Call it the effects of withdrawal; call it loneliness, or maybe what me and my old NC roomie T used to call "the Monday bus"; or maybe the effects of not getting any in quite a while; or maybe the bullshit details and annoyances of my life all converging on me at once...
Whatever you want to call it, I am having one of those nights where the main thought in my mind is clear and repetitive:
What a fucking mess I've made of my life.
I did the bills last night and I'm SO not going to make it this month. LJ's income has dried up, as the Maywood police are riding down hard and making life uncomfortable for everyone. Meanwhile, I can see clear signs of deterioration in the kitchen ceiling, where the drywall has been off for 6 months now as part of the repairs--and Bob the plumber, who has been "going to come tomorrow and work on that" now since April, isn't answering his phone. I would be fine with that--after all, I could get someone else--IF he hadn't guilt-tripped me into paying in advance!!
A bit of history seems to be in order: Bob had a partner, see, and he and his partner were trying to start a business together. Then suddenly some "rich guy" they'd done work for allegedly stiffed them on a check, and Bob told me they couldn't finish doing my work unless I paid for materials. Now, I'd been paying labor and materials all along, in what seemed to me to be fairly exorbitant amounts, but if it came down to paying them more or not getting the work done, I reasoned, it would be better to pay. Shortly thereafter, with only about 15% of the agreed-upon work done, their partnership fell apart when the other guy started stealing work from under Bob's nose, and the situation deteriorated further when it was discovered that the other guy was also back on the dope. THEN Bob got those kidney stones; then Jay, his son, did some of the work, but he fucked it up--I KNEW he was fucking it up, and I tried to call Bob to have him deal with it, but Bob was too busy. Then Bob's wife put Jay out of the house, and so now it's only Bob doing the work. So Bob was supposed to come out Friday, with some other guy who apparently knows about situations like this. Friday comes--nothing. I call, Friday evening, and am told that Bob is in St. Louis where his brother's gallstone surgery has just gone horribly wrong, leaving him on life support. But--I am told--his wife will bring the Other Guy Who Knows About These Things on Saturday. Saturday afternoon is waning when I call and am told "I didn't want to bring this guy over without Bob, after all the other stuff you've been through with people other than Bob." (I manage NOT to say "The main stuff I've been through has been Bob repeatedly blowing me off and not calling!" but I was sorely tempted.) Anyway, she tells me "I'll call you tomorrow morning around 11 and let you know what's going on." Around 2, I call--and get Bob, clearly asleep. "Let me call you back in a while," he says. It is now nearly 11 PM, and despite several calls and messages on MY part, I have heard nothing.
Needless to say, I'm fed up; also needless to say, I very much doubt I would get a dime of my money back, even if I asked. So I am forced to remain on their schedule, or lack thereof. So I feel like a total dumbass.
Then there's the whole work thing. I DREAD going back tomorrow.
In fact, that's the whole thing in a nutshell: I dread EVERYTHING right now. There is literally not a single area of my life with which I'm satisfied. And I am NOT normally a malcontent. I am one of those people who can generally find some sort of positive outcome in everything--but right now I feel like not a single thing is going right. And it just flat-out sucks. I can't get my house fixed because I have no money. I can't get any more money because I'm stuck in this miserable dysfunctional job environment and I have too many obligations to make a change. I can't get the training to move to a different career because I don't have the money. My guy is great in basically-practical ways, but as far as moral support, affection, or pulling his own weight--not so much. I've made financial decisions based on his assurances which are now leaving me in a bad situation because he's not able to hold up his end of the bargain. I love him but he's totally indifferent to me, it seems, and I'm afraid to leave him because...well, let's face facts here: I'm 34 years old, pretty unattractive and not really willing to change; most of the guys who WOULD want me, wouldn't want me for ME, just for what I've got. (In other words--more of the same, seems like. I don't THINK LJ is using me--but then again, the net effect is the same.) And I have this hell-hole of a house, which is beginning to symbolize in my mind every single misjudgement, deficiency, and mistake I've ever made. Every time I look at this house, which is supposed to be my prized possession, I feel like a failure and an idiot. I did everything that common sense and research said I should do: I had an inspector, I listened to his recommendations, I made my wishes very clear, and demanded verification of everything I knew to verify--and I STILL got fucked over!!! If I could get it FIXED--if I could just have a sense that actual PROGRESS is being made--then I would feel better...but I can't even get THAT right!! I pick someone out--from the phone book--listen to them talk about all the things they can do, and pay them to do those things--and then for months I get fucked around because he "needs to put food on the table" with other projects that HAVEN't already paid them. And then he assures me "oh, I'm not pushing you to the back of the list"---Dumbass, that's EXACTLY what you just admitted that you WERE doing!!
