NO MORE.

no more no more no more no more. 

No more living how I want to when we are so desperately poor. No more tattoos as birthday and Christmas gifts; no gifts for me at all.  No trips. No special treats. No piercings. No buying anything for fun, at all, ever. No boxes of hair dye, no make up.

Even if my ebooks and etsy shop make a modicum of cash that money is going directly toward FOOD and BILLS.  I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live with myself.

J has done everything he possibly can to get this promotion at his agency. He’s expecting them to drag their feet, which is what County agencies do. He SAYS he can freelance web stuff, he can sell a painting, blah blah blah. Just get a fucking job. I’m doing everything I possibly can while being on Disability and I know I can’t work yet but that is coming next. GET A JOB. GET A JOB THAT SUPPORTS THE FAMILY. 

Until then it’s extreme austerity measures for me. I’m done.

And by the way this fewer painkillers / more anti-anxiety meds plan failed. I’m still in pain and still anxious and the new meds make me sleepier than I expected them to. And, I’m going to run out of my pain medicine way too soon. Live and learn. Or, live, and never ever ever learn because you’re fucking stupid. Or, don’t live.



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