time.)
Our one luxury is
ordering out on Friday nights (because by then there’s no food in the house and
he doesn’t want to have to cook). We'll sit here together on a Friday night and drink. He'll go through a 6-pack while I indulge in alcohol. I don't always drink. But sometimes I will. And by the time he orders the food when I do drink, I'll be just too damn drunk to eat.
By the time the food gets here, I’m already passed out in bed. Oh, and you know
what he got me for my birthday? Booze. 1 small bottle of Raspberry Vodka, 2
shot bottles of raspberry vodka and a shot bottle of Fireball (a hot cinnamon
whiskey).
I am covered head to
toe with bites, blisters, scabs and scars because we somehow got bedbugs, I don’t
even like leaving the house because I look like some leper. My hands and arms
are the worst. But since they’ve run out of real estate there, they’ve decided
that my back and my legs are just as tasty. I must have over 100 bites/scabs
all over. We can’t afford an exterminator. He wants to wait till my tax money
comes in Feb. But I don’t think I’m going to get a whole lot because I can’t
claim my daughter anymore on my taxes (when I did for 2015 she wound up owing on her taxes
because I claimed her as a dependent). Which then means I can’t claim head of
household. I have to claim as single. And so far, I’ve only worked 6 months out
of this year (and oh yeah, my former boss already sent me my 2016 W-2).
You’d think that by
now I’d have become much smarter, stronger and independent. Most of life’s
trials show us that we can survive and even grow from it all. But, then you get
to a point where there is no end to the struggle. It breaks you down and leaves
you hopeless. And that's where I am at this point. My anxiety was so bad when I was working, so at least that has gotten somewhat better with being home. But I have to deal with the damn depression in exchange. My unemployment has gotten hung up, so I've been out of work since May 27 and have yet to receive a single unemployment payment, which hopefully will be the week.
I won't stop praying. There's precious little I have left to hold on to. My faith is the only thing holding me up. I know, at some point, God will answer. I just have to hold on and wait. It's all in His time, not ours.
Thank you for taking the time to listen to this rant and hopefully understand that life CAN bring you down. I know sometimes it's all in your outlook. We all have our own coping mechanisms. Learn, grow, keep your faith. And hold on.....
Be Blessed.
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