down, down, down

I have once again let the pressure of giving at Christmas take me deeper into a financial hole. It makes me feel so good to give to people. Then I am left with this horrible feeling of failure for not being able to stay afloat afterwards.

I am seriously sinking here. I thought I had money coming from Hubs. He had told me he would put money in my bank account. Thinking that, I went ahead and withdrew $200 that wasn't in there to buy Christmas gifts. I ended up with a $35 overdraft charge and then because I didn't bring the account into the positive within a week I got another $35 charged for an EXTENDED overdraft fee! Now I am $270 in the hole with no way to bring the account back up unless we don't eat for a month.

I felt so good on Christmas morning watching my kids enjoy their gifts!

Now I feel like a total loser because I am feeding them peanut butter and jelly, and macNcheese every night.

Life sucks no matter what I do. I am falling into a really bad depression right now. REALLY REALLY bad!

Questions without answers

warning: this post is rated NC-17, or at least a strong R. If you don't want to read some of the details of Hub's sex addiction antics, stop reading now.

Hub is out of town for a few weeks for work. This is what led me to my worry about him "acting out". (i really need a better term than that one) There is just something about the combination of Hub and a hotel that I just don't like.

I should say that I have never had any sort of proof that his SA has gone beyond porn, internet chat rooms, private online chats, and phone calls. No proof, but serious reason to believe it has anyway. Whatever.... my point is that mostly I only have to worry about him doing stupid shit on the internet or the phone. When he is home, at least I know where he is even if I don't know exactly what he is doing. For the most part anyway.


When he is out of town for work, I have no way of knowing where he is or what he is doing. The worst of my concerns comes in the form of the hotel bar. You see, I do know from past experiences that Hubs greatest fantasies revolve around meeting strange women and having wild and rough sex with them. His phone calls and chats all involve different scenarios like that. His #1 place for these fantasies to take place is a hotel bar! He has even asked me to role-play those types of encounters with him before. Yes, I have done so. At first I thought it was fun and exciting, then I thought it was lame and stupid, and finally I thought it was sick and twisted, but most of all it just felt insulting. But, I am getting off the point again. so....
My concern is that Hub will be spending his nights in the hotel bar looking to play out those fantasies of his for real.

I haven't had to worry about this happening for a very long time. But, Hub is once again working in sports. While we needed the money, I am not happy about it at all. I hate when he is on the road. It is like poison for our marriage. And, quite frankly, the money isn't even that great because he is working in a very minor league. Nothing like what he earned before and certainly not enough to get us out of the hole we are in. So why? Why even put our marriage through this for so little? I don't know the answer to that. Maybe it is a test for both of us. Can we handle it? Can he be put in the path of temptation and resist? Can I deal with not knowing and still find a way to trust?

I am all questions and no answers these days.

A different kind of enabling

Hub is my enabler. Ya, he is mine. This is a new realization for me. I can't help but wonder.... what the hell took me so long to see this???

Since losing my job back in early 2008, I have had sporadic bouts of employment. The first was a pretty decent opportunity in a physician's office. I worked there for about two weeks. I spent nearly every day of those two weeks complaining about how poorly I was being trained for my position and how I felt like I wasn't catching on the way I should. After two weeks of my complaining, Hub said, "if you don't like it there, just quit". I did.

I started the next job almost immediately. It was an early morning shift at a fast food place. I had actually been offered this one just days before being offered the office job and backed out when I got the better offer. After quitting the first job, I talked to the manager at the fast food place, fed him a line of bullshit as to why I didn't come to work for him. He bought it. (I am an extremely talented bullshit artist. So much so that it is really not in my best interest to use this particular talent.) It seemed logical that working in fast food would not require a lot of deep thought or need for real knowledge and therefor would be relatively stress free. I didn't feel inadequate like I did at the office job. It was indeed fairly simple. Take orders, run the register, bag some food, wipe counters, blah blah blah. It was in fact very, very blah. I would find myself completely done with all my work and still had hours left to go on my shift. That place was shiny clean from top to bottom, which is saying a lot considering how it looked on my first day, after about a month of working there. I told Hub repeatedly how bored I was there. He told me, "No shit! I knew you would hate it. If you don't like it there, just quit". I did.

