depression, fear, health, lessons, pain, poverty

on crummy holidays

So I was fired from my job on Monday for talking on social media about how I was attacked by a client and they did nothing about it. There went my income and any chance of getting my son here for the holidays. There’s an outside chance a friend is going to pay for his plane ticket but it’s just that: an outside chance. I haven’t had the heart yet to break it to him.

I’ve spent most of the day in bed, crying. Crying because I woke up in so much pain (I had to roll out of bed and literally crawl to the bathroom and pull myself onto the toilet in agony), crying because my father still isn’t talking to me and it’s almost 4pm & it looks like he won’t be calling me today, crying because I don’t have anywhere to go, crying because I could fall off the face of the planet and even if anyone noticed I was missing no one would know where to look. Because no one knows where I am. Literally no one.

I’ve seen a movie on Christmas Day every year since 1990. It’s kind of my thing. I’ve taken my kids with me when I have them, even when they’ve rolled their eyes at my silly tradition. This year it’ll take every ounce of energy for me to do it. I can’t really afford it, can’t really justify spending $14 on a movie when I only have $71 to my name and I’ll most likely be trying to pawn my laptop tomorrow to see if it’s enough for a plane ticket for my son (it won’t be). But it’s a Christmas gift for myself, and I suppose I deserve that if no one else is getting me anything.

I saw my psychiatrist on Friday, and he agreed with my neurologist’s suggestion to apply for disability. Except I don’t have any way to support myself while I’m waiting for it to be approved. He also said it was normal for someone under the amount of stress I’m under to want to die. (What?!?!) Which I guess made me feel human on the one hand (which is what he was going for, I think) but really hopeless on the other. Because if this is the best I can expect, if all he can offer me is, Well, the most anyone can do will what you’ve been given is wanting to jump in front of a bus, then that’s pretty shitty. I wanted him to tell me there was a better solution. But deep down I know there isn’t. When you’re walking through hell, you just keep going, right?

So, yeah, my neurologist suggested I apply for disability. And my psychiatrist said that doctors don’t usually suggest that unless they think patients really need it. I just wish I had the kind of support network that would allow me to make that kind of decision easily.

So here I am, on Christmas Day, with a thrown-out back and a worn-out heart. I don’t have the energy to keep going, but keep going is what I’ll do. Because that’s what I was taught to do: keep going even when you don’t feel like it, even when you’re tired, even when you’re hungry, even when you’re in pain, even when you’re broke, even when you’re broken.

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3 thoughts on “on crummy holidays”

  1. Everyday you blog about it and get through it is another day gone. It can get better and does. This shall pass. Keep your head up.

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    1. It’s true. When I think about all of the things I’ve written my way through (from the time I was a very little girl…) it brings me comfort.

      There’s a saying in sobriety: I have a sober past to refer to. I have that and more: a lifetime of survival. I keep waking up and telling myself it has to get better. I’ve been proven wrong so many times I’m starting to kind of feel like an idiot telling myself that… but, really, it has to, right? 🙂

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