Sometimes I wonder

Well, things seem to be getting slightly shittier than normal every day. The newest thing, on top of the other HUGE GLARING THINGS THAT STILL REMAIN UNRESOLVED, now I can’t even do our laundry at home. Part of the lease we signed for this house maintains that we are responsible for appliance upkeep. So now that our washer doesn’t work, it’s up to us to have it repaired. I have no idea what that sort of thing costs, but I know I don’t have the money. I filed our last year’s taxes, because look at the date. We owe $1742 in taxes. Because my W4 was wrong, but I didn’t correct it until October, and apparently at the three different employers my husband worked for he didn’t do a W4 correctly once. So there’s that to pay. There’s the washer to fix. In the meantime I guess I’m taking our laundry to a laundromat, and that sounds terrible. I use an app and pay someone to buy my groceries for me…do I seem like someone who wants to publicly wash their clothing? But, I don’t see any other option. But on top of everything else, not even being able to do the laundry is so depressing. At this point, it’s impossible not to freak out at my husband all the time. I am so tired of being upset about this topic. I am so sick of almost wanting to, and sometimes starting to, cry at my desk while I’m at work. This is Saturday night, which should be one of the best times of my week. But I’m really just perpetually reminded of how lonely and boring my life is. It’s nice to relax, and sleep in and all, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes the weekends depress me the most. When it’s never, ever you, sometimes seeing others’ vacation photos will bum you out. You don’t begrudge others their good time, but it’s like….meh….must be nice to vacation like ACTUALLY vacation, but I couldn’t be sure as I’ve never done it.

I feel justified in my frustrations. I keep thinking back to when my husband was volunteering almost full time and working, he kept telling me as soon as the election was over, things would go full throttle towards him getting a job. He also though Hilary would win. I feel like there’s an alternate reality where she did and maybe I’m really happy right now. All I know is ever since the election, things have taken an especially dark turn, especially for us. The holidays were shitty, both of them, in my opinion, for different reasons. And suddenly, it was Christmas and my husband was ditching me at his parents’ house to go spend time with his friends from grade school who were back in town for the holidays as well, and he still had done nothing by the way of securing a job. He had a seasonal gig that ended about the second week in December (I’m sure I’m repeating myself if you’ve read my other rantings). Then he just kind of rode this unemployment lull until after his birthday which is in the first week of January. Then and only then, 2 months behind schedule, did he start doing anything to try and find a job. And let me say, since then, it has almost been comical in a dark way how many leads and promises and failed follow thrus there have been. He’s incredibly discouraged, I know it. But sometimes I’m just not strong enough to deal with the reality that I’ve been the ONLY one providing $ for us since December and his shit ass mood. Like one night somewhat recently he was saying good night to me, which a lot of the time on weekdays is the only quality time we have with one another, he chose THEN to start complaining that I used to make him feel guilty about going to Jiu Jitsu or another class at a dojo he used to have a membership for. It’s true, it kind of sucks when your spouse is gone for 3 of the 5 hours you have between getting home from work and going to bed. But I also never asked him to stay home, and I never REALLY guilted him, but yeah sure I didn’t force myself to act happy/fake/lie about my real feelings. I feel like that’s what I’m being punished for, MONTHS later, here. And the fact that he chose then to complain at me about it, he literally was like “but then you’d bitch at me,” which he rarely says stuff like that. And I’m like….he thinks THAT was being bitched at? Has he seriously never actually remembered me bitching at him? I feel like it’s a shitty thing to say to someone, because it’s something my dad would say. I was ALWAYS accused of bitching at him.  Then, on an even more recent night, I got a lot of attitude and self-directed sadness from him when he was saying goodnight, because he wanted to go to a music festival that he’d gone to years past with again friends from his childhood, but the idea that he’d have that much spare money any time soon (I’d say he’d need $600-900 for the three day pass and a hotel room split three ways I think) is laughable. He was sure to convey how sad it made him that he couldn’t go, he was downright angry when he was saying goodnight. We honestly don’t see each other that much. Mostly because he’s usually asleep through a good portion of the time we COULD spend together. The whole need to nap everyday thing he has going is something about him I sincerely hate and wish I could change. I know you’re not supposed to want to change your partner, or whatever, but it drives me crazy that he ALWAYS has to nap. My dad was that same way. My dad acted like his getting a nap in was a near medical necessity. My husband doesn’t do that, he just ALWAYS passes out. Like I know, for certain, when he’s going to pass out on me. Like if we go out to eat, morning, noon or night, when we get home there’s an 85% chance he’s out within 15 minutes. The amount of time he’ll be asleep can range anywhere from 1-6 hours. Whenever we eat holiday meals, which are obviously always at HIS parents house, he’s oblivious to life in a food coma guaranteed afterwards. He spent Friday afternoon thru Saturday morning with his grandfather and dad in another city, about 4 hours away from here. I didn’t mind that trip because his grandfather is a very old man, and he shouldn’t just bypass an opportunity to spend time with him. But I KNEW as soon as he got home, he’d DOWN for a few hours.

True, in an effort of fairness, he did wake me up from a nap when he got home, encouraging me to come with him to a bookstore having a half off closing sale I’d wanted to peruse. We did that, and it was fun. We got an amazing number of books for $23. But then, not long after we’d been home, we really started getting into over you guessed it, his getting a job and the money situation in general. I’m just so sick of crying over it to myself. Like I even told my mom I felt like I was about to have a hysterical breakdown over it. I’ve started talking to her more because it’s easier to be open via email, if you’re me I guess. It’s nice to at least have someone tell you they’re on your side. I don’t think anyone else ever has.

Have I ever told you about the telltale sign I’ve been crying? I don’t know how much it happens to other people, because this isn’t something I would ever bring up in person with anyone, but one way to know if I’ve been crying, my lower eyelids swell, quite a bit. The upper ones too, but that’s a lot less noticeable because of my eyelashes. If I do a horrendous amount of crying (and believe me, in my life I certainly have), it’ll stay through the night and into the next day even.

They’re in the pictures of me at my in-laws just SURROUNDED by relatives the day after my wedding. No one noticed. No one registered how artificial my happiness was. I managed to keep it together until almost the last necessary minute. I’d made it all the way home, until right before the girl who’d watched our cats for us while we were gone getting married was dropping off our keys. Then suddenly I couldn’t take it any more and I freaked out on  him. He’d had to run down and get the key from the girl, she was dropping it off on her way to a softball game so she was in a hurry. I texted I was in the bathroom but really I’d just been sobbing too much already. Which, if I cry on already swollen lids, it makes them hurt a lot. Then they’re like, sore, the next day. This has happened to me a lot so I know what I’m talking about. Like I really want to know what I do to make such shitty things happen to me. Like am I really such an awful person? You know, sometimes it seems like most people around me would agree. Actually I think most people just think I’m weird. I’m outspoken about strange things to the others in my life, the people who will never know the real me, because they don’t want the real me at work, or church if I ever find one I like down here. It’s fine, it’s just tiring after awhile. Especially for me, it’s tiring for me to be around people of any persuasion. I genuinely value alone time, I guess because I get so much of it.