I look back into my life, and I wonder where, exactly, things went wrong. I look back at who I was in high school, dating Chris, with his life all planned out already--a life that included me--but I had to go and see what else was out there. I used to think I had made the right decisions, or at least, the decisions that were right for ME--leaving Chris, leaving Dave when I realized what a mistake that was, getting together with JP; after losing JP, I thought I was at least doing my best to salvage things--changing careers, getting this job--then once CR came along, I knew I was back on the wrong track but I couldn't quite bring myself to change it because I thought he needed me, that I could help him. Once he left for the last time, I was doing so well--got my credit straight, got approved for a mortgage, met LJ (who seemed so different)...
Every time I think I'm doing the right thing, every time I do ANYTHING that seems to be right for me--it generally turns out to be a cataclysmic fuck-up. And I wonder: Where will it end? Because frankly, as strong as I am and as strong as I've tried to be, I'm running out of resources here. I no longer know why the hell I'm trying so hard. I don't know why I get up and go to work every day--since it doesn't give me any satisfaction, and it doesn't pay me enough to make my bills AND afford the things I'd enjoy. I don't know why I go out of my way to do things for LJ, because he doesn't seem to notice, and it certainly doesn't make him love me...(He said he does. Once. In April. That's the first--and last--I've heard of it.)
It's all enough to make me wonder if maybe the shallow, superficial people have it right--don't fall in love, just go for what you can get out of someone. Get some man with a high-paying job and then you won't have to pay your own bills anymore--spend all your money on yourself. Train your man to do everything you tell him, and act like a bitch whenever you want....Those women never seem to get used; those women never seem to get cheated on; those women never sleep alone, and when one man leaves them they always seem to get another. And when they go to work, people respect them--nobody fucks with them, and they can suck up with impunity. (I'm thinking of Nancy, for one.)
Of course, I'm operating at a deficit anyway; to get away with THAT, I'd have to be thin and pretty and fashionable. And there aren't enough diets, personal trainers, fashion consultants, plastic surgeons, or miracles in the world to get me to THAT point. Psychologists, maybe--or hypnotists, or brainwashers. I just don't CARE. I have NEVER cared. I went through a brief hair-and-makeup stage in high school, because I wanted to fit in; the only person who ever made me care about clothes was JP, because he made it so clear that it didn't matter to him HOW I looked, that he'd love me anyway (but that he'd be more than happy to play stylist, if I'd be the Barbie doll). LJ, on the other hand--he doesn't give a shit WHAT I wear, or if I wear ANYTHING. He's got more important things to do. And what's the point of trying to look good, if I never get to go anywhere but work?
I really, REALLY want to take tomorrow off--but then I'm sure I'd get some snotty phone call, or some nasty remark from Beverly when I went back. And honestly, in the state of mind I'm currently in, one more snotty Beverly remark might just be enough to put me over the top, to make me quit once and for all. And then--if it's even POSSIBLE--I'd be more fucked than I am right now.
I'm going to bed. I can't handle being awake anymore right now.
No comments:
Post a Comment