Just A Boring Rant.....
Let's see...I really hate to just sit and bitch, but I need to get some things off of my chest. How has my week been?? Well, for starters, my couch is broke...and this sucks. People have been trying to be nice~"Hey, I know where you can get a decent used couch for a hundred bucks." Yeah-like I have a hundred dollars for a couch. HA !! I've been driving around for three days with my oil light blinking...not because I'm too stupid to add more, but because I didn't have two bucks for a quart of oil!!! I actually swallowed my stupid pride today at work and asked a few people if they had a spare quart in their cars, and they all looked at me like I was stupid. Is it only me that tries to carry extra oil???Okay, I tangented there. Anyway, then my allergies have been making me thoroughly miserable this month~runny nose, headaches, irritability...ALLERGIES-NOT PMS!! My allergist said two days ago that this was the end of the line-I need surgery. Yeah-yippe~actually, at this point I would be thrilled if they cut off my head if it would go away. But my allergist needs to send a note to my primary care provider, who then needs to send a referral to another doctor, and so on ad nauseum. By the time they get around to it, I will have lost my job anyway due to the work I've missed because I can't breathe or talk or shit due to this unending crap. This afternoon I let my daughter go home with a friend while I worked, remembering when I got back to work that she had an appointment with her therapist. I called the mom to let her know to have her ready to go and she mentioned that Shelby had a rash. I just figured it may have been heat rash because she helps to load students afterschool. On the way to pick her up, I notice that the car is pretty much on "E" and the damn oil light is blinking. I have approximately $1.65 in the bank. I get to the neighbor's house and observe that Shelby has this lacy-like rash all over her arms and legs. I'm not an idiot-I immediately ask her if she's ate something different or rolled around in the bushes..."No. No." We run to the nearest local Urgent Care where we were informed she has "Fifth Disease." Sounds ominous, but it's actually just a viral rash, caused by a parvovirus~in the same family as the parvo viruses that dogs and cats are vaccinated against. Not the very same virus, but same family. Nothing you can do about it...it's pretty much like a cold. You just wait it out. Mildly contagious, but before the rash appears. Can't wait to see if I get that one!! On the bright side, ~60 percent of adults have already been exposed to this virus growing up and will not be affected by it. with my luck, I'll be in the 40th percentile that has not been exposed. Asked them to write a note because the way this stuff looks-they'd think I was sending her to school with some strange hemmorhagic fever.I digress once more....Shelby's caring father is three and a half weeks late with child support. I call and leave a very pleasant, practically begging message to please send at least 50 bucks so we can get gas and food. He's caring enough to call back, give her some bullshit lines, then give me a 20 minute lecture about how he pays every week and it's not his fault I'm not getting it. Is this the point???? No~I think food and gas are the point.So, haha, by the time we get to her therapist, I walk in....and I cry. I bawl. I haven't cried in probably two years. Our therapist (and I say "our" now because Shelby and I have known her about two years and we both talk to her) let me cry. Then she informed me that it was perfectly legit to cry because I had too much on my plate right now, and that no one can do things alone. Which I do everyday because we have no family and very few friends. So, of course, I proceed to cry some more~once I started, I just couldn't stop!! Damn those stupid female hormones! Anyway, she had me break my problems down, MADE me borrow some money (what kind of therapist does this??) and generally allowed to me to vent. This woman is extraordinary~patience of a saint and pretty much the only person I tell our problems to because I don't like to burden my few friends-they have enough troubles. Then she says she has something to tell us-her husband is being relocated to another part of the state for his job and she's leaving at the end of the month. And then she cries!! I laugh and say"You're not supposed to cry." And then of course her crying makes me cry again. Now we're all unhappy, but now somehow less burdened with the weights of life because I don't know about you~but crying makes me tired and a bit more relaxed once I'm through. I mean, I know that it causes your body to release messenger chemicals...blah, blah, blah. But I hate it! I'm not supposed to cry!! I am the adult and I'm supposed to make sure everything is A-Okay. But I could analyze this forever...let's just say that after a harrowing day,....I feel better and this wonderful woman came to the rescue of a family she has no ties to. Funny how help can come from the oddest places~and I'm so thankful for that. I was feeling so badly about not being able to provide and be everthing I want and need to be to my daughter~I just wanted to literally be absorbed by the environment. Or die~whatever is more melodic to you. I have pretty much had the ephipany that this is why I don't make more friends. I am damaged goods somehow...although I do my best to make ends meet and be a loving parent, I can't do it all. But it is nobody else's responsibility but my own. I don't want to burden other people with my problems-I would rather uplift instead of bring down. And I definitely don't want a man to see that I'm insufficient. They would just think that if I can't handle my own life, then I must be looking for someone to rescue us. All I really want is someone to give a shit-about Shelby and I as people-not as charity cases or because they feel bad about our situation. But because they just genuinely like who we are. Unfortunately, this is who we are. (haha) I can't handle everything. I can't pay all of the bills unless her father pays what he's supposed to-which he never does. I keep hoping for the day where I will make enough money so that his paltry assistance-or lack thereof-won't cause me to falter. I know I'll get there. It's just days like this that I'm glad at least one person is willing to take the time to listen-even if she is paid to do so~it rescued us this day. Now we live to fight through another calamity.*I am now Mel Gibson, laying on the alter in Braveheart. I do not give up although they are killing me. I just yell out "Freedom!!"*
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