I just took a Devil pill. I had no choice. I wanted to type and my hands wouldn't stop shaking. They're still shaking. It will take a little while to kick in. But I'm typing anyway. And eating carrots, just in case the fact that I haven't eaten all day is part of the reason my hands are shaking.
What's wrong? I hate that question. DREAD it. Mostly because I can't answer it on the spot. Sometimes I don't know what's wrong right at the exact moment my nervous systems decides to jump ship. However, with some time to reflect and think, I can usually sum up the triggers to a decent degree. This is why I write. This is also why I should never talk. I didn't used to talk much for most of my life. People would say, "You don't talk much do you?" and I would think...why should I? I have nothing to say. Somewhere along the line, though, I realized that I did have things to say, so I started saying those things, and no one listened. When I wrote, some people listened. For some reason my writing is better received than anything I have to say face to face. The lesson? Shut up. But I haven't learned that lesson well enough yet.
In any case, there is a lot that's wrong right now. There's a lot that's wrong with me. Too many things lingering, too much limbo, too many fights, too much anxiety, a lot of noise in my head. In fact the damn thing wouldn't shut up all day. Mostly I had three phrases that kept repeating themselves. ALL. DAY. LONG. The first was: "The truth of the matter is..." The second was: "I don't even care." and the third was: "I can't fucking do this." I don't know exactly what they are in reference to. They just kept running through my head. This is what happens when I'm overwhelmed.
Jack has been on the top of the trigger list lately. His anxiety. How he is fine one day and so not fine the next. (Payback perhaps for being the same way myself?) It's draining and has become a huge trigger for my own anxiety. Finding him a doctor turned out to be extremely difficult for me. It shouldn't have been but it was. I finally got a call back but they left a message so now I have to call them back again. I haven't been able to do it yet, but I will tomorrow when everyone is gone and the house is quiet, because that's the only way I can do it.
Working has been nearly impossible with school vacation, and sick days and snow days. I don't get sick pay, so if I don't work, I don't make money. Period. Right now I have $9 available in my checking account. I should be fine by Monday but until then...I have $9.
Along with the work issue, there is the house issue, which we are renting. Come May our monthly expenses are going to increase by $400 a month, should we choose to stay here. I want to stay here. I hate the thought of leaving. I've been trying to figure out ways that we can stay, I've been working harder and taking on more than I have time for to try to see if we can even come up with an extra $400 or not. And I'm failing. Miserably. It rests on my shoulders entirely because my BF only makes what he makes and has child support to pay. In fact, he's actually making a little less now and all of our bills have gone up. I don't think I can shoulder this, so last week I called the only other option we had and there is nothing available but we're welcome to add our name to the waiting list. I don't know what to do. I don't know what I can do. I feel like it's completely up to me to figure this out and I can't. The not knowing what the fuck is going to happen is taking a serious toll considering I'm the type of person who needs a plan.
And then you have the day to day crap. All the little things that I have to do because I'm the only one that will ever do them. I feel invisible. Taken for granted. Hung out to dry. God forbid I do that "talking thing" and attempt to share how I feel. Sometimes all it takes to lighten the load is for someone to acknowledge your feelings, or how much you do. I guess I don't ask for that the right way, but in all honesty, it pisses me off that I would even have to ask.
I feel like all that was good has been replaced with shit. Where's the fun? The love? The passion? Those were the things that brought me here. The things that kept me going. Now I have this huge weight of everything. No one will help me. Not even if I ask. Is it really surprising that having to take the damn trash out for the 160th time or hearing my boyfriend accidentally call his ex wife "babes" would send me over the edge? It shouldn't be.
I think the devil pill has kicked in. Only going over this hasn't helped. It's only made me mad.
Hope, who can't do everything and finally realizes she shouldn't have to.
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