Lately though, all I do with my spare time is nap. I do that when I don’t want to deal with my life. It makes me tired. I think the same thing happens to my husband, and he never thinks to fight the urge. He’s always asking why he’s so tired. And yes, he’s been checked out medically, I’m not  being some heartless bitch to a sick guy. Like he fell asleep shortly after we got into a huge argument, screaming match, whatever you want to call it. It’s been hours now. I went to a nearby gas station and bought ice and V8 so I could make bloody mary’s. I’ve had one but probably won’t go beyond that. I need to make food still because I’m vowing to not go out to eat. Because when I did my taxes I straight up couldn’t believe the amount of money we actually made, together, last year. It’s way more than what we should need to live on, but somehow like we fucking can’t? I don’t get it. But one of our huge extravagances is going out to eat, which adds up quite a bit no matter where you go, so I guess I should try and embrace my depressing poor person’s life in every way now.

I should go because there are things I need to do before I go to bed for the night, which I have a feeling will be somewhat soon. You can’t really change your sleep schedule in two nights so I don’t really try.



a break in my mental health…a break for my mental health

Not from blogging. I don’t do this because there’s not enough time in a day usually. I wish there were. Then there’s the problem of an utter lack of motivation. Which is brought about by a culmination of factors that I feel like I’ve touched on by this point.

Nothing’s better. It’s always worse. Not that there aren’t things I know I should feel grateful for, but then I get made that THAT is always my knee jerk reaction. Like I feel compelled to point out that I know that others have had it worse. Like why do I do that? Why do I instantly discredit myself? Because I want to beat the listener to it, because that’s sort of response I would get WHENEVER I spoke candidly about my situation in life as a child. Of course, I think I’ve mentioned, that one of the worst things abusers do is remove your ability to communicate, to express, what’s happening and how you feel. Because those are the LAST things they want getting out. It was portrayed to me as a cardinal sin, to speak of “family business” to others. My mother is fond of the phrase “I don’t like nobody to know my business.” Yeah. Of course. GOD FORBID. I mean, I’m private too, when I can be, but the smothering out of dissent that was going on…it was very much a measure of necessary control.

Even those closest to me don’t see it. They think we’re normal because my parents put quite an effort into putting on a show for others. They’re the kind of people whose house is uninsured because they can’t afford to repair anything and no homeowner’s insurance is willing to give them a policy anymore, but they have a brand new car like all the time. Because people SEE your car. If you don’t have friends or family (which they don’t, not to speak of) no one’s coming over to your house, so they won’t see that. I remember, as a child, putting an UNREAL level of effort into maintaining our house because I was grossed out and embarrassed by it otherwise.

