A tale of a horrible, terrible, very, very BAD day

Can this day get any fucking worse?

I wake up, get dressed. I clean the bathrooms, then make the boys get up and help me pick up their stuff, as it’s been sitting around in here for days. They grouse and grumble, but I stand firm and they get it done. I wash the dishes, then sit down and plan my strategy for tomorrow, if I can get what I need to get.

After a bit I decide to wash my clothes, so I put them in the machine and start it up. It fills…and nothing else. Okay, this has happened to me before. I rearrange some things, then restart the machine. It fills–and that’s it. Getting frustrated now, but I rearrange the clothes and restart the machine again. It fills–and stops.

I kicked the machine once or twice–not hard–then took my clothes out and washed them all by hand. I did the best I could, but I have no idea how clean they are. I do not need the washing machine to stop working. I already don’t have money for simple, basic things; I have absolutely none to go to a laundromat. My friends are already on edge with me; they don’t need this either.

The clothes are in the dryer now. I want to wash what I’m wearing later, so I’m going to have to do that by hand too. I have to decide what to do about this new obstacle.

By then, it’s time to get dinner up for the kids, so I reach into the freezer and pull out the wings they said they wanted. Remember that, okay? There aren’t a lot of wings to fill up the stomachs of three kids, so I pull out some taquitos to supplement. I get the wings done and the taquitos, then fix plates.

The boys come back after three minutes, say they don’t like the wings. Their father bought them, so I’d figure he knows what they like to eat. By this time, I just don’t care, so I split the wings with my goddaughter and make more taquitos for the boys.

Then the older boy comes in the kitchen. He wants to throw some taquitos in the trash. They ate them just fine yesterday, so I ask him what the problem with them is. They have sauce (from the wings) on them, he says. At this point, these kids have eaten no dinner at all; they throw those taquitos away, they’ll be left with just three. I know these kids–they’ll be looking all pouty and starved in two hours or less if I let this happen. I tell him that there are six taquitos frying now–three each for himself and his brother. Once those are gone, there aren’t any more. He wants to throw those away, fine, but don’t come looking at me when he’s hungry in two hours. He says okay and throws them out. I tell him to wash the plate and get ready to put the other taquitos on it. Then he says that’s not his plate, it’s his brother’s.

I asked him why his brother couldn’t come in here and tell me himself he had a problem? He’s 6, but still old enough to tell me what he doesn’t like. I tell myself to breathe, and take some deep breaths. I tell myself that this too shall pass. I give the older boy his taquitos, and tell the younger one (who’s suddenly full, even though he’s eaten nothing) that his taquitos are in the microwave, and can be warmed up when he’s ready for them.

Then I called Volcano to wish him happy father’s day. I was annoyed and pissed off, and he heard it. He asked me about it. Gave him a rundown and my mother heard it. Don’t get me started about what *she* had to say about it.

This weekend has not been fun. Today has not been fun. What am I doing wrong to have all this happen to me? Is this some kind of sign?

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*ping, ping, ping*

Trying to avoid getting whapped by emotional ping-pong balls. It’s not working very well.

My emotions frighten me. I feel like I’m on edge all the time, for nothing. The smallest things set me off. I’m afraid that I’m slipping down the sanity slope.

I feel like an idiot for being afraid of something that’s mine. But they’re very strong and I don’t know how to deal with them. I wish I could bury them and rock on, but it’s been made very clear that I can’t do that anymore. Okay, but now what do I do?

How do you deal with a lava flow? Yeah, direct the flow, but direct it where? Where is it safe to direct something that burns everything it touches?

Something’s wrong with this picture

See this with me, ladies and gents:

I ask for some money to catch the bus so I can go out and start this new phase that I’m finally ready to start. I get told, hey sorry, no money til Friday. Sucks, but okay.

But then, when the person who tells me no money comes back from picking up his kid from summer school, he has ice cream and junk food for the other two kids.

You have money for junk food, but can’t hand me two bucks for bus fare so I can try to get a job–this thing that you say you WANT me to do?

What’s the matter with this picture?

Feeling clearer, ready to move to the next phase

After some thinking, some head-banging, a trio of talking sessions, and some reassurances I didn’t know I needed, I feel much better and will now step into the next phase of the program in a better frame of mind.

Maybe I feel better because the next phase involves going out and seeing people. I feel like I’m finally ready to do something, though why it’s taken me so long to get there is a mystery.

There’s still a lot to get through, but I think if I’m doing something, the other stuff will be easier to handle.

So, thanks to everybody who’s helped me. It’s finally gotten through my thick head, and actions are forthcoming as soon as a new week is upon us.

You gotta know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em

“It’s smart to know when to throw in the towel.”

So said the Keeper of the Holograms when I talked to her today. She’s firmly on the “come back home” side of the debate.

I feel stuck in the middle. Nothing is happening here, but nothing will happen if I go home, either, leaving me with no gain. The things I’m doing here are things I was doing at my mom’s house, so again, no gain there either. Now that summer’s here, the kids will be home all day, so I need to decide how I’m going to handle that. At my mom’s house, at least there’s somewhere to go if the noise gets to be too much. Right now, my mom (and others of the family) are telling me of all these job opportunities that are cropping up there. If I went home, they would dry up and suddenly there’d be job opportunities out here. It’s happened to me before. I don’t feel useful here. At my mom’s house, I felt useful.

There are as many reasons to stay here as there are reasons to go back home. Both things are pretty even. I don’t know what the best thing to do is.