2/18/2022

So how do I feel today? My life and health can sum it up, shitty… Really shitty…

I woke up in pain. The kind of pain where you just don’t want to get out of bed, but it hurts too much to stay. The first step after I forced myself out of bed was incredibly unsteady. My knees didn’t want to support my body and I fell. My neck is a ball of tense pain and I can’t lift it to see straight without the piercing pain that travels down into my shoulders. When I do get back up, my back is so stiff I have to waddle hunched over, gingerly placing each step while steadying myself on the wall. I’m almost 51, but I feel well into my 90’s.

Needless to say, my emotions feel as bad as my body.  The body pain is like being hit by a semi and the mental anguish is like stepping in the road constantly on purpose.

It’s not like I enjoy this or that I even want this, it just seems to be what it is. Everything feels like it’s caving in on me. I can’t get ahead financially and the bills are piling up. I can’t get a consolidation loan because my credit was wrecked with the divorce. The IRS claims that my $2500 refund is now a $300 debt and even though they say an explanation was sent on the 14th it’s yet to arrive. I triple check everything, claimed everything and somehow their voodoo math screwed me. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was the lifeline I needed, and that like everything else “blew up” in my face.

I still stress about people who have blatantly walked from my life without explanation and have never looked back. I still feel horrendous hurt and loss for these selfish, uncaring, lying ass-hats. They wouldn’t spit on me if I was on fire and yet I need their approval, apologies, and answers to feel whole for some reason.

I make it to what can be considered a kitchen in my way over-priced shit apartment and struggle to make coffee. I absentmindedly check my cell knowing nothing will be there. No calls or messages, no answers. I make the usual bland easy breakfast not wanting to stand anymore. I make it to my chair spilling a quarter of the coffee, as usual, on the floor. I eat and drink while the typical bull shit plays on the television news. It all fills me with more depressing thoughts that pile up on my already-mile-high mountain of emotional shit. I’ve gone past the point of caring to want to make the change. Although I am not suicidal, I don’t want to live anymore. I selfishly want someone to come and help me, not for the rest of my life or even like hospice care, just a little bit of time. Someone to cry with, someone who can just do for me a couple of days so I can be a lifeless lump, and someone who will finally acknowledge the hurt, pain, and damage the last 3 years have caused me.

A lot to ask for, I know. I am just in the grips of depression and tired of fighting my BPD feelings. I can’t afford my therapist right now, but honestly, I never felt as though it was helping me anyway. Why can’t I be that random person some philanthropist happens to help? Why can’t I have that story of when I helped the person with their groceries or cross a street, they are so appreciative they send me a gift or the waiter that gets a $1000 tip on a $50 check?

Money won’t buy happiness, but being out of debt would sure go a long way with helping me be focused on the other issues that plaque me.