My situation has not improved since last I wrote. Other than the fact that I am THAT much more tired of hearing the voices in my head. They don't ever shut up, either ... not ever. When I lay down to "sleep" at night, it's like being in a crowded bus terminal. Each voice pulling at another thread of yuck that I REALLY want to hide from. Then, the thread grabs and a massive rat's nest of fire ants and black wasps falls out.
That's always fun.
I have gotten what the doctor at the local clinic thinks is a viral infection in my face. It's in my jaw, ear and eye. It friggen hurts, too. She gave me some anti-inflammatory medication, but it makes me uber sick to my stomach. I have also managed to liquefy my insides. No kidding. I'm pretty sure THAT little treat is a direct result of stress. 'Cause let me tell ya ... I IS STRESSED.
Stretch's birthday has come and gone. She had her sleep over this past weekend. It kinda sucked. The kid she invited is a bit of a tool. Shorty had a friend, too ... and of course, stole the show. She can't really help herself. She likes more common activities ... unlike my Stretch. I feel as though she has gotten royally screwed. I have promised her a "Mommy and Stretch Day" (which has been postponed twice already - due to my gross lack of funds). We are going to pull her out of school and she and I will go to lunch and then shopping to spend her birthday money (which I have already spent on food).
Just as soon as I can recoup that money ... we'll go. sigh
...fill the shovel, pile it up ... fill the shovel, pile it up ...
If given the choice, I would still take this over an illness ... especially if it involved my kids ... but this is SO OLD. Actually ... THIS right HERE isn't old ... it's new ... and just about the scariest financial obstacle I have ever faced. Like ... I really don't have a viable plan here. Considering what we have come through - that statement of fact should carry a bit of a wallop.
Maybe I shouldn't say that. I do have plans. I am trying to start a business. It has some merit, the business. I believe I would enjoy doing it ... I believe people would pay for the service ... I just need for it to be wildly successful ... immediately. Not a tall order at all - right? If I could get my paws on four or five grand, I'd be laughing. (Well ... I could breathe, at least.) That would get us through the winter and get things up and running.
Imagine ... such a paltry sum ... and I am miserable ... killing myself from the inside out. It makes me want to punch myself.
As it is, all I seem to be capable of doing IS punching myself (so to speak). I am wallowing ... in self loathing, self pity and fear. I smell like fear. Fear stinks, btw. It smells like stale girl sweat. It's grody. Maybe that is only because I have been using the old, ineffective deodorant - fished from the bowels of the bathroom closet. No ... I'm sticking with the fear concept. It is more dramatic.
...drama is my middle name. Danica Drama Dragonfly. Has a nice ring to it, no? I think I would prefer a little boredom though. Can I wish for boredom? Gawd knows everyone else MUST be getting bored of this crazy train by now.
I NEED to find my positive. I NEED to locate that feisty little bitch that never says die ... that never gives up ... that has survived lots of other crap and always managed to come out ... well ... perhaps not "on top" per se ... but firmly in the middle.
I'm okay with that existence. I have spent a great deal of time railing against mediocrity ... but I'd trade my eye teeth for some of that right about now. Just being able to buy a full load of groceries would change my attitude a great deal, really. OH MY GAWD!!! SHUT UP ALREADY!!!
Okay ... I am going. Me and my infernal belly aching. ACK!