Finally got the heat fixed on Tuesday which gave me about 20 hours of not wanting to give up and die. Then Wednesday I went out to run errands and ended up stranded cos my car battery decided to die. Luckily my sister and nephew and his gf came to my rescue, got the car jump started, and made sure I got home okay. It’s amazing how much toll one wrong thing takes on me. After that, my previous good-ish mind state slipped into a sense of terror and ‘what am I going to do without a working car?” Because of course everyone chimed in and decided it was the battery, no, maybe the alternator, and all I can think is not only do I not have the money, but I have no mechanic and no back up plan…
Fortunately the car has started the three days since, though the stalling out problem is getting worse rather than better and when I asked my dad and stepmonster, they just shrugged and said they had no idea. Yet in the past they were the ones who worked on my cars, now suddenly they can’t be arsed to even look at it. And I finally got my birthday gift from them, but only cos I called stepmom and guilted her, thus she guilted dad. He was fine giving me nothing. I managed to ‘extort’ cat food and they gave me ten dollars in rolled dimes (oh was that cashier thrilled with me having to unroll and count them all) but…
The worse part came with a letter from the new property management company. We are now only allowed 3 pets and all have to be inside at all times, which means I have to part with at least 5 cats, even though they were harming no one outside and my kid is having a fit cos the kittens need to be rehomed as they won’t stop messing on the bedding even though I finally got them litter trained. The manifesto from the mgmt company has all these plans to landscape, take our sheds away (so I am supposed to store my lawnmower inside????), they want all the yards pristine which means no toys for the kids outside. The tagline “we want to make these improvements so this becomes a place you look forward to coming home to everyday.” That sounds great, right? What it means is they’re weeding us low income people out and they plan on tossing us all out because we’re going to be unable to meet their standards. Just the outside of my trailer alone with its scraped paint (that way when we moved in) will get us tossed. And my former landlord, now their property region chief, doesn’t have the decency to be honest and tell me if I am on the chopping block.
This sent me into a downward spiral. Being lured into false security only to find out all the changes coming are indeed an effort to rebrand this place and drive us away if they can’t legally evict us. Without a home, I am a wreck because it means I have failed to provide for my child. Yet what can I do? I can’t come up with first and deposit on a different place plus utility charges and moving fees while trying to keep this roof overhead.
Meanwhile the sperm donor goes on his merry way not having paid a dime on Spook since late August and the state, who was supposed to keep track, doesn’t give a fuck and won’t give me information without some number and I can’t get the number without the number so they’ve tied my fucking hands. He skates on a third kid. And yet all Trump cares about are non white people being here and doing wrong. How about deporting the worthless Canadian who has two kids in the states he won’t see or support?
I am melting down. I have taken about all I can.
My uncle has been unhooked from all the machines, he’s basically drowning in his own lung fluid til he dies. My mom’s feet have swelled up and a trip to the ER told her she is in early stages of heart failure.
January 2018 has been the worst month any of us have ever had.
Hell of a time to be left without a damned psych doctor.
I keep trying to tell myself to do the serenity prayer because there’s really nothing I can do. If they kick us out, I can’t stop them because these plans have been in the works for months. Their plan is theirs and we are at their mercy.
My dad;s solution is for me to move 9 miles out of town to their armpit tiny town and short of living in a cardboard box, that is NOT happening. I grew up cut off from everything in a town of 144 with the nearest things 7 miles away. When I escaped ay 17 I swore I’d never ever return to being in such a trapped, hopeless location. This town may suck but at least I can get a soda at midnight if I need to. Not in tiny Bumfuck where even the need for a pack of hamburger means 9 miles into an actual town. NOPE. Not going back to that shit.
The hardest part is the cats. How I love my cats. How I don’t want to break my kid’s heart, we both love Vex and Hex but they won’t stick to the litter boxes and I have cats with seniority who do so…I hate this shit.
And since we’re basically on the chopping block you’d think I’d be running around trying to beautify the place so they couldn’t hold my shitty housekeeping against me. Instead I am stuck in a depressive inert loop while my anxiety ridden brain just spins and spins and convinces me nothing I do will change anything. And while others may find this hard to believe, I have been here before, even as a child, even when we rented from family members. Once someone decides you’re out, it’s done.My mom’s sister threw us out of the house we were renting when I was 8. So some random management company who wants to transform a turd into at least a block of fool’s gold after scumlords years of refusing to fix things thus we end up looking like destructive thugs…
It’s bloody hopeless. But I will hang on til the end. Because 9 years without paying late once or causing any problems should count.
I am seriously considering counseling, even though I will never be able to open up to those people. I’d go in, rant about things that are legit stressors, they’d make their professional cooing sounds and push their cognitive or mindfulness agenda and I’d walk out feeling just as bad, if not worse.
Hell of a choice, whether to do something that could harm more than it helps, but if I don’t reach out to someone and my disability case goes under review…All current info will be from doc nurse and since she was so dismissive…
I don’t know. Counselors don’t really have any say in disability claims. They can write reports and give your diagnosis, but they can’t actually influence decisions. If it were any other therapy place than Ursula central…ANY other place. They want us to get help yet leave us zero options to seek that help because insurance won’t pay.
I feel so trapped and frozen like a deer in headlights. So what am I going to do?
I am going back to binge watching Scandal. Because when your brain is on overload and your problems seem insurmountable…fiction is as good a method as any for helping remove you from your own stress and put you in the mindset of someone else’s stress. It’s not going to change my plight but it might help me ride out this current mind set where I feel so helpless and doomed. I am supposed to be able to use free time to battle my conditions and instead…the outside stressors keep blindsiding me so my concern is survival yet my disorders have me frozen and I can’t make sense of anything.
So I will go see if the president saves Olivia Pope and let their portray (accurate I’d say) of politics further my own gut feelings about how this country is fucking doomed under current regime. At least their storyline can change.
For the rest of us who aren’t bible thumping elitist, racist, pro life zealots…
We’re screwed.
If only real life had a writer’s room and we could scrap this current plot line and start over.
Proof I am losing it? Or just a need to escape a reality that is too hideous to comprehend in my current depressive high strung state?
Time will tell.
