| [ |
mood |
| |
exhausted, drained, fucked up |
] |
. . . . .
What a weekend... so, to make a long & pathetic story short:
* My grandmother's in the hospital with congestive heart failure but should be okay -- found out about it yesterday morning, when I was about to get ready to go out visiting family for Easter. So instead of visiting her at home in the morning, I visited her at the hospital in the evening, after going to my mom's for dinner.
* Decided today would be the day I'd start tackling my Income Tax return, since I have less than a week to file it. Didn't wake up until noon, give or take. Attempted to go to my ex-shrink's office to pay off part of my outstanding balance but the receptionist (who is almost never there -- not sure what the fucking point of having her on-staff is) wasn't THERE, so it was a wasted trip.
Went home to make some phone calls, gathered some paperwork, then figured I'd get down to business. I didn't think it would take TOO long -- I bought some tax-return software & figured it would be relatively easy. Lo and behold, I couldn't find my W-2s (even though I could have sworn up and down that I kept 'em in my wallet). Called my work's Human Resources to request another copy of them, & they said it wouldn't be mailed until fucking Wednesday morning, & from then would take 5-10 business days to arrive. Flipped out at that point and spent some time screaming, throwing things (I think I broke an alarm clock), and wondering aloud what the fuck is wrong with me and that I must be literally fucking brain damaged, since I can't ever get my shit together OR remember where I put things, even the things I had made a POINT to not lose. L eventually found the ones I had lost -- they were in the bag I usually carry (which I had already checked). Had a little breakdown after that, but regrouped. Took a crack at the Tax return software; pretty much wrapped things up several hours later, by which time the sun had already gone down.
L & I did a little food-shopping, made dinner, watched a movie. Cleaned up the kitchen but had a bit more of a breakdown while L took out the trash. I don't know wtf is wrong with me lately, I've been taking my St. John's Wort supplements and everything but I feel like I just can't cope. I feel sad and scared and overwhelmed and helpless like a child. I don't know how the fuck other people make it through their days. I mean, this was kind of an exceptionally bad day but the feelings that go along with it are too much to bear sometimes, I can't handle them and I really have no idea what to do. I can't afford to go to therapy anymore; I hate my job but I can't afford to leave it. I don't want another job because I'll hate it just as much if not more. Oh well, I better get some sleep because I have to drag my carcass off to work tomorrow, speaking of which. I hate this fucking life.
. . . . .
|