(hands up who now has a David Bowie earworm? You’re welcome!)
I have made a lot of changes in the last year. Losing weight, starting exercise; the TAHBSO (Total Abdominal Hysterectomy and Bilateral Salpingo-Oopherectomy and ensuing surgical menopause; taking better care of my skin, wearing make-up more; and getting more interested in clothing and fashion again after years of hiding in shapeless oversized clothes.
Not to mention actually getting real help with my mental illness(es?!), being in a stable and loving relationship (*mwah!* to the Teabot5000) and working towards not only getting out of debt but STAYING out of debt.
Most of these changes have been difficult, and especially so for the poor old Teabot5000 – He. Does. Not. Like. Change.
I mean, it would be hard enough for most men – but throw in the Asperger’s and you could have a disaster.
So far, we’ve managed to keep sailing. Mostly. We’ve had a few instances where we’ve both had to bail water out of the bottom of the boat, so to speak…
But then today I was soooooo ANGRY!!!
Not really at himself. Just at – well, EVERYTHING! I’m tired of being broke. I’m REALLY tired of that. I’m tired of having to watch every single cent as it briefly transits through our bank account into someone else’s pocket.
I’m tired of being TIRED. Still. (although some of that may be due to not getting enough iron – see “watching every bloody cent” above…)
I’m tired of feeling like my life has no meaning.
Yes, I know we’re well off compared to many – we have the house, we have the car, we have each other, we’re not starving, we have clean water etc etc. I know I should be grateful for all that and I am – but I am feeling whiney and miserable and I just want to know WHY IS IT ALL SO HARD?!?!
There are some luxuries in my life, after all – the gym membership is expensive (but nowhere near as expensive as staying fat and inactive); and I generally get help to see the medical professionals I need to see. We have the internet, for gawd’s sake.
And I am fully aware that my former spending habits (and a few episodes of uncontrolled mania) are largely to blame for our current situation.
Maybe if I sell a kidney, I could afford some fripperies?
(you know I’m joking about the kidney, right? But if you’re interested in second hand sewing machines, let’s make a DEAL!)
BUT – I would like to be well enough to work. At something meaningful. Is that too much to ask? (Probably, given the economy – with so many able bodied/non-mentally-ill/more recently employed potential employees out there, who on earth is going to “spare a shekel for an old ex leper?”, to slightly misquote The Pythons.)
They all want the one advertised job...
Congrats if you’ve managed to read this far without my whine turning into the noise Charlie Brown’s teachers make:
Wah Wah Wah