Thursday, June 21, 2007
At some point things will get better. Right?
For those of you that check in occasionally I'm sorry for my lack of updating skill. You'd think that I'd be using this as some form of therapy. It's free and I don't have to sit in an office for an hour listening to someone ask me how that makes me feel. I had a therapist once and that was all he ever said. "How does that make you feel?" I think I went there twice. I was only 16 at the time, but it was pretty evident that he wasn't going to be much help. I've pretty much given up on therapy. The reason being is that I can change my reactions to things all I want. I can change just about everything about myself, but that doesn't change the people around me and my environment. It doesn't change the fact that my husband quit his job and now we have no income and we're in foreclosure on our house. It doesn't change the fact that he doesn't help me around the house. It doesn't change the fact that I'm raising our children by myself. All in all I'd say I'm damn justified in being depressed. The lovely folks at state disability can't seem to understand why I'm not getting better. Live in my hell for a while, you'll figure it out. So we're about to lose our home, we have no where to go and my doctor doesn't feel that I'm able to work right now, but the state disability feels that I am, so I don't get any money from any where. I can't get unemployment because my doctor doesn't think I'm able to work. NICE. So incredibly helpful don't you think? Take someone who's majorly depressed and cut off her only source of income. Right on! Way to go folks! That will make things much better. Now that my husband isn't working we don't have insurance, so I can't even afford my meds. Isn't that lovely? I'd love to just go to bed and stay there, but I have two kids to take care of. I don't have the option of going off the deep end. I don't have the option of checking myself in to an inpatient program. I can't tell my parents because they have problems of their own. I'm the only one that can help myself and I'm just too damn exhausted to do it.
Monday, June 04, 2007
My blog is like my period
I only deal with it once a month.
I saw on the tailgate of an el camino the phrase, "God made Adam and Eve. Not Adam and Steve." If God made Adam, surely God could have made a guy named Steve. Yes, I do understand what the ignoramous meant by that wonderfully artful phrase against homosexuality. But jeez, aren't there more important things to worry about? Children that aren't getting enough to eat, people that don't have medical insurance, whether or not the Yankess will make it to the World Series again? Just my two cents worth, but God created man and all his imperfections, including homosexuality. If we were all perfect then God probably wouldn't seem so special.
Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to sit back and get ready for the onslaught. If there even is one.
I saw on the tailgate of an el camino the phrase, "God made Adam and Eve. Not Adam and Steve." If God made Adam, surely God could have made a guy named Steve. Yes, I do understand what the ignoramous meant by that wonderfully artful phrase against homosexuality. But jeez, aren't there more important things to worry about? Children that aren't getting enough to eat, people that don't have medical insurance, whether or not the Yankess will make it to the World Series again? Just my two cents worth, but God created man and all his imperfections, including homosexuality. If we were all perfect then God probably wouldn't seem so special.
Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to sit back and get ready for the onslaught. If there even is one.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)