I know there are, like, three people who probably still read this blog, given that I so rarely post anymore. But that’s a good thing on days like today, when I start to think that a quick jump out my bedroom window might just solve all of my problems. Now, now, I know it won’t — and I’m not going there, or at least not after talking to my sponsor, who has told me that it’s normal to feel downtrodden and put-upon and all those crappy feelings.
But as 2009 draws to a close, I can’t come to any other conclusion than my life pretty much sucks. Oh, sure, I have plenty for which to be grateful: a few close friendships, good relationships with my children, my sobriety. But it’s what I don’t have that — surprise, surprise — is driving me bananas.
I have no money. And lest you think that by “no money” I mean “very little money,” let me tell you that my checking account is, as of today, overdrawn by $500. And it wasn’t overdrawn so I could buy clothes, or go out to eat, or be fanciful. No, it’s overdrawn because I paid my utility bills. And my rent. And food for my children. Even after I get my unemployment check and child support (and do ALL of the things I’ll mention below), I’ll have about $20 to last me the next two weeks. Which means I’ll be going without my medication, which is what keeps me from really doing things like jumping out the window instead of simply making uncomfortable jokes about it.
I also have nearly run out of food. So much so that I’m going to a food pantry tonight, and I have plans to hit a soup kitchen tomorrow night. I’m also spreading my legs to be a vaginal ultrasound model — yes, there are such things, which is pretty much the med-school equivalent of being a whore for science — for a $100 Target gift card and heading to a market research firm to taste-test sports drinks for $30. And, oh, today I thought I’d get $30 for donating plasma, but they turned me away because I have 2 too many tattoos (but, of course, the drug addicts rocking back and forth in the waiting room? THEY were okay…).
So there it is: I’m jobless, despite hiding all my tattoos and taking out my piercings and sending out (on average) 40-50 resumes per week. I’m out of food. I’m a month behind on my rent already (meaning at the beginning of December, I paid November’s rent). My cash supplies are perilously low. I can’t drive my car because it has some hideous brake fluid leak that my part-time hobbyist mechanic friends can’t fix — and so it stays put until I do have the money. Which may be never, I don’t know. My electric bill is slated to be cut off on Thursday (I chose this month to pay the gas bill, thinking the electric could hold for a while. Obviously, it couldn’t). And I can’t even rent movies to bring a little levity into my life because — three days before Christmas! — Renegade’s Nintendo DS was stolen while we were at the laundromat washing clothes, and in it was a $60 game rented from Blockbuster, which I have to pay for before I can start renting movies again.
I’m not here to complain — necessarily — but, instead, to shout a general question out into the universe: WHEN IS THIS GOING TO END?!?! And for anyone who might ask where my family is… well, they are nowhere. These are people who didn’t even support me — not even phone calls, much less visits or cards! — when I had BRAIN SURGERY; do you really think they care about my impending (if not already-arrived) financial doom? And, yeah, I have friends. I think if it came down to me being homeless or having a place to stay, there are at least two or three people who would open their homes to me temporarily. And though this is something, it is not enough, not right now, not when I’m in panic mode and I can’t even sleep at night because the stress of the world and its innumerable unnamed permutations are bearing down on me, so much so that I don’t even feel stressed; I feel numb and invisible.
I want things to fall into place. I want them to get better. I don’t want to have to pray to the universe to make it all happen and hope it will be okay at some point. This has been going on for NINE MONTHS. There is no sign that it will get better in the near future. Or, at the very least, when you start trying to donate plasma among drug addicts, actually look forward to being a medical whore, and depend on food pantries/soup kitchens to eat a balanced meal…well, that’s the beginning of a completely different stage of unemployment and despair. One that I haven’t encountered in a long, long time — almost two decades, in fact. And being desperate, lonely, and out of sorts when you’re 19 without a high school diploma is a completely different animal than resigning yourself to soup kitchens and $100 Target gift cards when you’re 36 with two children and just as many MAs.
I don’t know what to do, really. I feel as though my resources are tapped, the wells are dry. The friends who can help have done so, and I cannot expect them to do more. No, I do not WANT them to do more. It’s not their jobs to save me. Whose job it is? I don’t know. Some people might say it’s God or the universe or whatever. I don’t care, it doesn’t matter. I just want things to fall into place, for my life to make sense, and for there to be some sense of order out of this massively oppressive chaos. Call this an online bitch session, call it a scream of futility, I don’t know. It just is, and it’s where I am today.