At least it's not raining...
Mar. 2nd, 2013 08:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladydrace*crack of thunder*
I am really very bitter right now.
I moved to this place, this apartment, specifically to make things better for Pea. I accepted it before I knew I wouldn't actually be having him here. When I realized that he'd be going into foster care, I did some calculations and I thought I could make it work with the information I had at the time. But now, starting my 3rd month here, it's clear that I cannot afford it. Pea is still with me, and therefore I still get certain financial benefits, but it's already tight since his address is now at B's. When Pea goes away, I will be so so fucked.
I've had to borrow money from the bank to make ends meet this month, but I don't know what I'll do next month. My mother says she'll help me, but she's not rich either. She can't support me, and neither should she.
So. All signs point to the fact that I need to move again. As soon as humanly possible. Into something much smaller. The good news is that since I'll be moving to something else in this town, I won't have to move far, and therefore won't need a moving company. I'll probably also have to sell at least half of all my furniture, but fuck that. I need food more than I need a cupboard. I'll live in boxes if I have to. I just have to make the goddamn ends meet.
I'm tired from my first move and the thought of going through another one so soon makes me wanna cry. And I have. Fuck. Looks like 2013 will be a year of stress and despair.
It seems that no matter how hard I try to do the right thing, all my good intentions are flung back into my face.
Just to put the cherry on top of the cake, I also finally got word from the psychiatrists. They've given up on me. In their own words: "In the future we would recommend a social support effort rather than medical or psychiatric treatment." What the hell am I going to do with that?! If I take their word for it and roll over, that would also mean that any hope of getting Pea home again will be lost. Which is fucking unacceptable. They can't do this to me.
I think right now I'm even past a point where I'm surprised every time more shit falls onto my head. That fact that I haven't had a nervous breakdown yet is some kind of miracle. Lots of other weird stuff going on with my head, but as long as I'm still standing, I can make it. I have to make it.
I am really very bitter right now.
I moved to this place, this apartment, specifically to make things better for Pea. I accepted it before I knew I wouldn't actually be having him here. When I realized that he'd be going into foster care, I did some calculations and I thought I could make it work with the information I had at the time. But now, starting my 3rd month here, it's clear that I cannot afford it. Pea is still with me, and therefore I still get certain financial benefits, but it's already tight since his address is now at B's. When Pea goes away, I will be so so fucked.
I've had to borrow money from the bank to make ends meet this month, but I don't know what I'll do next month. My mother says she'll help me, but she's not rich either. She can't support me, and neither should she.
So. All signs point to the fact that I need to move again. As soon as humanly possible. Into something much smaller. The good news is that since I'll be moving to something else in this town, I won't have to move far, and therefore won't need a moving company. I'll probably also have to sell at least half of all my furniture, but fuck that. I need food more than I need a cupboard. I'll live in boxes if I have to. I just have to make the goddamn ends meet.
I'm tired from my first move and the thought of going through another one so soon makes me wanna cry. And I have. Fuck. Looks like 2013 will be a year of stress and despair.
It seems that no matter how hard I try to do the right thing, all my good intentions are flung back into my face.
Just to put the cherry on top of the cake, I also finally got word from the psychiatrists. They've given up on me. In their own words: "In the future we would recommend a social support effort rather than medical or psychiatric treatment." What the hell am I going to do with that?! If I take their word for it and roll over, that would also mean that any hope of getting Pea home again will be lost. Which is fucking unacceptable. They can't do this to me.
I think right now I'm even past a point where I'm surprised every time more shit falls onto my head. That fact that I haven't had a nervous breakdown yet is some kind of miracle. Lots of other weird stuff going on with my head, but as long as I'm still standing, I can make it. I have to make it.