It was several months later when a very good opportunity came along. Very good. Great pay, better insurance, opportunity to advance, and it was in the field I had worked for several years before getting the axe. It was the perfect job. What was even better was that I hadn't even applied for the job. They came looking for me based on a resume I had posted at one of those online job sites. I was the perfect candidate for the position. I went through all the training and background clearances. I began searching for daycare for Tot. I interviewed two different places. One was a daycare center and it was pretty pricey. The other was a home daycare. I spent an hour in this woman's home and witnessed her kid getting away with attempted murder while another little boy was yelled at if he even thought about breathing. Not a place I was going to take my son. I began to worry about finding the right place to take Tot. I'd be worried no matter what, but with the added effects of an autism spectrum disorder I was terrified of leaving him the hands of a stranger. I shared those concerns with Hub. He told me, "I'd rather you were home with him anyway. Just call and tell them you can't take the job". I did.

The latest job was this past summer. I referred to it as "the monkey job", as in a monkey could do it. (I mentioned it back in this post) Of course I wasn't happy about that fact, but I was willing to deal with it. I hated my supervisor. Hate is a strong word, but I'm standing by it in this case. The people I worked with were unfriendly. I was miserable. Naturally, I shared all this with Hub. He told me, "If you hate it so much, just quit". I didn't. Not right away at least. I stuck it out for a little while. There were days I wanted to just keep on driving and never turn back rather than go to work, but I went. There were days I was literally on the verge of tears, but I continued to go back. Then one day, I just couldn't do it anymore. Hub had told me repeatedly that I should quit if I was so unhappy there, so I knew he'd back up my decision. I left and never went back.

I have so much more to say about the monkey job, but that is a post for another day. This one is about my enabler. My husband who for two years now has enabled my habit of quitting jobs. There are so many mental and emotional factors that go into "why" I can't hold a job. I need strong support to work through them and beat them. I need encouragement to keep a job, to hang in there until I get past the mental blocks that make me want to run. Instead, I get the enabling statement of "just quit".

I have gone back and forth on how I viewed Hub's willingness to have me quit jobs. I have thought of it as him being very supportive of me and my feelings. I have thought of it as his way of keeping me financially unable to ever leave him. I think though, that this time I really hit on what it really is. He is my enabler. Here we are yet again, co-existing in co-dependency.

The Cup of Cappuccino

It's amazing how one little event can take what was promising to be a pretty good day and make it total shit. I had such a day this past week.

Dot and Sonny went to visit their dad for a couple of days after being home for two straight weeks, which with two teenager can feel like two years. Two years of constantly bored, constantly hungry, picking on each other, whiny, bossy, bitchy torture.

Hub and I were getting along amazingly well, actually speaking to each other rather than quietly passing each other by. We even made plans to go out to dinner.

Even more amazing is the fact that it was nearly 4pm and Tot had been meltdown free and well behaved. Yes, it was a good day. Until...

I was standing in the middle of the living room when I noticed the cappuccino cup. It had started off that morning as mine. Hub had gone to get himself a coffee and for some reason I asked him to pick me up a cappuccino. This is not something I would normally drink in the middle of August with temperatures in the hundreds everyday. And yet, I asked for one. I drank about half of it, truly enjoy the deliciousness, before I began to pool with sweat and gave it up. I offered the remainder to Dot who accepted it, took a few swallows and then left the rest behind as she headed out the door to go to her father's.

Now, here I was, staring at the cup of cappuccino sitting on the corner of Tot's little table. A table meant for snack time, coloring and building blocks. Not a table meant to be a place for people to set drinks of any kind. At the moment my eyes fell upon that cup I knew, I knew, it was going to spill. Sure enough, not a second had passed by after having that thought when I saw Tot was not more than a foot from the table. I managed to get the word, "Don't...." out before it happened.

Tot swung his blanket, his trusty friend who never leaves his side, in the air like a lasso. Then blanket, that little blue thorn in my side, whipped out and knocked the cup of cappaccino off the table. It wasn't enough that it spilled though. Oh no! It had to land directly on the laptop which had been tucked away between the table and the couch. It didn't just land on the computer though. Of course it didn't. It landed in such a way that the opening in the lid was now pouring directly into the air vents on the back of the laptop. It didn't matter that I reacted with lightening speed and dashed across the room faster than Superman could have, I still wasn't quick enough. Kharma had landed that cup in that exact position to pour out the cappuccino in a steady stream, in exactly the right spot on the laptop to do the most damage. And it all happened in about 4.2 seconds.

