fear, moods

a super rough night in brooklyn

Having one of those nights when I’m just overwhelmed with fear. I’ve “moved” into my temporary Brooklyn digs, which are heavenly compared to sleeping on a futon (though I should note that I’m immensely grateful for that situation being available to me). But I’m still jobless and my unemployment benefits are still ending very soon and I’m still terrified by what will happen next.

It’s not often I let myself really lean into these feelings. Probably related to my coping mechanisms developed during the grieving-over-Jack process, I try to stay on an even keel and not let things get to me too much. But there are times when something is added to my already-massive stress load and I just can’t do it anymore.

I got an email tonight from The Philosopher asking when I’d be sending him more child support. Since he was awarded guardianship of my older son, he’s entitled to 28% of my income rather than 20% (for one child). I’ve told him before that the “20%” I’m currently paying, which was based on my income when I had a job, is actually closer to 31% of my unemployment and that when I found a job, we could revisit it then. I’ve also told him I’m close to being homeless — the truth — repeatedly. But somehow he just won’t (or can’t) listen, or maybe he thinks I’m crying wolf, that things can’t possibly be that bad.

They are. Believe me, they are. The majority of people I talk to have absolutely zero understanding how close I am to complete disaster.

I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. Applying for a dozen or more jobs a day doesn’t help. Talking to The Philosopher and explaining my situation results in him asking for more anyhow. I go to meetings and they don’t help either. The only thing that keeps me wanting to wake up every morning is my children, not wanting to screw up their lives permanently. The only thing that keeps me from drinking is them, too. I know that if I relapse I’ll be as good as dead in their lives. And I won’t have it.

Instead, I’m miserable and scared and unsure what comes next. Prayer doesn’t help. “Letting go” is useless. And I’m tired of hearing people say I’m smart and something will break soon. I might have believed that after six months of unemployment, or maybe a year. Now I think it’s all a crapshoot. I have zero hope or faith. I’m interviewing Monday for a tattoo parlor receptionist job that would be a one-hour one-way commute and that’s my best chance right now.

I don’t know how long I’ll leave this post up. It depresses me even more to think that other people will read this and not have any solutions either. I’m not expecting anyone else to solve my problems, but it would be nice if just one person had some connection that could get me in the door somewhere. I just want to curl up and die. Or cry forever. Or both.

That’s just the way it is tonight. Might be better tomorrow, might not. I don’t have my hopes up, though.


3 thoughts on “a super rough night in brooklyn”

  1. Amy, Amy, Amy…

    Your words, slightly rearranged. “…how close I am to complete disaster. And I won’t have it.”

    My words: You will not fall, you will not. I won’t have it!



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