I guess they were good at hiding it, my parents. A great example of how fucking under the radar they know how to stay (and what I’m saying they hide is the idea that my mom is always hiding how MISERABLE her life is, how AWFUL her husband is, how UNGRATEFUL my dumb brother is. That she never talks about anything that really matters to anyone. As a child I was the exception of course. Like yeah it must have been about 100 times harder than it normally would be if a girl moves out of her parents’ at 18 right after and I mean RIGHT after high school. When I left my mom lost the only person she’d EVER thought to unload her emotional problems on. I mean she had her mom, but her mom was the source of a lot of her complaints, so naturally those were all exclusive to me. Then there was a lot of stuff she couldn’t tell her mom too, guess where that came? I guess sometimes she’d bring stuff up to a woman she worked with, a woman who had been my Godmother. I remember this because I didn’t have a need of a Godmother until I was in the 3rd grade. Because that’s when I was baptized. I was going to a school that preached children and infants probably went to hell if they died unbaptized (it varied by teacher how blatantly they taught that) and I wasn’t baptized. My teachers would always just argue with me and say I didn’t remember because it’d happened when I was a baby. I knew otherwise, and would tell them that, but then they’d just dismiss you entirely because it made them uncomfortable to be faced with the idea that THEY had just done something “uncomfortable.” I was baptized in the 3rd grade, my brother was in 6th. It’d been after chapel. Because 1.5-2 hours every Sunday wasn’t enough, we also had a 30 minute chapel every Wednesday first thing in the morning. In high school they shifted it to 15 minute chapel every morning at 10am, held on the ever-comfortable gym bleachers. I remember, quite distinctly, feeling incredibly self conscious as it was happening. Just thinking about how this was happening in front of all of my classmates, when I was this age. THEY had all been baptized as infants, with their family surrounding them during a church service on a Sunday. But no, I had to have it this way. Later on, someone said something to me about how my face was really red while it was happening. So there’s that, this hugely important thing to the Christian faith was occurring and I, being a 9 year old and all, was just embarrassed.  WHY did I not get baptized until this age? WHY wouldn’t our mother, who took us to church every week from my earliest memory and before, who enrolled us both in parochial school, why wouldn’t she have had us baptized as babies? IF YOU CAN IMAGINE, the source of this weirdness and bad memories IS MY SHITTY FATHER. Because he lived the first..hmm like 30 or so years of his life “in sin” as he liked to call it. His family wasn’t religious at all, just seemed to reject everything about it. But, while working on the police force, a fellow officer who would later become a pastor and start a church that actually does/did great things, my dad was converted. And boy, let me tell you, he SURE took strongly to the EXTREME evangelical right. Politically, he’s TOTALLY up the alley of anything that promotes hate and white supremacy. He is that WEIRD sort of racist though, who despises ALL other races and lets you know it quite frequently through his constant words and actions, but he neeeeeever says anything about Jews. Like literally, now that I’m older I find it somewhat fascinating. I will not repeat any of what my dad said about anyone of any African or other “black” descent, but…it was….it was SOMETHING to behold, honestly. I was ANGRILY admonished for even MENTIONING I wanted the Happy Birthday Addy America Girl book. Because Addy was a slave who (spoiler) escapes from slavery in her first book. The Happy Birthday book always came 3rd. My mentioning a desire for this book (Scholastic book order, anyone?) and the brief synopsis I gave of its plot was answered with an VERY angry glare, followed by an eye roll, followed by a vomit-worthy impression of well…guess. Like, American History X gets the part really right on, about how upsetting this inherent HATRED in someone’s parent can be, this is someone you’re told to love and respect even when they don’t deserve either. There was a guy I went to 1st-12th grade with, and he I guess super disliked me, and at one point in high school he asked me if I’d seen American History X, because I reminded him a lot of Edward Norton’s girlfriend. Now that I’ve seen that movie, I see that that is an AWFUL thing to say to someone. I keep a mental list of people I’d just fucking love to kill, and he’s definitely on it. It’s mostly men. Well, it’s all men excluding two. Idk what that means and I don’t care. Like run over with a car, fucking skin and carve their teeth out, whole, roots and all, from their gums, anything in-between I don’t care. That list takes some EARNING too, trust me. I know you know who started it, and whose stupid son is usually a close second. I go in and out on hating my brother. The only pass he gets is that he was a kid too, and he’s a lot stupider. Like I know how that sounds, but it’s so incredibly true. The only thing he’s good at is growing weed and NOT getting our mother a THING for her birthday. I’m still very steamed about that. I’m not letting it go. But back to my beginning ramble, my dad had this WEIRD religious bent that was really unexpected, pretty comical and made him tolerant of ONE race the usual white supremacists hate, the Jews. It’s just odd to grow up and learn there’s this one other kind of racism you didn’t know about. I guess you’d have to have been there. Not that I want that for you. I’m not that kind of mean. So my father’s Pentecostal Christian stance on things involved adult baptism. So, he naturally refused to baptize us as infants, because that’s not what his correct church did. My whole life, I spent the entire day hearing religious instruction at school. Because those teachers would work it into more than just religion class, trust me. Then, at home, I was told pretty much that everything I was learning in school all week and at church and Bible study on the weekends was utter shit, and only my dad’s church was correct and “alive.” Their whole obsession with the Holy Spirit, with speaking in tongues and acting like they’re ALL the oracle of God, it’s quite the norm at their church services. He had this OBSESSION with referring to the church my school was attached to as a “dead church.” Of course as meanly and hatefully as possible because that’s my dad. The DEAD church could never offer spiritually nourishing fare, as he LOVED to analogize. HE WAS OBSESSED WITH ANALOGIES. Aggghhhh thinking about it makes me mad. But, because he didn’t even think in 3rd and 6th grade that my brother and I needed baptizing, HE DIDN’T GO. My dad, who SAT AT HOME INSTEAD because he wasn’t working at the time I don’t think, didn’t attend the baptism of both of his children. Like…seriously. That’s pretty messed up, if you’re young me. So, as you can see, my dad even managed to ruin religion for me. I wasn’t free to wholly believe in the Lutheran doctrine that was essentially being forcefed, though I didn’t mind it much, but at the same time I wasn’t exactly getting real spiritual guidance from my lazy ass father, he just KNEW he was right, of course. He NEVER, EVER took us to church or went with our mom and us to church. There was a short bout when I was in high school where he suddenly “out of the blue” became QUITE interested in a Pentecostal church in a nearby city, a city he worked in, a church two of his trashy coworkers from Art Van Furniture attended. One, with her boyfriend whilst she was still legally married to her husband. I, personally, don’t know what to say about that topic, but I bring it up ONLY to tell you that, especially in the years since I’ve been gone, whenever my mom has expressed a desire to go to church, or does go, he greets it with dark suspicion. He’ll literally say things like, “Well, I just wonder who you’re so eager to meet there,” He’ll LITERALLY imply my sainted mother meets a man she’s having an affair with at church, because that’s what his trashy, slutty coworker did. It’s SO terrible really because I know it upsets my mom, to HER that is a REALLY ugly thing to be accused of. Just like, when I was a preteen and started being incapable of standing my father’s presence, he decided that I didn’t “look like him or act like him” and if they divorced he’d demand a paternity test before he paid any child support for me. Now, if I were in this situation with my husband, and he said something like that to me if we had a child, my response would be something along the lines of “Well fuck you too motherfucker, I don’t really like being called a fucking liar.” But the idea of my mother ever speaking such words is laughable. To her, that was a HUGELY insulting thing for him to say because of what it implied. If ONLY something like that were true, that I actually had a different dad, who literally couldn’t be any worse than what I’d got. But there’s just literally no shot at that being true when you know my mom. But then my mom had to tell me all this, because she had no one else to tell. Because the only other person she had to talk to was my 3rd grade baptism Godmother. And now I’m done explaining why that was a thing. Now, I don’t think my mom would kowtow so easily, but my brother and I are 32 and 29, almost, so this was quite awhile ago when she acquiesced over everything, I know I’ve mentioned that before.

I guess it’s going to take me forever to do anything. But we’re getting there, some odd progress has been made. You know certain things I’ve never told anyone else. That’s what makes someone truly special, to me. If you’re not going to run out of terrible, horrible secrets any time soon, you kind of have to keep them around for when they’re worthwhile. It’ll happen. Even if it’s just you trying to weave a mottled tapestry of your memories because you might be able to do it in such a way that others will want to read it. That’s all I really want. I’ve always most certainly believed that’s where fulfillment lie. Of course that also makes the pursuit terrifying because that whole like oh I can’t fail if I never try losers mentality. Plus there’s the worry you only have ONE idea. But you just need to keep reading, if that’s the case. I don’t think one can write if one is not reading. I suppose there are those who would argue otherwise. In my line of work, that is my life, there’s ALWAYS someone who wants to argue otherwise,  no matter what. I DO NOT like being contradicted, and the near cousin of that is not liking ever being wrong, but I’ve never been lacking in humility, its part and parcel with humiliation, after all.  I’ll admit when I’m wrong, but if someone DISAGREES with every sentence I speak, I’m going to start registering intense dislike, despite efforts made otherwise on that person’s part to appease me. Two examples, a girl I ended up working with for a few weeks who was the then girlfriend of my then boyfriend’s friend. She had this way about her, she started every fucking sentence with “Well, no…” My mother in law does this too. I don’t understand it, but when I mention it to my husband it’s like it doesn’t even register with him that she does it. I can’t figure out if it’s just me or she does it to everyone. I think it stems from the fact that she’s never wrong. Which stems from my father in law’s anxious, constant need to please, to not be the cause of strife, to solve problems before they happen. This sort of attitude allows for my mother in law making ALL decisions, her opinion has been law for 3 decades, she’s GOING to be opinionated. She sure was during the wedding planning. Most of it I just let go, because I’m not the most ungrateful person to ever live, and they did pay for EVERYTHING concerning the wedding. My parents were just like other guests. My mom did do my wedding shower though, which I honestly didn’t enjoy because NONE of my friends were there. Okay, two of them were, friends from a former job, but they brought their kids, AKA might as well not have been there. It just sucks because you usually get to do things like dress shopping and the wedding shower with your whole group of bridesmaids, and your friends. But I don’t really have any friends, and the only time all of my bridesmaids were together was the night before and the wedding day. But, more on my wedding later.

