The Fear

I was going to take pictures of my bookshelves for this post but it was far too pathetic. I've sold most of my books, DVDs, and CDs over the past few months for the extra money (usually for pig-related purchases). Now I am weeding through the items I thought I couldn't part with so that I can put the money towards my citation. Funny how easily it is to mourn and get over having to part with things you once thought you couldn't let go of. Sadly, I've fucked up badly enough that I'm going through and finding solid silver spoons given to me by my grandmother and wondering what I can get for my old digital camera at a pawn shop. I even considered getting rid of internet until I remembered that the internet is necessary for times like right now, when I've had to work from home (I connect to my office desktop through the internet).

This blows. What's worse is that it is so stupid. I have a good job and make good money and yet I still live paycheck to paycheck. Regardless of my forty hours a week, I still stocked up on Ramen today because it is nineteen cents a packet and I won't be able to afford much more going forward. In May I will move to a new apartment, one I haven't yet found but that will cost much less. As soon as I get my car back I will cancel my gym membership. Tomorrow, when I'm back in the office, I'll put my Netflix movie in the mail and cancel that as well to save the eight bucks.

I'm happy to rely on the library but there are certain books I hope to never have to part with, namely An Unquiet Mind, which I read in college and in which I first saw the signs of bi polar in myself. That book aided in the saving of my life. Part of me wants to rip off half the cover to ensure that I never can sell it. But I won't because it is, after all, just a book. And if it can bring me fifty cents, I'll have to take it.

You know, my boss gave me shit about working from home, the day after my car accident. "Please try to come to the office if you can." How was I supposed to manage this without a car? The bus system in Columbus is not that great. It would be at least 90 minutes and at least two transfers and I don't think the timing would work. I cannot afford cab fare let alone a rental and I, stupidly, only have liability insurance. I work hard. I bitch and moan and joke but I actually work really hard. And when I work at home, I put in at least a nine hour day whilst I only charge for eight hours because no one is asking me to go that extra mile. But I do it out of guilt.

Yesterday evening, I shredded newspaper so that I could clean Johan's cage and that broke my heart. He seems OK but I hate that I can't afford to buy him his bedding. Hunter commented that at times it seems I take better of my guinea pig than I do of myself but Johan is my pet and he shouldn't have to suffer because I'm an idiot. I've even made plans for him, should things get out of control; Upstairs Kid will keep him and I'll come every day to take care of him should I not be in a spot to take care of him myself. How ridiculous is that? Johan will always have hay, bell peppers, cilantro, and vitamins for his water, even if I have to eat nineteen cent Ramen. But I can't bear to give him away because I love him and because i don't think he'd cope well in a new setting after three years with me. I, who has never wanted children, am acting like a desperate mother.

Hunter offered to loan me money. So did Upstairs Kid, who has nothing to really lend. But, as I say, I dug my own grave and it is for me to either climb my way out of it or pull down the dirt on top of me. That is the worst part, knowing how good I have it and how badly I've fucked up and caused myself problems.

No, that isn't the worst. The worst is the gnawing fear and uncertainty. I honestly don't know how things are going to work out and I don't know what I'm going to do. I've been looking for part time work for a second job for awhile now but I haven't been successful and I've actually felt guilty with my frustration because, after all, how can I ask for two jobs when so many don't even have one? But I am well and truly terrified because I don't know what I'm going to do and if I'm going to be able to climb out of this hole. Why the stupidity that was my car accident must be so expensive, I'll never know. But I'll try my best to find a solution.

Years from now I'm certain I'll tell stories, with pride, about how I made it through our "Great Recession." But right now I'm scared. Right now, I'm fucking terrified.