Sassy's Up Late Again

I am so fucking agitated. I crashed hard yesterday from the weight of it all, but still, I am so FUCKING agitated. That's my mood--no gray areas here: everything everyone does or says, doesn't do or say, everything I see or don't see AGITATES THE FUCK OUT OF ME. And I am trying so hard to keep it together--no need to holler at my family just because I'm the stupid loser to shook up everyone's lives to get that job only to get dumped the first time it's inconvenient. I'm the idiot who believed the starry-eyed promises they made, I'm the moron who didn't see the writing on the wall fast enough to get out before they pushed me out. And it fucking hurts. Nobody seems to get that. They say they do, but I really don't think they do. "Oh you did nothing wrong, Sassy." Bullshit: the thing I did wrong was take the job in the first place. Or maybe it was when I didn't demand more early on, or give in and work more hours, or do something else in the kitchen that made me more indispensable, or when I trusted them and didn't immediately go on a job hunt after "the talk" a couple weeks ago. I did a lot of things wrong. And now I'm the loser out of a job, the unemployed single mom, the irresponsible bitch who drug her kids 70 miles away from their father for a job and a man. I thought they were both a sure thing, but hey, how much longer before I lose the man, too? We're already butting heads about where else it's acceptable to look for work--my best chances are probably back "home". Which is two hours away from Rusty's daughter. Sure, there's some more responsibility I'm just dying to take on. Let me be the bitch that took him away from his little girl. It's getting to be such a maze of impossible choices. I'd die before I took him away from her. I'd die before I took my kids away from their dad further north. I'd die if I have to take some job as Junior Toilet Scrubber just to keep the bills paid and stay here in this crap town up to my waist in public humiliation. And I'd die if I lost Rusty over all this, too.

And so I'm agitated. I can't start my Paxil because I probably *really would* die if I have to go through withdrawal again. I've been busting my ass for 3 days now trying to figure out how to get more next month before I start it again. God only knows if I will ever have health insurance again. Rusty slyly mentioned that if I married him both me and the children would be covered. I love him for trying, but I don't want to get married for the health insurance. And I'm agitated.

Rusty is busting his nuts trying to cheer me up, which naturally only agitates me even more. God love him, I know it's hard to live with me in this state, and if I could just make the conscious choice to be OK, then I'd damned well be OK. But not a minute goes by when I don't feel like a fool, and I can't be OK with that. The best I can manage right now is to not be a screaming lunatic. I'm working on the rest, but it just can't come from outside of me. I know it's all in my head, and that's where it's got to get fixed. I'm working on it as best I can.