More in general, later. It’s been quite awhile since I started this post. Given that I get up at 4:30am, I should be off,


when something delights me in a dark, familiar way only the left half of my mouth smiles

It’s a quirk I noticed from being fucked up on occasion. Today, for a lot of reasons, I bought Absolut vodka after work. I haven’t had much, but it doesn’t take much anymore.

An ODD amount of rage and animosity have been in my life lately. It’s giving me an possible idea for a second book. It’s not like…done…yet….but sometimes you have to follow through on something you find your imagination fixate on. But NOT your dreams. Omg, don’t get me started with that shit. That’s a huge peeve of mine, when people tell you about their dreams. IT DOESN’T MATTER. Also, IT’S NOT INTERESTING. It might be of interest to the dreamer, because 1) you saw it, 2) it’s YOUR memories and experiences getting scrambled together before they file (either back or for the first time) as long term memory. You know the shit that happens when you sleep. It’s of note, sometimes, what your mind can come up with, but ONLY TO YOU. Agh.

But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because  I’m drunk and lonely, of course. I used to get like this all the time when I was young, when I first lived on my own and was on my own in pretty much every sense. But I didn’t have access to getting fucked up then. I was underage for booze, and I didn’t know about weed yet. I tried it because my best friend offered it. I don’t say that because i think my current…uh….usage….is her doing. It’s a person’s choice to do a drug. I’m not saying that to vilify drug users and addicts either. I’m just saying I wasn’t like tricked or coerced. But then yeah it made dealing with deep drama my family caused in my early 20s, that I’m sure I’ll get to at some point a lot easier. I didn’t get into drinking at all until I was dating my future husband. I used to HATE beer and think it was all gross and weird and like piss in more than one way (taste, color). Ha, look at me now, right?

Of course another book idea I have is somehow compiling this, of course. I wouldn’t be doing this for NO reason.

So this week sucked. I mean I don’t have to work tomorrow, so that’s tight and all, but damn are things fucked. I mean not that fucked I guess but not great.

So my mom’s birthday was last Saturday, and my DICKWAD dad and brother didn’t do anything. Like literally didn’t even get a cake. And she told me about it when I asked. And then after my response to that, she did this thing were she totally dissociates herself from a situation that’s shitty, like most of her life. She wrote an email that didn’t acknowledge a single thing I had said in the previous email and was just her telling me about her day. It’s frustrating, when you know your parents has willingly mentally checked out of a situation because it’s too much for her to try to deal with. She’s always done that, but it’s still shitty. So I didn’t email her for a few days. I was irritated. Then she did that thing where she’s worried about me if I’m silent. It’s annoying, all of this.


