deep emotional turmoil
Deep emotional turmoil,
or,
Fuck I am so confused
Fuck I am so confused about so much. I am so confused about how Steven could simply not show up for work for three days as if there won't be consequences-not having income, not having insurance, having to pay back the money he received for tuition reimbursement, etc. I'm just worrying myself sick imagining him engaged in some deep emotional turmoil but being too proud to talk about it. Fuck, see a doctor and get some pills.
This guy David came into the bank today, whom I know both as a customer there and as a member of the YMCA. He recently finished whatever is needed to become a certified massage therapist, and of course, he offered me a free massage. I wasn't terribly excited about the prospect of having a man's hands put all over me in such a context, but I really don't care at this point. I need a massage. He came in to the bank today, and as he was filling out his deposit slip, I went out next to him and told him to give me a little something of the region of my shoulders and neck. He did, and the amount of pain I felt tells me that I really need a full massage. So, I am going to see him on Thursday for that reason.
Someone from WSU called me today to tell me that they're still waiting on my third letter of recommendation-the one coming from my Arabic instructor at OCC whom I've been asking about it since like November. I guess I'll have to call and harass him until he does it.
I went back to Purgatory for dinner yesterday. I asked the elder of my sists what she had meant when she said my younger sist was like clinically depressed. It's something I've seen coming since she was a child, and the symptoms just keep becoming more and more evident the older she gets. I feel like I should talk to her about it, but there are two major complications: 1) My family does not speak to one another about anything aside from the most mundane topics 2) who in the fuck am I to counsel anyone on how to deal with depression? I haven't exactly done a great job with it myself. When a friend of mines called me a month or two ago feeling suicidal (or so he said; I doubt that he actually got to that point) I of course couldn't give him any assurance that life will get any better, bla bla bla, because I possess a disorder that tells me that it won't.
My broth called me today saying that he needs a loan. If he got one through my bank, the interest rate would be 13.5%. I could of course loan him the money he needs myself, but then I would have very little of my savings left for myself, and I have no idea how long it would take to get that money back. I never know when I might need my savings; I might need to bail Mathew out of jail at any given moment or have to be able to support myself if I outright quit my job until I find another one. Bah.
or,
Fuck I am so confused
Fuck I am so confused about so much. I am so confused about how Steven could simply not show up for work for three days as if there won't be consequences-not having income, not having insurance, having to pay back the money he received for tuition reimbursement, etc. I'm just worrying myself sick imagining him engaged in some deep emotional turmoil but being too proud to talk about it. Fuck, see a doctor and get some pills.
This guy David came into the bank today, whom I know both as a customer there and as a member of the YMCA. He recently finished whatever is needed to become a certified massage therapist, and of course, he offered me a free massage. I wasn't terribly excited about the prospect of having a man's hands put all over me in such a context, but I really don't care at this point. I need a massage. He came in to the bank today, and as he was filling out his deposit slip, I went out next to him and told him to give me a little something of the region of my shoulders and neck. He did, and the amount of pain I felt tells me that I really need a full massage. So, I am going to see him on Thursday for that reason.
Someone from WSU called me today to tell me that they're still waiting on my third letter of recommendation-the one coming from my Arabic instructor at OCC whom I've been asking about it since like November. I guess I'll have to call and harass him until he does it.
I went back to Purgatory for dinner yesterday. I asked the elder of my sists what she had meant when she said my younger sist was like clinically depressed. It's something I've seen coming since she was a child, and the symptoms just keep becoming more and more evident the older she gets. I feel like I should talk to her about it, but there are two major complications: 1) My family does not speak to one another about anything aside from the most mundane topics 2) who in the fuck am I to counsel anyone on how to deal with depression? I haven't exactly done a great job with it myself. When a friend of mines called me a month or two ago feeling suicidal (or so he said; I doubt that he actually got to that point) I of course couldn't give him any assurance that life will get any better, bla bla bla, because I possess a disorder that tells me that it won't.
My broth called me today saying that he needs a loan. If he got one through my bank, the interest rate would be 13.5%. I could of course loan him the money he needs myself, but then I would have very little of my savings left for myself, and I have no idea how long it would take to get that money back. I never know when I might need my savings; I might need to bail Mathew out of jail at any given moment or have to be able to support myself if I outright quit my job until I find another one. Bah.