a pothole the size of the Grand Canyon
2004-02-15 @ 9:37 a.m.
Wow. Iím depressed. I have been just trying to keep going (sorta) in my incredibly half-assed way and so I didnít apparently notice. But I must be depressed, because I have been slowly but surely digging myself into a hole. I havenít worked a 40 hour week since I started, thanks to Voluntary Time Off and holidays, and since January, having some absence room and personal holidays to take.
I realized that I have been avoiding enrolling in medical coverage (because I canít afford full family coverage, but the court order that states Sal is responsible for the girlsí insurance is about as helpful as the court order for child supportÖ) and my time is nearly up.. And I guessing Iím slowly but surely edging towards the big fuck up. Because this morning, due to PMS, I guess I was feeling pretty used- I mean, there I was driving the girls 15 miles out of my way to Sal ís so he could watch them for 9 hours while I worked. Everything costs me. I accept that without too much bitterness, but my other hand is digging this hole.
Itís a little scary to have this revelation at 7 am in the morning.
The revelation was a by-product of realizing that I am convinced that all the gigantic potholes in MN are trying to kill me.
I drive a little Dodge Neon. Hitting a big pothole going 55 can really bounce you around in a light car like that- and it seems, that there are potholes everywhere I go.
So anyway- the next step is what Iíd better do. Iím not really sure. I guess talk to someone. I donít want to be anesthetized again, which is what I felt happened with my last medication. Of course, my other meds were anxiety-based, (celexa) and anxiety wouldnít be my current issue.
I would write it all off as feeling blue the day after Valentines Day except that I am grateful that I received a terrifically thoughtful gift in the mail this week, and I have been very much alone for about the past 7 years on Valentines Day. At least this year I don't miss Sal and wish something of him for myself.
Itís the crevasse I am slightly more aware of that makes me know itís not blues over the made up holiday.
The biggest issue is that in spite of the fact that I have to take care of every responsibility, I am completely helpless in being able to force anyone else to take the responsibility that they should be taking. All I can do is try harder to work everyday- and take care of things myself.
I donít want to. The grown up mommylap costume is hanging in the closet, and it doesnít fucking fit and I donít want to put it on. After all itís the ďall by myselfĒ issue thatís inching me over towards the pothole.
Recognizing thereís a problem is the first step, right?
Good thing everything else is left to me.