Yeah just that subject should tel you this will be a real one. After all, I think I’ve expressed a great deal of what I feel about them already. But I realize, sometimes, that most people don’t totally understand about my brother. I think I might be the only one who does, because the only other people who MIGHT have are my mom (who…I mean if you want to get technical about it is kind of an idiot, at least when you constantly disassociate from the emotional pain in your life instead of dealing with the cause of it, your husband, you’re kind of just off in your own world, not closely observing the emotional turmoil your children are constantly subjected to) and my dad…and my dad is the cause of…hmm….let’s say like..80% of my brother’s problems. There’s also….something….about my brother….that kind of got really amplified because he was treated so badly for so long, by someone whose only meaning in life stems from torturing other people. And to be frank, my brother isn’t nearly as smart as I am. I’m not just talking school, but obviously I always excelled there and he always just scraped by. And it wasn’t that he was stupid or couldn’t learn, he just did not and would not give a fuck. He was just too good and too cool for any of that. He was definitely the sort of student I saw in my own grade, usually a boy but not always, turned things in late, goofed off in class when they were specifically supposed to be doing something, projects and speeches were always sub par, I think you know who I’m talking about. The boys were good at gym usually, the girls not even that.They just obviously cared less. Why they cared less, I can’t say. I’ll admit that I am definitely of a certain mind that the traditional education system works with. I don’t want to be a hands-on learner. I never minded being lectured…I guess you could say….Yeah, there were certain things that my childhood prepped me for in a big way, and I’m not going to ignore them, but I feel like you should be able to understand why I’m not like…THANKING….anyone for them. But yeah, I mean honestly my dad was such a fucking psycho all the time, it caused a few things that, looking back, I see teachers and other adults I interacted with might have found unusual/unappealing (to Lutherans, those words mean the same thing). 1) I KNOW for a fact some adults, like my 2nd grade teacher who was married to my 8th grade teacher (for half the day at least) who was also the DCE at the church afffiliated (and in the same building with) my grade school, did NOT like how forward/familiar I was with adults, BUT when your mom constantly keeps you in the loop of her adult world, I don’t know there’s blurred lines. I’m honestly not talking about anything all the depraved, but I guess I was all too comfortable joining in on adult gossip, for one. But it’s because I didn’t quite understand where the line of propriety was, because trust me, I didn’t get any of those in my life.  This same 8th grade teacher told my best friend’s mom, having been invited to her house for dinner shortly after my best friend and her twin started going to my school, that he thought my mom allowed my brother and I too much freedom for how old we were. That’s as much as he was willing to say, because I mean he’s not a stupid person, he was I’m sure well aware my best friend would tell me what he said. So that was the kindest way he could think to put it. So…all right. Yeah that sort of behavior is NOT a child’s fault at all. As much as I detest most children (you try working 11 years in retail, in PET STORE retail, and not just fucking hate demanding, grubby-handed little screechers who are getting a pet because their parents are sick of their whining over one, but it’ll end up dead in its first year like 90% of the time. And I’m not even exaggerating. Rabbits, guinea pigs, hamsters, do EVERYONE, and not to mention the animals, a favor and BUY THEM A TOY INSTEAD.  PLEASE. That’s what they really want! Aghhh! You have no idea. It upsets me to think about. But, we’re on a different topic that upsets me to think about, so one at a time I guess. 2) Because I was smart, I read a lot, I also had access to cable, and our cable was pirated so it included racier channels, and I had an older brother whose room I enjoyed going through when he was gone. This was something I only did at a very young age, because if you get caught doing something like that it doesn’t bode well with a personality like my brother’s. So okay, because of a combination of all of the factors I just mentioned, I tended to be the one who ‘knew stuff.’ Let me be quite clear – I didn’t lose my virginity until I was 18. I didn’t kiss anyone until I was 18. It was fucking embarrassing to admit, I’ll tell you that. The second one I mean. I mean most people have a boyfriend of sorts before that age, but not me. SO, no matter what people thought it meant, or how ‘dirty’ it made me seem, I was the one friend someone asked what ‘jerking off’ or ‘blow job’ meant, and it in no way affected my own virtue. I just don’t like that, in that environment, I was painted quite differently than I was in reality. Like, have you ever been tricked into repeating a really dirty joke in the wrong place? Oh that happened to me, really bad one time. But it doesn’t matter know the woman who was a youth bible study leader who’d yelled at me so sternly so saying it, she had two daughters, and the younger one was a huge skank in the I’m so gross no one will date me but I do sex things with a group of guys because I hang out and drink with them, SO maybe she should’ve been dedicated that rage and judgment a little more homeward and her youngest could’ve been spared the embarrassment of sucking a dude off while three of his friends secretly watched. But anyway. One person who had quite the firm opinion that I was a little slutty slut was my best friend’s mother. Now granted, we’ve all come to admit that she is just batshit crazy and must be tolerated because…idk the mother wound keeps her coming back I guess….but back then when we were kids, parents wielded significant power, AND her mom was specifically very controlling and invasive and nosy. When I was 16 I was definitely the only one in my group of friends that had a job, and shortly after that I was one of the only ones with a car. But what happens when your children’s friends start driving, you lose a lot of control. This was a time before most of my friends had cell phones of their own. We all had them by college, of course, but we went largely unmonitored as teens. So her mom had an even deeper resentment of me from that, but even before my working and driving days had begun, she’d openly remarked pretty hateful things about me to her daughters. Come to think of it….I don’t really know why the both of them always felt so compelled to tell me what she said about me. I think maybe it made me cool to them? Like if you resent and secretly dislike your mother, you might want to be friends with someone she detests so much. For example, she told them things like “[She] wears enough make up to last a normal person 3 days.” For one, that was just untrue. I didn’t even wear that much make up in the 8th grade. Eyeshadow, maybe eyeliner (bottom only, lololol) that was usually it. I wasn’t good at applying it, to be certain. But make up application, along with plucking their eyebrows and shaving their legs, was something that their mom wouldn’t allow the twins to do until she said it was appropriate for them to do so. The only exception was when they’d been in dance recitals, and I’d seen the pictures from those, when their mom had done their make up, and she’d made her lovely daughters look like eighties coke whores. She probably saw some things she resented about herself in me. That’s the issue with most people. The birthday party thing my ninth grade year was to rent a hotel room and have a sleepover there. To use the pool, get pizza or McDonald’s brought in by a parent, it was great. A friend whose birthday was in March (a month before mine) had a hotel party. Her parents were staying at the hotel as well but in another, adjacent room (they’d needed a smoking room, because those existed back then). My best friend and her twin were warned by her mother that if I “snuck out to do research” they were to stay behind in the hotel room. Yes, that was 14 year old me all right, sneaking around a hotel, prowling for sexual encounters. Like really when I think about what she said about me because her daughters knew what ‘blow job’ meant without her consent, FFS. I seriously still resent and hate this woman. The twins were both in my wedding party but I explicitly forbid my mom from inviting their mom. Then, about a month later it was time for my birthday party and, for reasons that were embarrassing to admit, which I’ll get into, my mom only got one room, for my and my friends. She’d be around for part of the evening of course, but she was going to sleep at our house. The first big reason for this was because my parents didn’t have the money for a second hotel room. I had already been told what a burden the one was. And even if they had somehow had the money, which they didn’t, my dad would NOT have liked that. Just why was she staying in a room by herself? Did you notice anyone coming and going? What was she up to all night? I could just hear the questions he’d have for me. I could only imagine what he’d ask her in private. So, for unspeakable reasons, my party wouldn’t have a nearby adult supervision room. The twins’ mom DID NOT like that one bit. I remember I was on the phone with one of them, they were acting as translator for their mom who had questions for me but didn’t want to speak directly to me, and when she asked for my parents’ room number so she ‘could call if she needed to’ and the twin relayed the information that my parents wouldn’t be staying (the idea that my dad would be involved with a party of mine at all is insane. He wouldn’t even go to my Baptism which happened when I was in the 3rd grade so I remember it well. More of that later) I remember how loudly I’d heard her squawk “WHAT?!” in the background of the phone. Then suddenly it became worthy of her attention and she was on the phone, talking to my mom. It was a mess.


Ugh okay I got really distracted talking about this, but it’s because I honestly feel like throughout my entire childhood, and through my brother’s childhood, we were pre-programmed to be detestable to shitty adults. And unfortunately when that’s what you’re surrounded by, you get picked on a lot. Like, it shouldn’t happen, because they’re all children, and these individuals certainly wouldn’t have tolerated such exacting criticism, rudeness, ridicule, towards their own precious spoiled sure of themselves children, but sometimes adults like forget who they are and start getting shitty and childish with one student more than another because, I mean I get that they’re human, but I feel like Lutheran teachers are a flawed bunch. Some are there because they genuinely want to teach Christian children. Some are there because you can get grandfathered in to a sweet gig if you just let the Lutheran river take you. I.e. there were teachers who had gotten their job at schools like mine because they went to Lutheran schools Pre-K -> College. A LOT of them had parents who were either teachers themselves, or in the case of the men, pastors. It’s a thing that happens. These shitty, shitty educators who do not deserve the responsibility they have, get swept into a teaching role because of their impeccable credentials, from a Lutheran standpoint. Plus, honestly, I feel like there’s a certain thing that happens to teachers who get burned out. Especially ones that teach younger kids, like below the 8th grade. They start acting like their students. The  immature, jabby humor, the snide remarks and eye rolls. Then they still have that I’m-right-and-I-know-it attitude teachers always have. It’s WEIRD coming out of a 40 or 60 or 70 year old But I’ve definitely seen it firsthand.


reason i know it’s 9th grade not 8th

Lately continued (I ran out of time)

Work and life responsibilities are trying to ruin everything (big surprise).

I will now continue with yesterday’s list. I know what I just brought up.

