STILL...
UP.
Oh... Mona, Mona, Mona.
I'm pretty drained and looking a bit disheveled, but I have certainly used my time wisely. I've been on the phone with my cell phone company, mortgage company, electric company, gas company, unemployment office, the local college, my assistance case worker... all in the name of survival! I'm swallowing my pride and applying for any and all types of assistance available to me, in preparation for a long, hard, winter. And, the worse case scenario: no job, and no unemployment benefits at the beginning of frosty February.
I pray to God I don't get to that point.
I'm hoping that all of this ground work will take a bit of the edge off of the financial fear that often keeps me awake at night. Every last person I spoke with had a tone of true concern and sympathy in their voice. In the midst of menstrual hormone hell, I shockingly only choked up a couple times. However, when I spoke with my mother, I couldn't hold it back any longer, and I think I even said "fuckin'." All of this stress and frustration pressurizes at the bottled-up bottleneck, putting a definable discomfort around my heart. I don't want to cry about it... but I can't let it all just build up, either. One of these days, I will accept that it is okay to cry. Right?
This has been a powerful and painful lesson. I am FORCED to ask for help. Something I could not and would not do willingly in the past. If I do not ask for, nor accept help, I will be cowardly forfeiting all that I've worked for. Throwing in the towel on myself. A few years ago, I may have done just that.
Now? I refuse.
UP.
Oh... Mona, Mona, Mona.
I'm pretty drained and looking a bit disheveled, but I have certainly used my time wisely. I've been on the phone with my cell phone company, mortgage company, electric company, gas company, unemployment office, the local college, my assistance case worker... all in the name of survival! I'm swallowing my pride and applying for any and all types of assistance available to me, in preparation for a long, hard, winter. And, the worse case scenario: no job, and no unemployment benefits at the beginning of frosty February.
I pray to God I don't get to that point.
I'm hoping that all of this ground work will take a bit of the edge off of the financial fear that often keeps me awake at night. Every last person I spoke with had a tone of true concern and sympathy in their voice. In the midst of menstrual hormone hell, I shockingly only choked up a couple times. However, when I spoke with my mother, I couldn't hold it back any longer, and I think I even said "fuckin'." All of this stress and frustration pressurizes at the bottled-up bottleneck, putting a definable discomfort around my heart. I don't want to cry about it... but I can't let it all just build up, either. One of these days, I will accept that it is okay to cry. Right?
This has been a powerful and painful lesson. I am FORCED to ask for help. Something I could not and would not do willingly in the past. If I do not ask for, nor accept help, I will be cowardly forfeiting all that I've worked for. Throwing in the towel on myself. A few years ago, I may have done just that.
Now? I refuse.
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