In kind of a self-sorry funk today. My May support never arrived from Fareed, and here it is nearly June. I can’t pay my phone bill and may not make it the weekend without my internet, cable and phone being cutoff. I fucking hate being so dependent upon someone who doesn’t care. And I won’t have my son here this holiday weekend to distract me from my mood. Elihu gets on a plane today and joins his father – they meet at O’Hare. Dad gets in from London and Elihu from Albany. Hope it all works. Can’t fret about that. It’ll be fine. Now my kid has a watch, a cell phone and a good book. And good sense. He’ll be fine. As for me, I’m left with lots of pasta in my pantry, but just about five bucks in my pocket. And I’m pretty pissed about it.
I am sinking today, I admit it. I’m angry at Fareed for leaving. I’m angry that he had another woman pregnant at the same time as me. I’m angry that he CCs me on emails that rejoice enthusiastically in the “family all being together” when he talks about plans for our son, his girlfriend, their kids and my parents-in-law to have dinner at the Pump Room in Chicago. I’m angry at his parents for not caring how we’re doing, for not offering to pay for half of Waldorf. I’m angry at myself for having no life outside of being a mom. I’m goddam tired of having a fucking rooster crow in my open window all fucking day long and not having the bread to fence him in properly. I’m tired of being two dress sizes too big. I’m tired of being poor. I’m tired of having no friends, tired of having no life. I miss making music. I wish I could play my Wurlitzer again with a band. I fucking miss the world I knew. Been here four years this coming August, and I still have no appreciable life to speak of. My son does – and this, of course, is the current priority – but I myself have little to look forward to, little to do that I enjoy. It really seems like all I do is the goddam dishes and the goddam laundry. I so wish I had a dishwasher. Must spend an hour a day washing goddam dishes, and seems there’s laundry every day. The only social life I have is when my piano students and their families come by. If it weren’t for them, I could go weeks without seeing another person besides my son.
Today I’ve fucking had it. And about the only thing that feels good is typing the expletive “fuck”.
I know I’ll feel better when some money arrives. I got paid for a lesson last night, and for a moment I almost felt as if I could breathe better. But it’ll barely pay for the gas to get to and from the airport today. So for the long weekend I got nothing. Not that I need it, I really don’t. And that’s the crazy thing about all this. When I think about it, having money or not is really all kind of abstract and makes no true sense. When I know I have no money at all, my whole being gets bummed out, depressed, deflated – and the future appears to hold no promise. So then I get some cash and somehow – it is indeed all an abstraction, an illusion – I feel better. My whole being feels lighter, less threatened. But in reality, the influx of money isn’t much; it doesn’t actually accomplish a lot. If it takes away the threat of having my electricity cutoff, that’s understandable, and if it replenishes my supply of toilet paper, that’s good too, so there are some tangible reasons for its ability to lift my spirits. But beyond that, it’s really only illusory. Nothing amazing and truly life-augmenting will come of the new cash flow. Yet somehow, it lifts me from my funk. It carries me, buoys my spirit, makes all things suddenly seem possible. It restores hope. Crazy, huh? Yes. Crazy.
I need to rise above this crap. But today, being hopeful and upbeat is not my natural state. Plus I thought there was so much happy talk here that it might not be such a bad idea to temper it with a post that was probably more in line with my mood much of the time. Yes, I’ll turn it around, and no I don’t live like this most of the time – but the poverty thing is always present, and try as I may to pretend I’m feeling great, doing ok and fed and clothed, etc, deep down I admit I harbor a bit of resentment about not having what I’d like to have – what I used to have. And I should be ashamed, I’ve got it good. My child and I aren’t hungry, we’re warm, clothed. I have a grand piano and my son has a fleet of RC helicopters. By some luck, for being broke, we got a lot goin for us. Yes, I know this. But today I’m indulging. Just today.
I’ll be back to hopeful again tomorrow. I promise.
8 thoughts on “F*ck This”
I hear you. Let it out and rage at the sky. I left a similar rant on FB a few months ago and some do gooder called the police on me, lol–and I wound up spending 5 days in the hospital courtesy of my insurance company (promptly released when the cursory 5 days payment ran out). Be careful with the online stuff especially via FB. Call your friends and family, do face to face and avoid the online ;). Much patience and strength to you meanwhile!! I know how you feel as do many whose lives are upside down right now–went to a local watering hole last night in my old hometown and ran into some old HS friends–everybody I used to know they’re all getting divorced or already are…all at different stages of he process and recovery. It’s a crazy world, but never doubt you’re an amazing person. I love your blog and the beauty within it!
thanks. i’m not terribly worried about being hospitalized or arrested. but thanks. appreciate the support. this is probably a one-time rant. probably.
I know how you feel…hang in there…
whether you’re a single mom or not, the laundry never stops and those pesky dishes never do themselves. ! then there’s that silly money thing.
big thanks for your emotional support.
I am a single mom with four boys…the laundry never ends, and the bathrooms?! I don’t think they will ever stay clean. Nope, not possible:) I always blame Alice (you know the one from Brady Bunch) for not doing her job. If I could find her, I would fire her…tee-hee…God bless…
four kids??? all boys?? wow. You’re the superstar here for sure. !!
I can’t imagine being in your financial situation. My family is living on my income alone, but my mother is there to help. I do know the depression that comes with financial trouble. It comes and goes. As the say goes ” one hundred years from now it will not matter what is my bank account. What will matter is the difference I made in the life of a child. You are a fantastic mom, and you will get your chance to be an individual again.
thank you so. I know so well that I’m not the only one working hard on very little income, and in no way is my workload dramatically more than any other mom, so thanks for witnessing my rant and still being so kind. thanks too for the reminder about the importance of being a good mom. It’s true, that’s really the bottom line.