Sometimes I have a hard time finding what to say. It’s just easier for you to see how I feel. I know when I’m like this no one wants to be around me and no one wants to talk to me. That’s ok. I get it. I’m Debbie Downer. I don’t want sympathy. I just want to write it out. Writing is an outlet. I’ve always been a realist, and this is as real as it gets.
People want to know my triggers and it’s pretty simple. It’s the feeling that the world around you is crashing. This time it happened to be work, life, and dealing with the finance around Dirk’s final expenses. So what’s going through my mind right now?
- Here we go, again. I won’t give too many details, but I’ve been here before, and I know how it ends. Part of me wants to believe his time will be different. The other part of me is asking what’s wrong with you?
- I know that I’m fat and not pretty. I don’t heed the alterations lady to point that out. And why on Earth is it $25 to hem a skirt? That’s ridiculous.
- Maybe it’s the weather.
- I broke down again over Dirk. I miss my little buddy. His urn came today. He’s next to me on the bedside table. I wish he was here to cuddle with, but he’s not. I don’t know why I’m still grieving. That seems childish, but maybe it’s not.
- We got the final checks from the pet insurance. I’m thankful we had it, but in the last year, they barely covered Dirk’s illnesses, so while we work to get out of debt, mourn the loss of my best friend, we’re left with more than $5K in medical expenses for him.
- I know I’m fat, and I have zero motivation to do anything about it.
- We want to do things but every dime we have goes to bills. We’re trying to pay credit cards off. don’t know how people do it. We’re lucky we don’t have as much as some but still. l’d like to do some things and see some places.
- I don’t know how to fix me. I don’t like taking meds, but I don’t like feeling like this.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.