The Bad to Worse Update.
Today. Fiasco. Mom upset about money again. She was screaming at the Dish people about being overcharged and how it cost too much money. When I spoke to my old landlord? I didn't scream. And that was $1450. Not $40.
I got a residual check in the mail today. For $85.16. Okay. Not very much. I didn't care. I was excited when it came. Still. I signed it over to her. Told her to take it. To cancel the Dish. That I was tired of hearing her scream at people. This money shit is getting old. I had to listen to it the whole time I was growing up for God's sakes. And past five years have been no financial picnic. Now I'm 38. At home with mom. Hard enough. And still listening to it. After I gave her the check? I sent an email to the temp company I had met with in May or June and told them I'd work next week. If they were okay with me being in Orange County. (Sometimes they like you to be local so you can get there quickly).
My face looks like a pizza from stress. I didn't yoga. I don't care. I've been sitting in bed crying and writing. If I don't get out of here quickly, I will put a ladder on the side of the house and jump. Things have seriously have gone from bad to worse.
Glamour magazine published an essay in their Februrary issue about a 43 year-old woman who put an ad in the newspaper for a new family. And her story had many reasons that were similar to the script that I wrote 4 years ago. About a woman whose life isn't working so she kidnaps the perfect parents to be re-raised. I'm thinking that could be a fix for my script. And for my life. If only. It was pretty uplifting. Her talking about unconditional love. And estrangement from her parents. And how she thought that these parents could get her closer to a real relationship. Closer to marriage. How her patterns have been changing. I am indeed living with my issues. I've lasted 27 days. And I don't think I can take it any more.
People keep telling me I've reached my low and it can only get better... then *presto* lower.
I got a residual check in the mail today. For $85.16. Okay. Not very much. I didn't care. I was excited when it came. Still. I signed it over to her. Told her to take it. To cancel the Dish. That I was tired of hearing her scream at people. This money shit is getting old. I had to listen to it the whole time I was growing up for God's sakes. And past five years have been no financial picnic. Now I'm 38. At home with mom. Hard enough. And still listening to it. After I gave her the check? I sent an email to the temp company I had met with in May or June and told them I'd work next week. If they were okay with me being in Orange County. (Sometimes they like you to be local so you can get there quickly).
My face looks like a pizza from stress. I didn't yoga. I don't care. I've been sitting in bed crying and writing. If I don't get out of here quickly, I will put a ladder on the side of the house and jump. Things have seriously have gone from bad to worse.
Glamour magazine published an essay in their Februrary issue about a 43 year-old woman who put an ad in the newspaper for a new family. And her story had many reasons that were similar to the script that I wrote 4 years ago. About a woman whose life isn't working so she kidnaps the perfect parents to be re-raised. I'm thinking that could be a fix for my script. And for my life. If only. It was pretty uplifting. Her talking about unconditional love. And estrangement from her parents. And how she thought that these parents could get her closer to a real relationship. Closer to marriage. How her patterns have been changing. I am indeed living with my issues. I've lasted 27 days. And I don't think I can take it any more.
People keep telling me I've reached my low and it can only get better... then *presto* lower.
posted by jodypwrites | 3:01 PM
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