I feel bitterness moving in.
I work harder than anyone at the office and get paid the least. Not sure what I can do about that but I fear making it seem I’m complaining and want a lighter load, when I want the responsibility, I just want to be paid in proportion to my work. There’s one other person at my work without the workload and pressure and she makes more than I do. I’m becoming resentful — I juggle a huge workload.
I hope to buy a house, but when I do the math, I cannot afford one. If I buy a very, very modest home in the neighborhood I desire, I’ll pay about $1,100 a month. I only bring home $900 every two weeks — that would be very tight living. My car is 15 years old, but paid for. I have no debt except the unavoidable things, cell phone, for example. But I would have trash, electricity, water, yard care, home upkeep, car upkeep, and oh yeah, food. I might not qualify for a loan that size.
Thanks to the “California effect” and that this is a college town, house prices are out of touch with our wages. This has been a common complaint in town for years and years.
The ex and I have a lawsuit that I hoped would help me prepare for home buying. Even if it’s just $10,000 or $20,000 I’d be grateful and put it to good use. But our lawyer seems to be losing interest and it’s not going anywhere. I was really hoping I could use some of that to give my daughter a decent 40th birthday present, but now have no idea if or when it will come.
I feel embarrassed that I don’t make more even though I thought it was a decent wage at the time. The truth is, at this wage, I cannot afford to buy even the most modest home, so is it a living wage? No, I guess not. I am being penalized because I do not have a man with a second income. That sucks.
I don’t want to buy a condo, I find the HOA dues appalling, and the HOA people are almost as bad.
I am far too fearful to move out of town, I’d be afraid for my life every night when I went to bed. I’m not asking for much. I’m asking for a two bedroom, one bath.
I really miss my stuff, man. I miss it a lot. I want to come home and make WHAT I WANT TO MAKE FOR DINNER, FOR FUCK’S SAKE.
I do have a small business idea that I can try out just to see if I can supplement my income, it’s just that right now I’m overwhelmed with work and I’m tired. I keep thinking it’d be better to wait until the new year, but I don’t know if it will. If I’m going to start a business that will help make me look like I can earn more, I need it to do just that — earn!
I’ve talked about it for ages. Using my last gold ring to jump start a small business that I can do on nights and weekends, but I seem too fearful to take the plunge, even though it’s just a ring that I could lose. Sad thing is I paid $4,300 for it several years ago and probably would be lucky to get $2,000 now. Still, I think that’s enough to start my business. It would be hard to do it from my parent’s home. There’s just no room here.
So the ex and I haven’t spoken on the phone for a couple of months, at least, but tonight we began texting and emailing regarding the case. I decided I needed to talk to him because I didn’t want what I had to say be in print so I wrote, “I’m calling you.” And he wrote, “Wait.” “Just a sec.” And my imagination got the better of me. Just what the fuck is he so busy doing that he can’t talk to me about the ONE thing that might save his ass in the next year? Well, he could be fucking his 27 year old girlfriend. Or out drinking and partying. Or any number of things. So I went insane and wrote, “Never mind. You don’t need my input.”
And here I am after all this time feeling anything but MEH because he is not alone, like I am. He has never been alone in the two years since d-day. I have been alone, always. And I fucking hate his guts for that.
I haven’t known the touch of someone I love. I haven’t laughed with anyone.
I can’t read ChumpLady website anymore. I can’t be happy for someone who begins to date. I can’t be happy for the woman who got her house in the divorce. I can’t be happy because I got fucking nothing in fact I got fucked over. FUCK YOU WOMEN WHO GET ON WITH YOUR LIVES!
Then I realize that I’m far better off than some. And I’m a big fat whiner to complain at all. I am really hating myself.
Please, if you read this, don’t tell me I’m kind — I don’t feel kind. I don’t feel good or decent. I feel greedy and small. I should be looking at this from a different perspective, but right now I am blind.
We have tomorrow off from work. I should be thrilled! A paid day off! But I’ve got nothing to do and no one to do it with and I’m so fucking tired of that.
I’m fat. My clothes don’t fit. I’m killing myself with food.
I’m going to spend tomorrow looking for that righteous indignation I felt for so long after he dumped me. I felt I could accomplish anything somehow. It’s just that reality is hard. Getting up every day at 6:15 is hard. Answering phones at 58 is hard. I feel like a loser.
Let’s face it. I am a woman who made many, many mistakes that put me where I am today. The buck stops here. I feel such shame. I can’t recall the reasons it’s important for me to go on. What am I trying to prove, anyway?
ok. ok. i remembered i need to ask God to help. I looked up on my shelf and saw the November church calendar. On Weds., morning there is a mass. I’ve always wanted to go to it but never had a Weds. off. Now I know how I’ll start my day tomorrow and it doesn’t start until 9:30 so I don’t have to get up at the crack of dawn.
that’s what I’ll do.