Just because something has been happening for years, doesn’t mean it still doesn’t make you sad every single day. Let’s see, I haven’t seen my mother in a year and 8 months. The one time I did see her, it was the few times I visited her in a hospital near me when she had extensive orthopedic surgery and her recovery was like 2 weeks. My dad it’s been even longer, like over two years now. But if you don’t count those times in the hospital, which I mean…bleh….what awful memories hospital stays and visits are….it’s been over two years for my mom too. We communicate, because like I’ve said we can email one another because my dad has no possible way to control or monitor what she does on her work email. I’m glad she’s able to email me every day. That is not something my job would tolerate if I ever got caught doing it. Which, I can email from my home computer and phone, so it’s not a real issue for me. But yeah, for over two years, I’ve only spoken to my mom via email. We can’t talk on the phone, at home the reason should be fairly obvious. That was one of my father’s favorite things, eavesdropping on phone conversation. He’s really obvious about it too. He’ll mute the TV while he’s watching it if he hears my mom on the phone in the other room. Or he’ll find some very thin pretext to come into the room she’s in. OR he’ll just start talking to her while she’s talking on the phone, needing to know right then whom she was speaking to. He also had a deep obsession (once they came about) with checking the call history of her cell phone, commenting when there was a number that wasn’t saved or recognizable to him. He made sure she knew he did this too. Always. He also made sure I knew he’d go through my brother’s and my room’s whenever the mood took him. I never remember him finding anything in mine, but more than once he’d helped himself to the contents of my piggy bank. To be honest, he DID always put an IOU in the $’s place….but….still….it was KIND OF some bullshit that I couldn’t even keep money in my piggy bank if I wanted. Like, I should KNOW I had to hide it, it was MY fault for leaving it somewhere he could take it from. Yeah. Pretty accurate description of a lot of his attitudes towards things. I’ve had the same piggy bank my entire life. It was purchased at the hospital gift shop the day I’d been born. I still have it, wrapped heavily in bubbly wrap in a bin of childhood memorabilia. It had one of those rubber stoppers in the bottom so it wasn’t the old school you-only-open-me-once kind of piggy bank.But yeah, I couldn’t really trust to use it. Oh yeah, in case you’re wondering, he did pay me back, sometimes, after weeks and weeks, or sometimes I’d whine/guilt the $ from my mom. I mean it’s “all the same” when you asked my dad about it, but HE never seemed to be the one to open his wallet. But anyway, this was just another small snippet of why he sucked so bad.
The sadness caused by my inability to ever see or speak to my mother is constant. The fact that it is constant, and yet largely unacknowledged, is part of the issue. At this point, there’s no going back even if I wanted to. So, I guess I’m just hoping my dad dies soon, I guess. I mean HE is the one who’s made it this way. It’s not me. You have to pay the price, sometimes, when you do what’s right. Because it’s not easy. The narrow road. The path less traveled. You get it. Then, I don’t know, I’m probably more disgusted by my 43 year old sister in law’s COMPLETE and TOTAL emotional dependence on her almost 70 year old mother than I would be if I ever got to see my mom. But all my sister in law has ever done is unload her problems (the problems she and her stupidity and inability to make smart choices caused, mind you) on her mom. I CANNOT imagine. Like…what??? Sometimes I complain to my mom about certain things like she knows all about being behind on bills and out of money and married to a deadbeat. I mean I guess I should describe my husband like that, but when someone is as notoriously unemployed as him, and I’m over here working and functioning at like 150% more capacity than he ever could, AND he’s being emotionally negative towards me ALL the time now, when he’s not asleep or wallowing about in self pity. The only time we enjoy time together is if we’re going out to eat together. Then sometimes he even ruins that. He tells me I’m always talking negatively about him, that I’m just spewing cutting remarks aimed at him all the time. The fact that I manage every aspect of our lives (I handle ALL matters financial, I do our taxes, I pay the bills, I run and care for the house in every aspect. Now that he’s been unemployed for over two months, he does minor household things every day. The sort of things I did when I was a child of 10 or so.The things I was EXPECTED to do without pay as a child so I didn’t get negatively reinforced a whole lot, because that was definitely the common theme of their parenting styles) and take care of everything of his to the point where he’s responsible for only HIMSELF. Like I cannot imagine existing in life and only needing to shower, and put gas in my car. Groceries appeared in my kitchen. Dirty clothing left all over the house shoots itself through the washer and dryer and back into my closet/dresser. The bath tub and toilet and sink scrub themselves. The floor sweeps and mops itself. I request to be woken up by the smells of cooking dinner during my afternoon nap that always bleeds into the time my spouse gets home from work…. okay that last one was really specific but it REALLY annoyed me. Like even “joking” it REALLY makes me want to tell him to go fuck himself. Like okay, my mom got up first out of all of us, for the most part, except my junior year when I had to get up at 6am because my mom refused to move her shower time to accommodate my need to morning-shower with the hairstyle I had that year. But, because he slept in “shifts” as he called it (i.e. 6-7 hours from late night-morning but with a generous 3-4 hour nap in the afternoon most days, like REALLY necessary this nap was), my dad would be up around 7 or 8 too, blarring the TV in a room that shared a wall (with windows) with my room. My mom was expected (among feeding the cat and whatever she did for herself) to start his coffee water and turn on the heater in his ‘room’ (let’s call it) which was cold because it was an addition, that’s why my bedroom wall had windows that looked into another part of the house. It SUCKED. Do you know what it’s like to grow up in a bedroom with NO natural light??? IT FUCKING SUCKED. I mean, I guess it’s good I got my own bedroom, not the closet though. I had to share that. My bedroom was  probably 36 square feet….max. There was a closet twice the size of what I’d called your “average” door (think slightly narrower than a single front door, I guess? the specifics don’t matter anyway). But yes, the only young girl in the house had to share her small closet, half-way to be exact, with her mother. My parents’ and brother’s bedrooms both had closets of the exact same size, they even all had the same awful plywood sliding doors that only connected at the top, and they were hollow and therefore easy to damage. My dad had punched the fuck out of my parents’. If you can imagine. Their bedroom door too. Other doors…other walls…all bore signs of his need to smash and punch when enraged (which was often). Somehow, the logic behind his rule equated to the closet in my parents’ room to be his, my brother’s to be his own, then my mom and I shared mine. Many a loud argument came about because I was smashing my mom’s clothing too far over onto her side. Also, because her clothing (we had to seasonally rotate, in case you’re wondering) was in my closet, every evening, as she prepared for another workday, she would come into my room, sit dejectedly on the edge of my bed and stare wistfully at the clothing she was tired of wearing. I knew the emotion quite well. Some nights she’d sigh and complain. I knew then from school and I know now from work, it sucks being around people who are much more able to freely spend their money on their wardrobe, or their car, or vacations. So, like, even closet space is something that’s kind of emotionally loaded for me, because it was just another thing that I understood about the adult world way before I should have. Plus it was something my mom complained to me about. I try not to fault her, but I remember, when I was a freshman in high school and she dragged me to this terrible Catholic youth counselor, the counselor told my mom it wasn’t right that she complained to me about her adult problems (like being frustrated with my Grandma), that she should call a friend of hers if she needed someone to talk to. But trust me that’s the last thing my mom would do. For one, she doesn’t have anyone she’s that close of friends with, never has. If you can imagine, someone like my dad did what he needed to keep her close friendships severed. Plus that happens naturally as you age, I think. People move away or have kids and become distant, careers change, divorces happen, etc. I think he only tolerated my Grandma because she helped out so much money-wise, but he liked to frame it that he just couldn’t do that to my mom, as rotten as my Grandma was. But I guess she wasn’t awful enough for the taint to affect her money so much so that my dad didn’t ask for it with both hands. That’s the general impression I always had towards my dad and his treatment of my mother’s family, particularly her mother. He was an absolute dick to her brothers, too. Again, he kept them away like he kept his own family away. People like him don’t like distant relatives, they’re an outside influence that MIGHT just have some personal knowledge of how much of a monstrosity of a human being you are. Gotta get those people out of the picture. He needs a nuclear family, obviously, because you need someone, preferably more than 1, to abuse and control. You couldn’t be abusive and controlling if you were alone all the time. I mean there’s the usual scapegoats – your waitresses and cashiers – but it cost to interact with either of them, your wife/son/daughter were free. Emotionally-loaded is actually a perfect term for me. Because most distressing things are also that for me. Because of my childhood. Now the only thing I know how to do really is write about it. You can’t undo it, you can’t just get over it. You must express it in some way, and I think I established early on that I can’t really afford therapy, and my insurance is shitty. So is my internet. I seriously have to keep plugging an ethernet  into my laptop. What year is this.