The computer was fried.
But it wasn't our computer.
No. Our computer was in the shop being repaired.
This was the loaner computer.

We were now faced with not only having to pay for the repairs on our own computer, but having to pay for the loaner computer as well.

Hub and I getting along amazingly well? The two of us actually talking to each other? That stopped realy quick. Right after I asked the question, "do you ever feel like you're cursed?" and he answered with "every day of my life". Ya, that will put a halt on the conversation. I mean, how do you respond to that? "Thanks honey. Life with you is one big freaking curse too."

That dinner we had planned? That sure as hell didn't happen.

Depressing

I am feeling very depressed lately. Not clinical depression. Not the stuff that can be fixed with medication. Maybe it can be disguised with meds, but not fixed. I've considered the meds. It won't do me any good though. Not really. It might make me feel better. Might. It won't cure me of the depression. That's what I really want. What I need. Cured.

Masking the problems is a quick fix. One I don't want. I just want the crap in my life that is making me depressed to go away. Pills won't do that.

Sometimes depression is a chemical imbalance in your brain. Sometimes it's just a condition of life. That is what mine is. Sometimes your life just sucks so bad that it gets you down. Really down. That's where I am at right now. Life sucks.

I'd stay in bed all day if it were an option. Sleeping is good. When I am asleep I don't have to face the harsh realities of life. I don't have to think about the bills that aren't getting paid. I don't have to think about the fact that I don't have money to buy the kids clothes and shoes for school. I don't even have the money to buy them school supplies like paper and pens and pencils. When I am sleeping I don't have to worry that the car will be repo'd or that the electricity will be shut off.

It's not all financial worries. There is still the crap with Hub. I've been doing a good job of burying my head in the sand and not thinking about his SA. Sometimes something will happen that triggers me and I get into the freak out mode over it all. Mostly though I just avoid it all. Try not to think about it and pretend it doesn't exist. It's getting easier to do. That's probably not a good thing though. That gets me depressed too. Thinking about how my marriage has become such a farce that I don't even care what Hub does or doesn't do anymore. I should care, but I don't. That is depressing.

I have been spending a good deal of time hiding from real life lately. The internet is a great tool for that. Why face real life when you can get lost in a false life online? (sigh) That's depressing too. Playing stupid games on the internet to escape reality? That's sad and pathetic. It's depressing.

Life is just.... depressing!

open hearts

I read the address on the piece of paper again. I was familiar with the street name but it was not one I generally drove on. In fact, in certain parts of town at least, it was a street I avoided. It ran through downtown and I had been on that part of the street before. It was an area full of shops, restaurants and clubs. However the further North you traveled on this street the further into the part of town I avoided you went.

That was where I was going now. Beyond my comfort zone and into a part of town I had spent the past twenty years avoiding. Avoiding it first because my parents avoided it and then as I was old enough to navigate the city myself, avoiding it by my own choice. There was no way to avoid it now though. The address was right there on the crumpled piece of paper beside me on the seat. This was where I had to go.

My twelve year old son sat in the passenger seat, keeping an eye out for addresses on the rundown buildings we were passing. We came to a twisted intersection with streets going at random angles from each other on the opposite sides. "Ok, where do we go now?" I asked quietly. My son pointed to a street twisting a bit to the Northwest, "I think this street continues over there" he said. I smiled over at him, "I think you're right buddy. Thanks."


I kept the irony of the situation to myself. The reason for the twisting jumble and randomness of direction each road took was the railroad tracks. The tracks cut through in such a way that the roads could not continue on in a straight pattern. The irony? We were crossing over the tracks. How many times had I heard the expression "the wrong side of the tracks". Well, we were certainly headed for the wrong side of the tracks now.

