Fear And Self Loathing Not In Las Vegas

STILL trying to make ends meet.

It’s been almost 3 weeks since I actually used my laptop to post. I am using the hotspot feature on my phone so every minute ticks by like a cash register reminding me the time I use, the time I lose, and have to pay to replace. Grrr. Like counting every drop of water we use isn’t stressful enough. That bill, before we use a drop of water, is $65 a month. It’s hysterical in a not funny at all way that living in Armpit, USA, actually triples our monthly costs. I never wanted this. I spent nine years living within my means, never going over unless it was unexpected or pet related. Now I am behind before I even start. It’s been over 2 weeks and I still can’t afford the $63 to start trash service. I have two powerbills to pay now, cos I have to cover the old place as well as this new place. Forget internet service. Which is driving me and my kid nuts.

But I am still asking for donations. Like not being successful has ever stopped me in life. And it’s laughable, raising ten bucks in a month. I must be a really awful person if I can’t even motivate people to throw in a fiver for my kid or cats.

While asking for donations…I get a comment commiserating but asking what work I do…And the self loathing and shame kick in and ya know what? That should never happen for someone who has a legitimate disabiility. Society is the one who has deemed mental disabilities less worthy than physical ones. It also perpetuates the myth that you can only be a valid member of society if you have a job.

My goal through the entire last 7 years has been ONE measly year of medication stability so when an employer asks, “are you stable and reliable?” I could say honestly YES. It hasn’t happened and that is to my own chagrin. I have tried, pushed myself, pushed myself harder, dealt with utterly wretched people who gave zero fucks about me or my and my child’s well being…

And it means nothing to the world. I have no job, I don’t matter. And worse, I have the audacity to ask for donations, again, only for people who have jobs or physical ailments.

Maybe having no consistent internet access will be good for me. I have obviously become too invested in what others think of me, others who don’t know me, don’t know how hard I try, and don’t care. But I think I am so invested because more than anything I WANT to work. I want to be able to stand on my own and support my child and my own mind simply won’t cooperate. It hurts. And it’s why I’m not too proud to asking for donations. I tried working, I lasted 4 months with the situation with R, I pushed myself until I melted down and wanted to die. I’m not asking for handouts to buy a big plasma TV. I am asking because I have made every effort to help myself and get better, but right now…I need help. I need help not simply for myself but because I have an 8 year old counting on me and this move doubled our expenses. With child support I can eventually handle the monthly expenses but I need help getting caught up.

We have no closets, so dad bought us wardrobe cabinets. The freezer didn’t work so dad bought us one of those. My car keeled over, so he bought me a 2001 Lumina. I owe the power company $500 between the two residences. I still owe the landlord $325 toward deposit and that is something that could get us thrown out if I don’t come up with. I now use four times as much gas in the car since we have to drive 18 miles just to get ‘to town’ let alone the grocery store.

Hate my whining? You’ll never hate it as much as me.

I was content being trailer park trash because I knew I could afford it and wouldn’t get in over my head or need to beg for help. When the scumlord sold out and it became ‘buy in or get out’, I was thrust into a position I did not choose so again…asking for help ain’t easy but it’s legit. Nothing I did wrong got us here. We simply got screwed over by a very corrupt liar.

And now my new doctor…I truly do feel doomed. I had to have my lithium level done today and the lab couldn’t even decipher if it was supposed to be before my meds or 12 hours after or fasting, and I asked the doc and she said yes to fasting and 12 hours but I don’t think she was listening at all. I think the level will come back wonky and I will have to do it again and it will be because she was too busy complaining about Dr. B leaving them shortstaffed as opposed to treating me.

I keep soul searching for what I did wrong, how I am viewing it wrong but…something is more off about this woman than the doc nurse. Takes some doing. Maybe by expressing how sad I was to see Dr. B go to new doc I sealed my fate. I wonder if I had castigated him for his abrupt departure if new doc would have given me more time and listened.

We can delude ourselves all we want with the whole professional detachment thing. Shrinks are still humans, still have feelings and biases and sometimes, they just don’t like the patient or take time to even try. And I don’t give a damn if my cashier at the gas station likes me or not but then, that cashier isn’t going to be the one handling my disability claim thus necessitating some sort of knowledge and bond.

New doc is just…not connecting. Maybe if she’d spent the 30 minutes with me instead of 7 minutes cos she was running behind schedule…

But the ending of that story is always the same. I have mental issues, I am in the wrong, the professionals are always right and the truth, which lies somewhere in between, is irrelevant.

Click that picture if you can help us. Please.

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2 Responses to “Fear And Self Loathing Not In Las Vegas”

  1. Hey – your donation link isn’t working anymore:-(

    • Thanks for letting me know. Using a phone for internet tasks is not my forte, I messed it all up. But with no home wifi, I am working with what I’ve got. Link is fixed now. I hope, just gonna put it in a new post. If I try to use the phone to correct the other links,I’ll probably hack a government database by accident cos I’m a computer person, not a phone person.

      On Fri, Mar 16, 2018 at 7:49 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

      >

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