Honestly I guess this thought/list is concluded because that’s pretty much it. The broke-ass-ness of my recent life, combined with my husband’s unemployment. The loneliness and lack of confidant-friendships. The inability to see my mother or have any contact besides email. Everything else I’ve been dealing with since I was a kid. Then I guess I didn’t get into my unfulfilling sex life…that’s a topic for another day….I guess…..I put off writing about it like we put off talking about it. But anyway, it’s almost 4pm and I have only ingested coffee and milk and sugar and artificial flavoring so far today so I need to eat, it’s at the point where I’m shaky. Which gets annoying because you can’t trust yourself to stand up slowly enough.

Anyway. Out.



Lately, I have been incredibly lonely.

That’s honestly the worst part of all of it right now. But there’s a lot. Want me to run down a list that I’ll probably get lost in a rant during? Okay if you insist.
-I am so fucking sick of being fucking poor. A lack of financial security was a common topic in the home I was brought up in. My mom said just a week or so ago that she’d had to turn to her mom for financial assistance all the time, because there was always one financial struggle after another for them. My dad’s losing his good job when I was 5 and my brother was 8 and then being unemployed for the next 3 years PROBABLY didn’t help. Honestly it’s astounding that job even gave him a pension. My husband and I were just talking about this last night, and I think they did that out of pity for my mother and my brother and I. Plus…anyone who knew him even a little probably already did feel really sorry for her. Which is what you should feel towards my mom. Like I really do not at all ever tolerate anyone talking bad about her to me. Like, I can’t even do that when it’s healthy, so don’t fucking start with that shit to me when it’s malicious. Again, I wouldn’t have this problem if my dad hadn’t just CONSTANTLY berated my mother to me, both in front of her and behind her back.  So I already grew up in a situation where I heard A LOT of fights about money, mostly it’s lack and my parents inability to keep their head above water. My dad’s obsessive spending probably has something to do with it. I mean of course he doesn’t do that now because he can’t but he’s definitely one of those people who gets $ and HAS to blow it immediately. It’s a VERY common strain of white trash characteristic. I know because I worked in specialty retail for 11 years, and I see what the trashiest/poorest do with their tax refunds (because they get the biggest ones because they have multiple children). So I didn’t know what it was like to have anything extra. My Grandma was the only reason I even got like new school clothes or homecoming and prom dresses. She was also the only reason my brother and I went to private school. Pretty much anything good in my young life somehow sourced from my Grandma. I mean don’t get me wrong she could be a huge bitch (her mother wound isn’t as strong with me because she’s a generation removed, and I saw her twisting the knife with my mom so much it’s going to build resentment, because when my mom was REALLY upset about my Grandma, just take one fucking guess who she talked to about it) but yeah my first statement is just as true.  Then from there, I don’t know I just kind of launched myself into debt. I moved out of my parents’ house as quick as I could. My idea was to take out student loans as needed to cover college, and work for my money to live on. Well, that idea worked for the first nine months of my life on my own, because I shared an apartment with a roommate. But she finished college and I moved into my own one bedroom. I didn’t know how to find a roommate, I didn’t want to risk it online again. I ended up taking out personal loans on top of the federal loans I was getting to go to college. I mean I did qualify for some scholarships, but those are only for so much, or only for so many years, so especially 3rd year on it was pretty much all federal loans for college (AND I did that same thing for graduate school….please…don’t judge me…..) and of course I have a decent amount of credit card debt because…okay I know to a smart person this will sound dumb but sometimes you’re like oh I can’t afford this so I better get a charge for it. I mean you can get a credit line going so you have a credit score. But I’m a minimum payment typa bitch, ESPECIALLY lately, as I’m slowly getting to. So I have about 90K in total loan debt because of school. BUT, I mean I make $17.50 an hour at my job, but I have a 401K and health insurance for both of us taken out of there. We’d be okay if my husband worked at a similar job, or even a little less. I’ve never not made more than him. I’ve always worked MUCH, MUCH more. I know if he read those two sentences he’d be so offended. He has this way about him, I don’t know what to call it, but it’s when someone feels like you’re constantly taking a slight at them, that you’re always trying to make them feel bad about themselves. I mean there have been times when I’ve shouted “Well you should feel bad!” back to that, but other times he really needs to get a thicker skin. I don’t know where it comes from. And then it makes me a little afraid because, am I like, so awful all the time? I mean….I guess….it’s possible I’m crazy and delusional like my father and I just think I’m normal, because let me tell you, HE sure thinks HE’S normal. He doesn’t even know how awful he is. That’s one, of many, of the worst parts. My husband couldn’t work when he was in college, and in the time it took him to finish his bachelor’s, I finished my bachelor’s and got my masters. Despite the fact that I was working full time the whole time and taking care of the house. But, in the August of 2016, my husband finished college. He was going to apply where I work, but I knew he didn’t want to. Then, the girl he was trying to extra-martial with from college (I’ve mentioned her right? I mean I knew about it, as he knew about my side chick) offered him a position where she worked (a place, also, operated by her mother). He took it, I felt with the intention of using it to gain access to this chick’s pussy. His employment there spanned over Christmas. My mother in law bought me a gold sweater which I think is pretty but does NOT sit flatteringly on me at all so I never wear it and some hideous fake gold jewelry from Kohl’s that I’m sure I’ll never wear. She told me to wear it to a work Christmas party. My job does not have one, at all, which is kind of nice because who really wants to do that? They give us catered lunch a few times a year, so that’s preferable in my opinion. She asked my husband if his new job had one, he told her yes, she asked why I wasn’t going to his work Christmas party, I told her I wasn’t invited. My husband tried to imply it was work-people only. My mother in law tried to push it for a minute, she told me it was implied spouse’s should go. I acted like I didn’t care either way because I wasn’t going to explain the actual situation, that my husband was hoping to go home with a coworker he wanted to have sex with. He