(no subject)
Ughh... Life really sucks sometimes. I'm broke, I don't have money to pay the rent, I have no job, and two cars that are fucked up to some degree. To top it all off, most of it is my fault to a degree, and I can't even fucking help it. I should be able to, but I haven't. I want to, I need to, my perpetuated happiness depends upon it, nay my very existance as a being even slightly content with her way of life, to the point where if things got any worse, I'd probably just curl up and cry 'till I dehydrated myself.
I need work, and I need to stop getting into fucked up situations at work. I want something where I can take a fucking day off if I have to work 13 unscheduled hours the day before, and not get to sleep untill I have to be up in an hour, when I had the most stressful day of work that one can have without being dirrectly and deliberately targeted and attacked. I want to have something that will support my family and not give me a coronary in the process. Is it so much to ask, to make enough to pay my rent, and buy my food, and not die in the process? I know I should have done more about it. But I couldn't bring myself to. I hurt physically from the stress. Not just a little, imense, throbbing pain through my entire body.
For those who didn't hear about it yet, I was on a delivery at an appartment complex (a row of flats for those outside the US) while I was inside the building, (3rd floor, no windows out) someone backed into my Cavalier that I just bought maybe 2 months ago, has liability only insurance on it, and left before I got outside. There's a big fucking dent and a small hole in the deck lid on that car now. Simpathy from the boss when I ask for the rest of the night off? Fuck that, not happening.
Some time later that night, I'm at another appartment, 3rd floor, no windows, much lower class neighborhood (read Ghetto).I come out and some asshole with oversized clothes and too much bling (you know how that's read, but I'll leave it out, since some of my friends might take it the wrong way) is in my car trying to jack my fucking radio. Being the perfect stereotype he was, he was far too fast for my fat ass to catch when he saw me and bolted. Nothing I can do, a police report would have the cops looking for half the damn neighborhood. Sympathy? Not unless someone else wants to close. Of course they don't, why should they care that I'm having such a shitty day?
The night goes on for a while with no incidents. then, around 1 am, I'm sitting at a light, about to turn in to a gas station (it was the Xtra Mart on Ritchie Hwy, for those in the area, I was making a left at that awful light. My gas gauge says I've got a quarter tank left. *SputtesputtersputterDIE!* says my car as the float in the gas tank falls to where it should have read. So once the light changes, I've gotta push the car accross a 3 lane divided highway alone, and then up the damn hill into the station. Luckily someone saw me and stopped to help out, cause I never would have made it up the hill on my own. I drop a ten in the tank, go back to the store to start cleaning, and finish around 3 o'clock.
Waiting on the boss to finish his paperwork. 3:30. "You almost done in there?" "Just a few minutes!" he says. 4:00. Still not done. 4:30. Nope 4:50, nothing. Just as the clock strikes 5:00 am, he comes out of the office. The computers fucked up, and he couldn't tell me this untill 5 o'fucking'clock in the morning. I'm already asleep by now on a normal night, and on those nights I'm lucky to make it home awake. So he tells me I can take the day off. Great, at least I get SOME time to recover, I thought.
The next night, at around 6:30, he calls me wondering where I am. I didn't even answer the phone, I'm eating dinner and I REALLY don't wanna talk to him after the night I've just had. He calls to tell me I'm late for work? What the fuck? The nerve of this guy... For the next couple days, I tried to call to find out when I work next, and get no answer from him, and when I called on the store phone, he's not there, or he's too busy to talk. So by the time I actually get to talk to him, it's been almost a week, I tell him I've been trying to contact him, was in no condition to work on Sunday, and I wanted to go back to work on monday, but didn't have a schedule, or enough gas to go out there if I wasn't working that day. So what does he tell me? He doesn't know if I still have a fucking job. He ended up deciding to fire me.
I know it was partly my fault, and I should have done something about it, but stress overwhelms me at times, and I can't think rationally, or act on anything I ought to be doing, no matter how much I know I should be doing it, and the more it happens, the more it hurts me, and the people I love. The part is, I don't know how to stop it from happening, and I don't have the time or the resources to get professional help right now. And all this is not to even mention the stress I have to deal with living as someone I'm not every time I go anywhere in public. That in itself is enough to make a person want to give up some times....
