Blues

I was doing so well. Okay, for a week I was doing well. My therapist and I had set up a plan for me to follow, so I could get a little done every day without feeling too overwhelmed. And I was actually able to stick to it. For, as I said, about a week.

Then came the holidays. With their frantic preparations--yes, even in this economically distressed time we had some preparations--and their manic cooking sprees and building of gingerbread houses and what have you. And I got off track.

And now I find myself stuck again. Mired. Swamped.

And on top of it, a bad case of the post holiday blues. Some bad things happened--our refrigerator died, for one thing. And though M.'s parents were kind enough and generous enough to take us to Sears and buy us a new one, well, I can't get over the fact that all these disasters seem to keep hitting us below the belt. (I also feel so guilty that we keep needing them to support us and we can't do it ourselves, but truly M. has looked everywhere for work and there is none to be found. Really none.)

And we had no money to buy gifts for one another let alone anyone else. we couldn't even send cards.

I don't care about receiving gifts so much, but giving them means a lot to me.

And we are seriously overdrawn at the bank and all our bills are coming in and I haven't paid my psychiatrist in goddess knows how long...I can't take the stress of having no money much longer. In fact, I had a total breakdown in M.s lap the other night--not just about money, but about everything. I'm tired. I'm tired of following this stupid diet but being too afraid of being fat to go off of it. I'm tired of being hungry all the time. I'm tired of being poor. I'm tired of being depressed. So many things. Tired of being stressed. Tired of being tired.

I say I can't take the stress of having no money much longer but what am I supposed to do about it? i wish I could just break into a million tiny pieces. But I've never been any good at that--always too controlled--and now the meds make it damn near impossible. No: really impossible. Even when I was having my total breakdown the other night I couldn't really cry. I hate that.

Everything is going to hell in a handbasket. And I can't cry.

Oh, feck this.