did, but they didn’t end up having sex. But then that job is contingent on the school year, so instead of finding something lucrative, something related to his field a little, he ended up taking a landscaping job. And that’s what he did up until two weeks before this past Christmas. Since then, he hasn’t been working at all. Luckily his parents have been able to help us with the rent, and I’ve managed the other bills. But, when there’s 2 people and one income, and you have the debt that I do, it’s REALLY hard to keep up. I’ve been ordering whatever I can from Jet instead of shopping at a store (it’s cheaper). I pack my lunch 4 days a week, I only get coffee from a coffee shop on days i go in at 6am. BUT, I do spend a lot on weed. There’s no denying that. BUT, the fact remains, things could be relatively comfortable for us….if both of us are working. This whole constantly being broke but still working full time, sometimes on Saturdays too, it’s VERY demoralizing. It’s just hard, and yes sure I guess it shouldn’t be because I should count my blessings/not feel sorry for myself, but I literally don’t have anyone to talk to, that’s another item on this long ass list, and so here we are, with the complaining and the feeling sorry for myself. So it like kind of sucks, you know, I went to school with a bunch of kids a lot more privileged than me. It definitely gives you a perspective on what other people who are no different/any better than you getting a WAY luckier hand in life. I mean, also the shitty shitty crazy horrible to be around father and the depressive, disassociative mother and the douche older brother who alternately was really nice/a huge asshole but usually just the second one….they didn’t help this perspective. I’ve said before about how lonely I was. Well, in addition to being jealous of their stable, supportive, sane, normal parents, and their likewise siblings who didn’t constantly cause problems and trouble. AND they get all these material possessions, and get to go on these awesome, frequent vacations…while I’m…. I guess I shouldn’t look at someone who got something undeservedly and wish I had as well, or instead. But…I mean people born into wealth, and privilege, or even just financial stability and comfort….it’s all just random chance. It’s not like they actually DESERVE the money someone generations removed earned. But I’m getting off topic, I really don’t want to purge the wealthy because then I’d just become what I hate after I stole their wealth. But I’ve always had the stress cloud of money hanging over my head. And now I work really hard, and full time, like always, and I still don’t have anything to show for it. Just having existed. Just two degrees I don’t use. Just a husband who kind of doesn’t seem like he’s that into me anymore. Like this is another item on this list but our sex life is so depressing. And the RARE occasions he brings it up I just end up getting mad because boy does it sure seem to him like he’s the only one who is suffering, like I for some reason wouldn’t want a regular, good sex life with my husband. But mostly we just don’t talk about it. We’re too busy talking about money. When we talk. Which isn’t a lot. Especially lately. He’s descended into this depressed stupor about the fact that he’s had a few hot leads that went nowhere, that he’s applied to so many places and gotten such little feedback (my side chick experienced this as well only much worse, but with both of them I didn’t have the heart to point out it was their I’m-a-lazy-shitty-person work history) and he’s still unemployed, and he quit smoking weed so he could pass a drug test if need be so that’s depressing to have to do in an of itself. So he keeps weird hours. I see him for a few hours in the evening and I mean a few. Either he’s asleep when I get home, or he passes out right after we eat dinner, or both. So we’re poor, broke, all the time, I still have to work and possibly get yelled at every day, and he’s moody and unhappy and down about himself. He told me like 4 days this week he was too depressed to work out (We have a nice set of weights so it doesn’t cost anything). On Wednesday night, when he was saying good night to me, as he always does because I go to bed many hours before he does, he started getting pissed with me because I used to guilt him about going to Jiu Jitsu two or three times a week. I don’t feel like I was that bad I mean I didn’t act happy, but I never asked him not to go, or openly told him it was really upsetting for me. He’s just at the highest possible octave of high-strung when it comes to being sensitive about being guilted. Catholic mother, and all. But anyway, I hope this incredibly terrible paragraph has driven home the point that I very much have always been plagued by money troubles. Some my fault, some not. It’s wearing on me. I’m almost 29, I still live paycheck-day before paycheck. We had $9 in the only checking account we have when I deposited my paycheck today. There’s always so many bills. It’s all just so depressing and disheartening and discouraging after awhile. AND IT’S BEEN A LONG, LONG WHILE.

-Aside from the money troubles, like I said above, I don’t have anyone to talk to. I think I’ve explained why I can’t talk to my husband, especially in part because a lot of it is about him. I have 1 friend in the area I live in. We’ve been down here 5 years, but I don’t know, how does an adult make friends? My two sources have always been work and school, so if it doesn’t happen there…then…what? I know there are websites where you can find adult friends and it’s not sexual (there’s also so many more sites where it is sexual…I should know). But I’m over meeting people online for awhile. My work friend is a good friend, but we’re work friends. We never really hang out outside of work lunches and the occasional weekend activity. So to me that’s a more superficial friendship, BUT I do talk to her about some stuff. But she’s only at like level 5 clearance, there’s a lot more to get through before you hit the real me at most points. My only other real friend is my friend from the 8th grade/my MOH, whom I know I’ve mentioned at this point. But, as the years go on, it’s definitely more of a like…we see each other once a year or twice a year and exchange Christmas/birthday presents, but a lot of times we don’t really communicate that much. Especially like, I feel like someone can kind of imply they’re not into having a more…I don’t even know how to put it. Like I remember once, long ago, I’d say 4 or more years, my husband was very drunk, and very angry over something I’d done, well i guess more than one thing, that he thought was very cruel/wrong of me. And the ensuing fight/ordeal had me convinced we were going to break up. I called her about it. Now, the idea of calling a friend just because we were fighting, even terribly, it just wouldn’t happen. I guess distance came about between the two of us and neither bothered to change it. It just sucks when you’re like, there’s no one to really confide in, at least not about everything that’s bothering me.

-Another, and this is a big one, and just because it’s been happening a long time doesn’t mean