A few short blocks up the road I saw the building we were looking for. Open Hearts Ministries. That was the name on the paper at my side. Crumpled from the days I had picked it up reading it again and again, telling myself it hadn't come to this. There was no way I was really going to have to do this. That morning I had opened the cupboards and realized that, yes, I really did have to do this. A couple of packs of instant noodles and a half jar of peanut butter stared back at me, telling me it was time.

I found a spot to park, it was the last one. The lot was full. We were not the only family here for help. Still, I felt less than myself. Less than what I should be. This was not a place we belonged. We were not the kind of people that needed help like this. As we walked to the building I reminded myself that we were. We were exactly the kind of people that needed the help. It didn't make us less, just like it didn't make any of these people less. It's easier to tell yourself these things than it is to make yourself believe them.

We walked in and saw two rows of chairs facing each other. Many of the seats were already taken. At the end of the rows was a small desk. Already standing at the desk was a woman with a small child and behind her a man on his own. I got in line behind them, telling my son to find us a couple of seats.

When it was my turn at the desk the woman asked if I had ever been there before. "No," was my answer. She handed me a sheet of paper and a pencil and told me to fill the form out bring it back up to her. I sat down next to my son and filled out the paperwork. It was simple, really not much to it. Names and ages of everyone in the house, income and source of income, a few things like that. The last line of the form asked "why do you need assistance?". My hands had been shaking the whole time I had been filling out the form. Now my whole body began to shake. Why do I need assistance? I had been asking myself that very question. Why was I at this point in my life? What had brought me down to this? What if I had only made different choices? I know that is not what they were looking for with this simple question on their form, but it was the information I had been looking for in my mind for months.

I finished the form by writing that I had lost my job and had not been able to find a new one yet. Then I took the form to the lady at the desk and she said they would call me back soon. I had never done anything like this before so I payed close attention to what everyone else was doing. No one really looked around much. They would quietly talk to the people with them or stare down at their own feet. Nobody made eye contact. They all felt like me I decided. None of them felt like this was where they belonged. None of them knew the answers to why they were really here.

I noticed that when your name was called you went off to the right with someone. Just a few short minutes later you would come out and go to a different waiting area. It was just a few more minutes after that your name would be called again and you would go through a door. It seemed a quick process once it got started. I looked over at my son and told him it shouldn't be too long and we would be out of there. He smiled at me and started talking about school. I knew he was trying to distract me, and probably himself, from the reality of where we were and what we were doing. He is an amazingly good kid.

The man who had been in front of me in line was called back. Things were moving quickly. We would be next. It was just another minute and my name was called. We got up and went with an older man off the right. We sat down at a desk where he asked for proof of our address and income. I dug out the things I had brought with me from my purse. He went to make copies and was back quickly. He chatted with my son just a bit about his school as I signed a couple of things and then he told us to go to the far waiting area. We made our way out and sat as close to the big door as we could get. When my name was called I just wanted to get through that door and out of there as quickly as I could.

Less than a minute later my name was called and we stepped through the door. We walked into a hallway and were pointed to a window just a few steps down. There in the window was a woman with a smile and three big bags of groceries. The man in the hallway offered to help us out to the car with them. We accepted his help and walked quickly to the car where we put the bags in the trunk. "Bless You," the man said as he walked back inside.

We got into the car and I was about to start it when I noticed my son glance back to the trunk where the bags were sitting. "Why don't you climb back there and see if there is anything you can snack on while we drive home" I told him. He dove into the back seat and began to dig through the bags. He rattled off items as he sifted through them. "There are frozen pizzas and eggs and couple loaves of bread. There's a bunch of canned stuff too." Then he dug into another bag. "Cinnamon rolls!" he shouted. "Well bring them up here" I told him. He sat back down in his seat and opened the package. "Let's split one," I told him "so you and your brother and sister can have the rest for breakfast tomorrow." He carefully tore one in half and handed me a piece before biting into his own half.

We drove home talking about how good the cinnamon rolls tasted and then about school some more. The mood was different on the drive home than it had been on the way there. The dreaded task was over. I had walked into the Open Hearts Ministry and asked for food to feed my children. It had been hard to do. Hard to accept that I needed to do it. Now it was done and my heart was lighter. My mind at peace, even if just for a little while. I had done what I needed to do and now I knew that I could do it again if I had to. And today...
today my kids would eat well.