I don't remember when things were good. Things were good, I remember that. I just can't seem to figure out when. Sometime in summer it must have been. February was when my boiler broke, that wasn't good. I ended up dropping out of almost all of my classes and avoided academic penalty on the grounds of medical withdrawal I was never convinced I really deserved.
Things have definitely not been good this semester. Granted I was only there to keep my mental health team long enough for them to find colleagues who would take my insurance that they though would be a good fit to pass me off to when I graduate which I would have done before if I'd realized that the class I was sticking around to retake would cease to exist before I could retake it. Even so, utterly failing in the class and ending up seeking another medical withdrawal wasn't the plan.
So, sometime between Spring and Fall semesters. But when? Things have definitely sucked since my birthday, so that rules out August, on the other end it was still bad into April, where I have a post simply titled "Fuck".
So that narrows down when things could have been going well to three months. Maybe if I went through things post by post I'd be able to figure out when things were good.
That's not really the point.
Months ago, I think, I accidentally broke a glass. I didn't have it in me to pick up just then. Even though I'm usually barefoot. Even though that was a room where I'd be barefoot some of the time even if I were making a point of keeping my feet guarded as often as possible. I just pushed the broken glass to one side with the intention of getting back to it and cleaning up as soon as mind, body, and will were properly functioning.
Meaning the broken glass is still on the floor.
I think that could somehow be a metaphor for my life right now, but my brain isn't working beyond, "Neglected broken glass, totally my life," at the moment.
I haven't been taking good care of my body. Getting food and water into it regularly is too much effort. Getting to bed on time seldom happens. Getting out of bed in the morning is increasingly becoming a struggle.
Most days my brain doesn't want to work. My house gets worse and worse as I have a cat (the furry embodiment of entropy) and a vermin problem but do not have the energy/will/motivation/spoons/whatever to do any kind of upkeep.
I hesitate to call it "squalor" because that implies filth while my house is mostly, area around the kitchen sink excepted, clean mess. Not the sort of thing to breed advanced civilizations of mold or bring about invasions of fruit flies.
Though on that subject, I have bananas intended for banana bread and if your familiar with banana bread making you probably know that that means they're in a state of being about six seconds away from full on biohazards.
And then there's money. Always fucking money.
So remember when I was tallying up how much I needed? I got that. Celebration is in order right? No longer in the situation of being constantly stressed out over being fincially fucked. My months long stressed out period can end. Right?
No. Because I left something out of the calculation because sometimes I'm really damned stupid. Sometimes, when I am not saved by donations (thank you for the me saving donations by the way, in particular at the moment the above mentioned, "I got that" referring to the money I said I needed) I deal with things by getting deeper in debt (always fun, said in a completely flat voice) and sometimes when I do that I manage to make use of promotional offers to get decent terms.
And then, sometimes, I don't think about it because what's in front of me seems so insurmountable that the decent promotional terms wearing off seems so far into the future as to not matter because I'll be fucking bankrupt by then anyway.
Thus we get to what I left out of all those calculations I'd been making, the weirdly patriotic debt of $1,777.76 (I'm not kidding) that I didn't have to worry about until 2015 ended except, wait, 2015 will be over in a little under four weeks and unless I pay that off in full there'll be retroactive compound interest applied to the full amount at punitively usurious rates.
Which means that right now I'm in a state of constant financial stressed out more or less identical to where I was before. (But very seriously thank you about before.)
And I still can't wash my clothes.
That's actually proving to be a relatively minor concern as changing clothes or, *hushed tone* taking a shower, or something like that requires more effort than I can summon most days.
A lot of the time what I really want, more than pretty much anything else, is to curl up into a nice tight ball, go to sleep, and stay that way forevermore. One could probably make some poetic positive spin about embracing dreams, but I don't remember my dreams (unless I'm sick.)
It's not a happy update, and for that I'm sorry. Especially since I came up with a dollar amount where getting that much should put the major financial woes to rest, and I got that amount, only to realize that I should have been counting the number with a lot of sevens ($1,777.76 so four sevens) and I hadn't been.