I Don’t Get Life

Suffice it to say, I fared okay yesterday with the mandatory dish chores. (Ha, no, not dishes, those are still piling up, I mean dealing with stuff outside my bubble.) It helped immensely that for the first time in days it was sunny and in the upper thirties, which is a heatwave this time of year. I am getting giddy for spring already, simply because I can feel my energy and motivation ebb and flow with the flip flopping gloom/sun/snow/rain/cold day after day. Some consistency and warmth sounds delicious.

Today…It’s 14 degrees, gray, and I am not feeling the will to do a damned thing. That was before my phone ever rang, btw. The child support thing is tomorrow and that’s got me ten kinds of anxious and panicky even though I keep spewing sunshine at myself with platitudes like, “It won’t take long, it will be done so fast, you’ll wonder why you were anxious at all.” Ha! It’s not called an anxiety disorder because it can be reasoned with, for fuck’s sake.

I am watching my cigarette supply dwindle quickly, making me more nervous. Such a frivolous thing and yet…I swear it helps me keep sane and not simply from a nicotine addicted stance.  Being so high strung and fidgety, I’ve found when I don’t have cigarettes, I idly scratch myself with my own nails, over and over, as if my hands must have something to do. Seems to me smoking is only slightly worse than carving into my own flesh with nails so deep I get sepsis…

I wrote a few more pages last night but once the cold settled in me (my desk is right by the window which is so old and broken it doesn’t seal right, NONE of them do) before retreating to fort blankie. I want to proceed but the anxiety is just making me too distracted to enjoy any writing I may accomplish. When I am in my fictional world, I need to be all in. Until tomorrow’s hearing is over, I can’t be all in. And it sucks because if you don’t write when the streak is there…You block.

Life…I got a call from stepmom this morning (all I could think is, oh, fuck, tell me it’s not the school saying my kid has lice again)…And one of my brother’s best friends was killed in a car accident last night. This 20 year old girl who took him shopping last month for my kid’s Christmas gift and bam, she’s dead.

It makes zero sense. Seriously.

“Here’s Jenny Smith…She’s gotten straight As,  has three degrees, loves animals and kids, and oh, oops…She was only meant to live to age 2o, so sad her family put all that time and effort in and loved her so much so she could expire by this date.”

I don’t mean it cruelly, either. I mean, this is how my brain views death. People who die in their seventies, I think they got a good run. But infants, toddlers, little kids, people in their teens, twenties…Not even a start at life and it’s over.

I like to think of it all as random twists of fate. No way of knowing that on this night this girl was going to be driving and crash and die at such a young age.

Yet society and its religious regurgitation insists, “God has a reason for everything.”


There is NO reason for war, child abuse, famine, and yes, death of young people or people who have struggled to get on their feet only to get taken out…

Fuck you, Grim Reaper. You make all this struggle seem so useless, futile. Hell, what age is my death determined to be? Am I doing all of this for shits and giggles? I survive all this and then the day after my life starts going right, bam. I’m dead.

Yes, it’s depressing and jaded and maybe my view offends, I don’t know or care. This is reality.

Sad thing is, as futile as it is, I keep going. Even when I do a week’s worth of laundry and realize I find it so hard to trudge through this depression that I didn’t even wear a bra once in seven days…

I am hobbling on the hamster wheel here. I keep it turning but it turns slow on some days and fast on others and I just want off. OFF.

Now that I have brightened everyone’s day with my positive attitude…

I’m gonna smoke another cigarette, and have a discussion with Feet about why him trying to rub my back with his claws is not pleasant.

Yes, I talk to my cats.

They’re better conversationalists than the local rednecks, at least.


12 Responses to “I Don’t Get Life”

  1. Great post! Finger, toes and eyes crossed tomorrow is a success!

  2. Thinking of you for everything you are going to deal with tomorrow. You’ve got yourself bookended with good people and that will help some.

    I’ve been wearing the same clothes for a week. Kicker is that I do change my underwear but then I just put the same clothes back on.

  3. Best of luck for tomorrow. And man… I miss smoking a loooot sometimes. So good for shutting up anxiety. ><

  4. I’m praying SO hard for you right now. I hope you get everything you should, and then everything you need, and then some.

  5. Good luck tomorrow!

    Even as someone who believes in God, it pisses me off to no end when someone tells me it’s “God’s Will” or “Maybe they had to go so soon because there was something coming up down the road that would have been worse.” … man … fuck you. My uncle died in a car accident in June … he was only 45. He was about to be a first-time grandfather …. AND he beat cancer in the 90’s … leukemia. How the hell do you beat that kind of thing and then get killed by a 17 year old that can’t check their blind spot?

    Sorry. Even as a believer in the afterlife … sometimes things can just simply kiss my fat ass.

    • “Verily,” (sorry, just cracking on all the canned “spiritual” answer-givers) I have grown to intensely hate the trite-isms and the irritating standard responses almost every Christ follower wants to offer me when shit goes to shit. Death, sickness, hunger and her old old man all suck. I don’t think it’s “meant to be,” I think it just fucking “is,” and it sucks, and we’re supposed to do our best to fight against it and work to make things right. My mum swears that all the shit would hit the fan at the same time if God didn’t limit how much shit exploded out of Hell’s Crapper on any given day (she says it without swearing) and cites a delightfully twisted impression of Matthew 6:34. which is probably why when I read the Bible I read it half twisted. I’m easily bored with the ordinary texts, the typical responses to spiritual questions. If I hear another person quote me another one of those danmed “go-to” bible verses that answer NOTHING, I may break a commandment. I’m studying it and I’m not going to offer a “go-to” verse, but I can pray. Sometimes God hears when I pray for others, not so much when I’m praying for myself. I think He’s sick of me whining. I’m rereading it this year with an eye for anything humorous, or anything practical. I’m sure it’s in there. I’m digging. And praying.

  6. *lights up and sits quietly next to you*

  7. Good luck for tomorrow… hope your cigs last til then.
    Pets offer more intelligent conversation than most people irl. They have a way of responding that doesn’t need words.

  8. I agree with Stephen Fry when he says if there is a God then he is “utterly evil, capricious and monstrous”. Because fuck this cruel world.

  9. Good luck tomorrow and I talk and sing to my cat. She is not impressed. She gives me a look.

  10. Great luck tomorrow. Thinking n routing for ya!

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