Archive for June, 2013

Money is Everything

Being unemployed means I have none.  Stupid student loan company calls me at least a half dozen times a day looking for money. I keep telling them I have no money but they don’t listen or care.  I understand they have a job to do but this is ridiculous.

After talking to the one woman today, I was in tears.  It wasn’t so bad the last time because they only called once a day.  Now it’s multiple times and they still don’t listen.  And I’m reminded of how precarious place I am in right now.

I can’t pay the electric bill due in two days or the PO box that’s due at the end of the month.  Or the rent due on the first, the cellphone bill due on the third let alone renew the license plates on my car which expire on the sixth.  I won’t get into the credit card bill which I can’t pay at all so student loans are out of the question.  If you think I have forgotten about food, I haven’t.  I just can’t afford it.  Bills come first, me last or not at all.  I’m not going to go truly hungry but I’m down to rice, tuna, and some frozen veggies.  Some leftovers as well.  It probably helps that I don’t have much of an appetite any more.

I’ve been here before but this time seens different.  I applied for unemployment but am still waiting for an issue to be resolved. If it ever gets resolved.  My friends have already helped me out as much as they can.  Now I’m on my own.

And yes, I’m looking for a job.  I don’t want to be unemployed or homeless or hungry or have to worry about money.  I’ve been those things before.  I didn’t like it then either.

I hate myself right now for doing this to myself.  I am the only one to blame even if I was fired.

House of Fear vs. House of Love

This is a post I’ve been meaning to write for a while.

I grew up in a house full of fear.  I was always afraid, always on edge, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.  My mother set the atmosphere in that house and set it early.  I don’t remember any love or care from her.  Only anger and rage.  Yes, she wasn’t angry all the time but it sure felt like it to me.  I never knew what would set her off, what she would come after me for this time. I was constantly alert, constantly afraid. I wasn’t safe and I didn’t know it.  I thought everyone lived this way because I only really saw the isolated world I was imprisoned in and couldn’t see anything else.

Not only fear but no boundaries as well.  I wasn’t a person to my mother.  I was a mistake, a failure, something that ruined her life. My thoughts, my feelings, my own body weren’t mine according to her.  My physical body was hers to control.  Therefore, I was too fat, too ugly, too stupid, too much of a failure, too bad for everything except Hell, would never amount to anything.  In her world, I wasn’t fit to live but wasn’t worthy enough to kill either. Destruction was easier for her and made it look like she was a good mother and I was just a bad daughter.  Maybe if I was like her then I would be okay but she couldn’t have that because she considered herself perfect and nothing could compete with perfection.  Therefor, I had to be destroyed.

Where was my father in all this? On the sidelines, keeping his head down.  But I didn’t know until I talked to him yesterday that he also considered me a disappointment.  I heard it in his voice.  And I thought he loved me.  He does, on some level, but I painted him as an innocent victim of my mother when in reality he was a passive enabler.  I did not have parents who cared for my welfare beyond the very basics.  There was no love, no caring, no intimacy. Nothing that made us a family except DNA and blood.

Now I have friends that I can see love their children and raised them in a house full of love.  No matter what these kids have done or believe or act (and the kids are adults about the same age as me) my friends still love them and shower that love on them.  No strings attached.  No unreasonable expectations. And they give that love to everyone they meet, no matter.  They do and say things that my own family of origin would never tolerate or allow. 

It’s so strange and hard to go from a house full of fear with no respect for personal boundaries and extremely unreasonable behavioral expectations to what amounts to an almost free for all.  It’s not but it certainly seems like it to me.  I keep expecting the other shoe to drop, to expect something I can’t give, to be hurt and dumped.  This just can’t be real, can it?

It’s such a different world and I’m an alien in it. I don’t feel like I fit in.

It’s All Screwed Up

Quite true.

I was fired from my job and have been unemployed for about a month now. Fired because I can’t wear the stupid uniform due to my allergy.  But hey, rules are more important than people, right? Being put on suspension hurt more than the actual firing. I knew it was coming and was logistically prepared, just not financially.  Though honestly, things started going bad about a year ago, around the time I was first written up. It just went downhill from there. I truly believe that management had been looking for any reason to fire me and the uniform was the easiest.  If not that, then they would have invented something.  Like I said, that place has gone downhill.

So of course I haven’t been in a good place mentally though not as bad as the last time I wasn’t working. I’m still worried about money and about food though I won’t ho hungry anytime soon. But food is a big issue with me. Last night was bad because I kept thinking that if I didn’t eat then I wouldn’t have to use any food and I was lose weight and even if I still didn’t have money for a long time I would still have food.  I guess if I still had food to look at then I could convince myself that things were really okay and that all the bad hadn’t happened and I wasn’t going to lose my apartment and be homeless and hungry.  I’ve been both and I never want to be either again. I guess I’m just so scared that even though I can find a new job that I won’t get a new job and I’ll just be worthless and useless. That I’m not good enough for anything but dead end, mind numbing, minimum wage jobs even though I have two degrees. I mean, that’s the only kind of work I’ve ever really had.  I just know I can’t have good. It has to be bad and awful amd worthless and pointless and degrading and keep me in fear because success is bad. I can only fail. I cannot succeed.  Succeeding is bad. It means I’m something I’m not.

What I am is a failure.  At 31, I am a complete and utter failure. The only thing I’m good at is reading books.  I really don’t have any other skills beyond that.  I’m stupid and worthless and it took two degrees to finally drive it home that my mother was right in saying that I would never amount to anything and she’s right.  I tried to prove her wrong and completely failed.  I proved her right.  I have nothing to be pround, no accomplishments, nothing to be noted for, no skills or talents that are sought after.  I have absolutelt nothing.  I am absolutely nothing.


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