I don’t think I can do this, you guys. I haven’t made a cent I didn’t a have to immediately turn around and spend on business or household shit . I’m losing money just by being in this apartment breathing. And today I found out that because I did actually work at some point since the lay-off, I can’t file my claim online like everybody else that sat on their asses getting daytime drunk. I have to hand fill a paper form and mail it in to Northern California for processing.
Did you know that due to sequestration unemployment employees only answer phones until noon? That’s something I learned today at 3 p.m. And then I called a different number and got a man who was only helpful because he was able to confirm that the idiotic thing I thought was happening was actually totally happening. At least he agreed it was stupid.
God I would hate to have his job.
I feel like shit. I’ve worked every waking hour of every weekday and most waking hours of the weekends and what do I have? Not enough money to pay our grocery bill let alone the fucking rent on this apartment that we hate, but that we refuse to move out of because our lease converted to month to month and we’ve been hoping against hope that the next place we move will be away from Los Angeles to some mythical land that has breathable air and bike lanes.
Ben has been sick since I got laid off. I would say that it’s almost like all the stress is flowing into him and skipping me if I hadn’t just spent last night fully awake and terrified at the specter of my own epic failure. I am clearly delusional for thinking that anybody as stupid as me would be able to pull off anything remotely successful. I mean, who do I think I am, BEYONCÉ OR SOMETHING?
Jesus I’m sleepy but I feel like I can’t breathe at all. Everything’s turning to shit. It’s just a matter of time before Ben dies of his stress or starts drinking alcoholically and I’m the only single mom at Hooters with a PRWeek Award nomination.
The other PRWeek Award nominated Hooters girls will of course have had the good sense to get a damn abortion. But not me. Obviously I make bad decisions about where to invest my time and attention.
And no, I’m not pregnant. I’m just saying that totally would be the next thing to go wrong. Not only am I ruining my life and Ben’s, but the life a third, completely new person who never did anything to me except decide to be ovulated at the exact wrong second.
I hear ya girl. 17 days. 17 days and I will have been unemployed for a year. I’m waiting for the day where someone tells me there is something wrong with me, or the way I interview, instead of telling me that “You did great, they just decided to pass on you at this time.”
I wish I could tell you that it gets easier…but I haven’t found that to be true yet. All I can say is have hope. Try not to ever lose that.
Thanks. It’s a struggle to not get overwhelmed. But I keep plugging away.