I feel crushed, like an aluminum can under some magnanimous invisible foot. I can’t quite get to the bottom of the cause of it. Three major changes mark the turning point in my career, my finances, and other vital parts of my being. Kim and I moved in together, I dropped out of school, and student loan bills started to come in. In less than two years, my credit went from the 700s down to the 300s. My school and my ex are playing tug of war with my tax return, and I am facing the reality that all of this might be preventing us from having a place to live. We have 2 weeks left to be in our current rental. The property management has already listed it, and we can hardly use our driveway with all the people pulling in to have a look. Literally every 30 minutes, someone is pulling up and scoping things out.
Then there’s our 6 year old girl now starting self-mutilation. I tried weeks ago to get family counseling through the VA, but never got a call back. I’ve been calling counselors like crazy, but either they are too busy or it’s not their area of expertise.
The clutter. I have been cleaning and picking up mess for weeks in this moving effort. Mess and clutter stresses me out, and even with nearly 2,000 cubic feet of crap in storage there somehow is still enough papers, clothes, and random objects to get in the way of having dinner or sitting on the couch.
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it” Kim tells me. I want to scream, and have done so at times, “IT’S NOT OKAY!”
I need to get on with my day. My head is swimming with the stress. I can’t figure out how to pull it all together. My entire life, I’ve been a 90th percentile person. Whether it’s a test of knowledge, physical stamina, or job performance, I’m pretty much the one running circles around the average Joe. What happened to me? Why am I stuck in the mud, failing to provide, failing to perform, feeling like a disgraced bum?
I want to close my eyes and forget the world. I want to disappear from everyone and go somewhere all by myself and heal. I want to escape this crushing trap, but I don’t know how, and I can’t even identify what’s making me feel trapped.
I’m in the middle of a mental meltdown. At this point, maybe the only thought that can get me back on task is to wish life was shittier so that I could at least have a good story to tell when it’s over.
Alright, if I can take a deep breath and face electrocution at the end of a brutal 13 mile obstacle course just for two beers and an orange headband, I can go face whatever life is going to dish up next. It just might be a lame story is all. 😧