Thursday, June 03, 2004
Have you ever wanted to just erase yourself from history? I give up. Being Sassy SUCKS. For every little high I'm allowed to savor, I get 3 things loaded onto my back. I'm tired. I'm tired of being me--tired of waking up in the morning, tired of meeting obligation after obligation, tired of seeing to it that everyone who depends on me is OK, tired of taking care of people, tired of constantly feeling unsatisfied or stressed, tired of crawling into bed at the end of the day wishing I could just make the world go away for a few hours only to find myself awakened several times throughout the night by someone or something that needs me yet again.
Here I thought I was so damned close to freedom... today I completed my obligations for my only academic class. Just a couple more weeks of my internship. And then I could turn my energy toward my "real" job, make a little money and get Shitfoot the fuck out of my house, and begin a REAL life. So damned close, and now I can just kiss it all goodbye. Today I'm no better than he is: jobless. At least he has some freelance work. I'm totally screwed. Part of me wanted to argue with Chef when he "let me go"... I wanted to point out how hard things have been for me, that I've been clinging to scraps of sanity for months now, and the light at the tunnel is so close, just give me a couple weeks. But his mind was made up, and the last thing I wanted was to cry like a fucking baby in his office, which is about the least private place in the whole freaking kitchen. He doesn't give a shit about my personal life, and why should he? I just wish I'd had some clue that they weren't happy. Sure, in retrospect, I can see a few signs I should have recognized, but at the time, I didn't realize how serious it was. I never got negative feedback. I was never told I was doing a bad job or that I had even done anything wrong. If I had, I could have changed what I was doing. Instead I'm about 8 weeks from homeless and no idea how I'm going to feed my kids after my leftover meal tickets from school run out. You'd think applying for food stamps nearly 3 weeks ago would have netted a result or 2 by now, but still nothing. It's no wonder people end up homeless.
It occurred to me as I braced myself to go to class this morning (I have to work in the kitchen next to where my now-former supervisor's husband works), I could arrange for the kids to go to their grandma's house on Monday, and go buy a handgun on the last of my credit this afternoon. The waiting period would be over in time for me to blow my useless fucking brains out while they were at Grandma's and force Shitfoot to deal with the fucking mess.
I do not enjoy having such dark thoughts. I can't say I've ever had them in such detail. Never had a plan before. I don't write this for sympathy (what fucking good would that do anyway?). The last thing I need is for one more person to tell me to just "hang in there". I'm sick to fucking death of "hanging in there". My whole fucking life has been mere survival for months and months now, and I just can't function like that anymore. "Hang in there" doesn't fix anything. Want to tell me you care? Great, just one more person I can let down by failing yet again. I wish people "caring" could fix my problems, but it only adds to the guilt.
Now I have to suck it up and go spend the last of my dignity trying to get unemployment and food stamps. An afternoon of bureaucracy before heading off to my internship this evening ought to be just the thing to convince me life is worth living, right?
Here I thought I was so damned close to freedom... today I completed my obligations for my only academic class. Just a couple more weeks of my internship. And then I could turn my energy toward my "real" job, make a little money and get Shitfoot the fuck out of my house, and begin a REAL life. So damned close, and now I can just kiss it all goodbye. Today I'm no better than he is: jobless. At least he has some freelance work. I'm totally screwed. Part of me wanted to argue with Chef when he "let me go"... I wanted to point out how hard things have been for me, that I've been clinging to scraps of sanity for months now, and the light at the tunnel is so close, just give me a couple weeks. But his mind was made up, and the last thing I wanted was to cry like a fucking baby in his office, which is about the least private place in the whole freaking kitchen. He doesn't give a shit about my personal life, and why should he? I just wish I'd had some clue that they weren't happy. Sure, in retrospect, I can see a few signs I should have recognized, but at the time, I didn't realize how serious it was. I never got negative feedback. I was never told I was doing a bad job or that I had even done anything wrong. If I had, I could have changed what I was doing. Instead I'm about 8 weeks from homeless and no idea how I'm going to feed my kids after my leftover meal tickets from school run out. You'd think applying for food stamps nearly 3 weeks ago would have netted a result or 2 by now, but still nothing. It's no wonder people end up homeless.
It occurred to me as I braced myself to go to class this morning (I have to work in the kitchen next to where my now-former supervisor's husband works), I could arrange for the kids to go to their grandma's house on Monday, and go buy a handgun on the last of my credit this afternoon. The waiting period would be over in time for me to blow my useless fucking brains out while they were at Grandma's and force Shitfoot to deal with the fucking mess.
I do not enjoy having such dark thoughts. I can't say I've ever had them in such detail. Never had a plan before. I don't write this for sympathy (what fucking good would that do anyway?). The last thing I need is for one more person to tell me to just "hang in there". I'm sick to fucking death of "hanging in there". My whole fucking life has been mere survival for months and months now, and I just can't function like that anymore. "Hang in there" doesn't fix anything. Want to tell me you care? Great, just one more person I can let down by failing yet again. I wish people "caring" could fix my problems, but it only adds to the guilt.
Now I have to suck it up and go spend the last of my dignity trying to get unemployment and food stamps. An afternoon of bureaucracy before heading off to my internship this evening ought to be just the thing to convince me life is worth living, right?
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