and again

I find myself in an irrational and emotional state. How can someone be so happy and sure of the fact that life is good, while at the same time be drowning in the panicky feeling that at any second I will be sucked down the drain into the dark abyss I deserve of financial ruin. I am so high on the mantra of "it's only money", and how it shouldn't dictate ones life. And yet here I am, tossing and turning at night wondering whether I will lose my car, be homeless, or something worse before the month is out. So then I seem to be unable to control the need I have to impulse buy something. anything. something I love to make me feel like I am not an impoverished welfare case with no hope of survival. Damn the credit cards. Damn the emotions. I really just want to vent, and yet I feel awful dumping this whirlpool of feelings on anyone. And realize that there is no one in my life at this present time that wants, or can even stand, to hear me go on. So I puke out my guts to the internet. Make me feel better, world wide web.

Let me tell you what I hate, cyber land: I  hate feeling completely out of control of my body. No matter how much I eat, or don't, the pounds, or at least the inches just gang up against me and my entire wardrobe, compelling me to drive to old navy to find elastic waist shorts so that I can skip the mumu for a couple hours. You think I exagerate, but no, it's true. The only thing I fit into is my new sweat shorts and my shapeless sun dresses, which earn me constant congratulations on my advanced stage of gestation, and worried offers of condolences for my condition in the blazing heat. Hey, if it means a free chair at the front of the stage or an ice cold lemonade, whatever. I will be pregnant forever. The frustration with my weight and or size leads directly into my frustration with my other bodily functions, and how I never know from moment to moment which system will break down on me next, and whether my face will break out, my stomach will inflate to unbelievable proportions, or I will wake up feeling like my lower back is broken. I want to be in control of how my body feels. To not feel trapped in a stuffy fat suit and aggravated reproductive system. Make it stop!!! I am resolved to reshape my diet, to rebuilt my immune system from the ground up and get f-ing healthy!!! Which is why I went to mcDondalds for a cheeseburger and large fry today. Last fling, right? Right.

I also hate the transecting loss of control of my finances. I hate that the credit card companies have me by the twisted and mangled ovaries, and now the debt consolidation firms are vying for control of my gonads. I hate them all, the lecherous predators that I offered myself to so willingly. Damn them. I just want one quick leg up, a chance to get my balances down to where my payments won't be eaten up in fees and 26% interest rates. If you think I am kidding, I will send you my credit report. It will make you cry, and not in a good way.

I really hate living in limbo. I CAN'T WAIT to move into my new house, and every minute is filled with the overshadowing fear that I won't be able to come up with the $1600 I need by August 1st to move in. So to steady my frenzied nerves I went to summer fest and bought a new bag. God. I blame the praise and worship band that was playing on the main stage and compelled me to go do something bad in retaliation. I think I don't really have a grasp on how bitter I am at organized religion. And all this time I thought I was so well balanced. Kostecka was right. But I have to believe I will find a way. beg, borrow, steal. I will, have to, have a life for me and the girls. I just want that. I want stability. I want peace and rest. If only David could pay his child support. I could pay rent. It would balance out. It would mean the difference between bankruptcy and paying off my bills. It would mean the world. Another realm of bitterness that I am avoiding: David.

I really love my life. I have the best life I could have imagined. It will be even better when the girls are here and we are settled in. When so many of these questions are answered. I love this place. I love my job, albeit temporary. And I will do whatever I have to to make it work. Whatever I have to.  Except maybe clean my room. I am thankful. Now if I can just get on top of it...