I suppose there's alot more to say, but my head hurts, and I should be getting some sleep right now.
I need work, and I need to stop getting into fucked up situations at work. I want something where I can take a fucking day off if I have to work 13 unscheduled hours the day before, and not get to sleep untill I have to be up in an hour, when I had the most stressful day of work that one can have without being dirrectly and deliberately targeted and attacked. I want to have something that will support my family and not give me a coronary in the process. Is it so much to ask, to make enough to pay my rent, and buy my food, and not die in the process? I know I should have done more about it. But I couldn't bring myself to. I hurt physically from the stress. Not just a little, imense, throbbing pain through my entire body.
For those who didn't hear about it yet, I was on a delivery at an appartment complex (a row of flats for those outside the US) while I was inside the building, (3rd floor, no windows out) someone backed into my Cavalier that I just bought maybe 2 months ago, has liability only insurance on it, and left before I got outside. There's a big fucking dent and a small hole in the deck lid on that car now. Simpathy from the boss when I ask for the rest of the night off? Fuck that, not happening.
Some time later that night, I'm at another appartment, 3rd floor, no windows, much lower class neighborhood (read Ghetto).I come out and some asshole with oversized clothes and too much bling (you know how that's read, but I'll leave it out, since some of my friends might take it the wrong way) is in my car trying to jack my fucking radio. Being the perfect stereotype he was, he was far too fast for my fat ass to catch when he saw me and bolted. Nothing I can do, a police report would have the cops looking for half the damn neighborhood. Sympathy? Not unless someone else wants to close. Of course they don't, why should they care that I'm having such a shitty day?
The night goes on for a while with no incidents. then, around 1 am, I'm sitting at a light, about to turn in to a gas station (it was the Xtra Mart on Ritchie Hwy, for those in the area, I was making a left at that awful light. My gas gauge says I've got a quarter tank left. *SputtesputtersputterDIE!* says my car as the float in the gas tank falls to where it should have read. So once the light changes, I've gotta push the car accross a 3 lane divided highway alone, and then up the damn hill into the station. Luckily someone saw me and stopped to help out, cause I never would have made it up the hill on my own. I drop a ten in the tank, go back to the store to start cleaning, and finish around 3 o'clock.
Waiting on the boss to finish his paperwork. 3:30. "You almost done in there?" "Just a few minutes!" he says. 4:00. Still not done. 4:30. Nope 4:50, nothing. Just as the clock strikes 5:00 am, he comes out of the office. The computers fucked up, and he couldn't tell me this untill 5 o'fucking'clock in the morning. I'm already asleep by now on a normal night, and on those nights I'm lucky to make it home awake. So he tells me I can take the day off. Great, at least I get SOME time to recover, I thought.
The next night, at around 6:30, he calls me wondering where I am. I didn't even answer the phone, I'm eating dinner and I REALLY don't wanna talk to him after the night I've just had. He calls to tell me I'm late for work? What the fuck? The nerve of this guy... For the next couple days, I tried to call to find out when I work next, and get no answer from him, and when I called on the store phone, he's not there, or he's too busy to talk. So by the time I actually get to talk to him, it's been almost a week, I tell him I've been trying to contact him, was in no condition to work on Sunday, and I wanted to go back to work on monday, but didn't have a schedule, or enough gas to go out there if I wasn't working that day. So what does he tell me? He doesn't know if I still have a fucking job. He ended up deciding to fire me.
I know it was partly my fault, and I should have done something about it, but stress overwhelms me at times, and I can't think rationally, or act on anything I ought to be doing, no matter how much I know I should be doing it, and the more it happens, the more it hurts me, and the people I love. The part is, I don't know how to stop it from happening, and I don't have the time or the resources to get professional help right now. And all this is not to even mention the stress I have to deal with living as someone I'm not every time I go anywhere in public. That in itself is enough to make a person want to give up some times....
I suppose there's alot more to say, but my head hurts, and I should be getting some sleep right now.