oh how i wish it was actual untrue bullshit. i talked to another ‘lovely’ creditor the other day. i meant to ask him if he was hired because of his sadistic behavior or if his sadistic behavior was a skill learned on the job. he did his job well. i wonder if he was a loner bullied in school. he told me i had to ask for loans from friends and family. i’m like, well, my parents don’t work and have lots of expenses, so that won’t work. he insisted i borrow from someone. i asked him if i could borrow from him, since he was so concerned, but he made it clear he is neither a friend nor family. i asked him if would prefer that i not pay any medical bills and then i can end up in a hospital and never ever pay. he told me to pawn stuff. he said surely i had something i could pawn to get some money. these are really lovely people. it’s from a particular company only that these folks with their assholic personalities call. a lot. over a dozen times a day. every other creditor i talk to are at least nice, whether they mean it or not. goes a long way.
so the shitty creditor guy totally screamed at me the whole time. i told him that since his company got a nice bailout as they were about to go bankrupt, that as soon as i got mine i’d be happy to pay him. that kinda pissed him off. he really started yelling then. the last time i sent a payment i sent what i could. it wasn’t a joke to me. it was the only bit i could afford. the company showed its appreciation with fees and more fees and a raised interest rate (which makes it impossible to ever pay anything off) and then the phone calls. and this jerk on the phone was very condescending about that payment. i told him, well, you just made fun of me paying what i could pay. and then he started yelling that he had not made fun of me. i told him he had. more yelling. and then i hung up. why pick up the phone in the first place? dozens of calls every day from banks and collection agencies. from 8am to 8:59pm. sometimes in 10-minute intervals. designed to drive you crazy. well, it’s not like i have anyone else to talk to…
this last guy freaked me out though b/c he started in with the fear and the threats. how the company would see me and then everything would be due at once (thousands of dollars) without any option. i keep asking these people how they expect me to pay when i have no money. they don’t give a shit. i get that it’s their job and everyone needs a job, especially nowadays. but wow, to get paid to scare and threaten and insult people over and over again, every day, monday to sunday, and to like that sort of work…
so i guess it’s time to get a lawyer. i don’t like lawyers. they freak me out. i haven’t had the best experience with them. just one. my last bankruptcy lawyer. that time was b/c i decided to travel and spend and fuck it, i knew i wouldn’t pay. this time i was dealing with some heavy shit the only way i knew how to cope. and when i got to the point where ok, grow up, take responsibility, i crunched the numbers and it became very, very clear, frightenly so, that i simply cannot afford to make the payments asked of me.
it’s not an excuse. however, i did move and had no furniture or pots and pans or anything. it took me months to find a job when i was looking (and i didn’t work for like 2 years before that when i was ‘ill’… whatever bullshit someone, most people, would think that is). my food, my everything came from credit cards. and then when i found a job, even before my first day, my landlord stole my stuff. i lost stuff. i lost my deposit. i had to put down another deposit. i had to move right away (do you want to live in the apt next to the guy who broke into your place and took your stuff?). that meant movers. and storage. and movers. and a new apt that is $100 a month more than the last place, which was a shit hole (i have ptsd when it comes to apt. hunting – still reeling from 2000 in SF and the East Bay and how i had to stay on couches and mostly in shitty motels b/c i had no place to live and the money was running out and i finally got a place and didn’t even care what it was like, just as long as i had shelter.)
yeah, i fucked up. my ‘mental illness’ (that sounds way too dramatic)… my “mental condition” had a lot to do with it. but the only thing i can blame is ME. i did this. i fucked up. yeah, i was dealing with very heavy life/death (literally) shit. and then i got to the point where, much to my surprise, i started to pull myself together. i believed i could get a job that i was actually qualified for, not overqualified office work, and now i get to be a writer. and, here’s the thing i have never ever said before, i truly love my job.
