FED UP!

You know, I’ve really tried to keep a positive attitude through all this. I really have. But I’m so done. I’m fed up with everything, and everyone. Kaput. Done.

I just fell stepping over a basket of dirty laundry in the laundry room. I yelped and slid down the wall as my right leg went one way, and my left the other. I fell hard enough that I knocked the leg askew on the back table when I slid into it, and no one even came to see if dear old mom was OK. Jeffrey had refused to bring down his laundry, and David dumped two baskets. The baskets I was stepping over.  I’m mad.

We now have FOUR birds. My husband devotes more time to the birds than to us. I get it. They ask nothing of him, and sixteen months of unemployment is hard on a man’s psyche. I get it. And the birds are about the least harmful habit he could have picked up. I get it. I’m even fricking happy about it. But FOUR is enough. No more. And stop bathing them in my shower- I don’t want to pick pieces of birdie poop off the walls. Enough.

There are apple skins by the TV, despite no food being allowed in the family room. There is a pudding cup on the floor where Jeffrey dropped in while he was bitching about his stupid homework and demanding a calculator to do simple addition.

I was so busy trying to put the groceries away, I completely forgot about my piano lessons today. The one thing that’s just for ME, and I forgot it.

I’m sick of feeling like an unpaid maid. I’m sick of endless laundry, endless messes on the floor, of picking up socks and stray toys on the stairs and trying to keep all of our chins up. SICK OF IT.

I’m sick of diapers and cannot figure out why Abby just doesn’t care if she sits in poo. Yuck already girl, the boys cared, why don’t you? Ew.

I’m sick from having to go to the DHS offices today because we are all out of freaking money.  We got foodstamps. We live in an upscale neighborhood, but we haven’t had regular work in a year and half, and I have FLIPPIN’ foodstamps. I want to throw up. It’s not about pride. It’s about what next? The lady at the DHS said I would qualify for more if I were unmarried. If I got pregnant, unmarried, they would even pay my rent. I’m sick.

SIXTEEN months we’ve lasted. In sixteen months we have never so much as been a DAY late on our bills. We used our six-months reserves. We used our savings. We used our cashed-in 401K. We used everything we could possibly scrounge up. What next? WHAT NEXT?! Are we supposed to fall on our faces? Are we supposed to fail? What am I doing wrong? Are we supposed to lose the house we worked so freaking hard for? Is this what lays in wait for me next?

How do I get out of this hell?

Now, I have to go ice my knee before I go meet the Bishop in half an hour.

DAMMIT!

16 thoughts on “FED UP!

  1. Days, weeks, months, years like this suck. Absolutely suck.

    I had a week somewhat like this, and last Friday when I talked to a friend she told me that at least I’d made it to Friday and the week was almost over. My response was that she was right, and that next week couldn’t be any worse. She stopped me and said, “Don’t say that! Don’t ever say that because it *could* be worse. Say, ‘This week is bound to be better.’ ”

    Tracy, especially after talking with your bishop, this week is bound to be better.

    I hope. For your sake and mine. I’m about to hit the panic wall and it’s going to hurt.

    Hope you weren’t injured in the laundry room. Sounds like it hurt. Though it probably felt pretty good to lash out at the laundry piles and baskets!

  2. I’m sorry. It sucks. It SUCKS BIG TIME.

    Forgive me and smack me if this is misspoken but your day reminded me of my friend’s Christmas of a few years ago. She was a single mom raising two teenagers (no, you shouldn’t feel lucky you aren’t her, it’s not about that).

    On Christmas Eve she hurt her back, so although she had all the presents and goodies purchased, when it came to the presentation of Christmas day it just didn’t happen. She asked her capable teenagers to make food and they refused. REFUSED! They were so wrapped up in the loss of their ideal Christmas that they wouldn’t serve their mother. This was an awakening moment for my friend.

    That Christmas was bad enough that she stopped doing everything for her children and determined to teach them self-sufficiency. Her 12 year old did his laundry from then on and her daughter started cooking dinners. It was a bad day that turned into a positive experience because it opened her eyes to change.

    My own recent illness has effected similar changes in our family. At first I was guilt ridden; now I know it is good for my family to serve each other (including me!) and to grow in their abilities. My children aren’t teenagers but they do more and my husband has greater responsibilities than I felt comfortable with before.

  3. Job or no job, this sucks! This is how it is in my house all the time. The other day little J walked up the stairs with the his mail and ripped open the envelopes and left all the scraps like a trail of breadcrumbs for me to pick up. I agree with jendoop and say that all moms in this situation should go on strike! Burn the aprons!

    Oh wait, scratch that, we are all about to be quarantined, right before summer, what fun :)

  4. I’m sorry you’re going through this, but I’m glad that you can vent and you don’t feel you have to bottle it all up. I hear you with the frustration with DHS. We’re trying to get my daughter on MedicAid to help pay for her bone marrow transplant and the social security person asked if we charged her rent. She’s five months old. I told him no. “You really should charge her rent. You’ll get more money.” SHE’S FIVE MONTHS OLD! I’m not going to charge her rent! Besides that, we don’t want money, we want health insurance. He didn’t get it. Our friends lost their health coverage when they got married after she had a baby. Why is it that the government only wants to help if you make dumb, dysfunctional, unproductive decisions, but if you’re trying hard to keep your family together and get through a rough spot, you’re out of luck? (That’s probably an unfair generalization, but your comment is right. If you got divorced, pregnant, but still lived with your (former) husband they’d give you tons of money!)

  5. Hang in there. We’re all in this mess together. Things ARE bound to get better. I second the vote for selling your own crafted wares. Your work is beautiful and orginal and I would pay real dollars for it. :)

  6. Tracy, I’m sorry things are so sucky for you right now. Like all of your other friends here, I wish I could make it go away for you or at least make it easier.

  7. My 3 year old doesn’t care if he sits in poo either. I freak’n don’t get it!

    (maybe a 3rd child thing?)

    ((((HUGS))))

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