I can’t do this anymore.
Applying for 20-30 jobs a day.
Getting told by the unemployment office that there’s nothing that can be done about my benefit going down to $78 a week, alternate benefit periods be damned.
Having $36 in my bank account until who-knows-when.
What’s the point.
I get told to get a job at Target.
Yes, because I didn’t think of that three years ago.
Or become a waitress.
Haven’t you heard? I’m overqualified.
Thinking of saying I’ve been home with the kids since 1997. It’s to the point at which lying makes me a better candidate than honesty.
I don’t know how to make it another day like this.
Tomorrow it’ll be the food pantry with the boys.
That freelance work I did for pay that the “friend” won’t answer emails about? Lovely. The money for an event I hosted six weeks ago that’s still not here? Lovely.
I hope no one I love ever has to feel like this.
Lodging until Sept 1, then a train to take the boys back to Chicago. After that, who knows. What’s the point?
Just tired, so tired. And I can’t see anything else but sadness and fear and not knowing how to keep going.
Glad the boys are here. Otherwise what really would be the point?
Maybe I’ll feel slightly better in the morning. But that won’t change my circumstances. I’m tired of being optimistic about tragedy.