i got a dog. she needed rescuing and i know i do, too. i had to give her a home. this has cost a lot because i take very good care of her. she gets food and treats and preventative medicine and trips to the vet. she is going to the vet next saturday. if they find something wrong (and they might), who knows where that will put us. my solution so far? i’ve been wanting to visit Disney World for the last couple of years. I have 2 days off coming up. i was going to go to Disney and Universal and stay one day overnight. then i switched that to just Disney. and then i switched that to driving up early in the morning and driving back late at night, no matter how ridiculously exhaustive that would be. And now, no Disney. It was the one thing I wanted, the one “vacation.” A long way off to my favorite escapes to Dublin. But hey, something. But I can’t afford it. The ticket is super expensive. And well, i am so stressed out and depressed, that it might actually backfire on me and be a miserable trip and then i would hate that i spent the money to go.
for the past week the ‘psychosomatic’ skin stuff thanks to stress seems to have gone away. i’m pretty sure it will be back. did i mention that the same thing happened to my mom a number of years ago? it took many mentions from me for her to say, yeah that happened to me. WTF, WOMAN? at least i ain’t crazy or imagining this.
i have been much better at not spending. no frequent trips to Starbux. no boots to replace the ones that broke at the sole, even with my coupon. no christmas gifts for anyone. thanksgiving turkey from a ziploc bag of leftovers from our work lunch. my one indulgence? seeing Twilight. 3x. but it’s not like i go to the movies anymore. pretty much i want to see Milk if it every plays here and that’s it. in SF i used to go to the movies every Saturday or so. matinee. brought my own soda. affordable.
i don’t go anywhere here. just a homebody. seriously don’t leave the house except to walk the dog. just stay here bored and fat, just falling asleep a lot. it’s a pretty miserable life. and for someone who abhors loneliness and sees it not only as painful but also as a huge failure, well, here i am in painful failure.
should i be more positive? of course. but i don’t have the energy right now. i’ve not just stumbled, i’ve really fallen on my face and i’m terrified to lift my head and look up.
lost. depressed. it’s not pretty. i’m not pretty. if i ever was, won’t ever be so again. i see it in the mirror, the fear and the stress and the sadness. i look defeated. i guess i am. i’m not being pessimistic. i started the year as optimistic as i have ever been, ready to get my act together, confident even. i’m not being a pessimist now. i’m being a realist. i fucked up. numbers don’t lie, either on bills or bank accounts or on the scale or on the labels of pants that don’t fit me. i’ve dug myself quite a deep hole. one made of concrete. cause this is not just about emotional health or mental competency. this is real. real mess. scary mess. might end up without a job or home mess. i live paycheck to paycheck. any “emergency” or unexpected expense is near catastrophic.
this shit ain’t right. it is what it is. and so i stay home. i stay fat. i put on a smile and go to work and people are nice to me there. i think i actually like going to the office b/c at least there are people and just about everyone has a wicked sense of humor, so i totally fit in. and then i come home and walk the dog and feed her and then i sit on the couch and don’t know…anything. what to do. who to be. how to fix things. how to just be ok. i usually end up falling asleep on that couch in the middle of a tv show or something, which embarrasses and pisses me off.
how do i even begin to make things right? or even bearable? while it was one of the most honest and amazing moments of my life, when i actually felt and screamed out “I WANT TO LIVE,” it’s so bittersweet b/c i just feel this huge force on me, holding me down, pushing me down, crushing me often. sometimes i do think it’d be much, much better to be dead. not b/c i want to die. not to even get rid of heartache and pain. but honestly, because it would be so much cheaper. and that makes it easier. what a stupid reason. what a horrible thing to often feel that’s the only way to get out of this. what a horrible thing to realize that i’m probably right.
i am ashamed. i am embarrased. i have made myself as unlovable as possible, with all this extra weight, and my skin looks like shit, and i’m just a sad homebody. but even if i wasn’t, even if by some miracle (literally) someone would even be remotely intersted in me to go on a date (which is hard since i never meet anyone anyway), i’d have to say no. no one wants to get involved with this kind of mess. i’m not good for anyone’s life… quite the deficit not the asset.
this is a really shitty way to live. and i’m closer to 40 than to 30 and i don’t care what bullshit anyone says, this is pretty much it. being a fuckup at this age, well, there’s not much hope of an out.
this is not a pity post. this is not a pessimist post. this is true remorse and fear. this is excruciating embarrassment. this is what it is… and what it is, is not good.
help. god, universe, jesus, whomever… help.
