zeptember

Today was the first day of school. Immediately upon my arrival, one of my fellow assistant teachers came in with some kind of fragrance on her that sent me choking and gasping for air. My throat got all sticky and I got a headache - those are some of the Multiple Chemical Sensitivity signs. She felt bad, but said three TYPICAL stupid things - “But it’s only hand lotion!” and “Buy me some lotion, then! ..just kidding”…she added. Then she went on about how she wore that same lotion all last week and I didn’t have a reaction.

Well, I don’t have an answer as to WHY I did not have a reaction - I’d have to go back in time and see if I stood next to her at all last week. I’d have to ask how MUCH lotion did she use. I’d have to factor in that perhaps something ELSE in the air or carpets set me off before even her lotion did this morning. The school had the floors and carpets cleaned over the weekend.

I took a Benadryl. Then my other fellow assistant teacher came in to work and HER perfume or lotion or hair product or whatever set me off, but not as much as the first assistant’s did.

I got better gradually throughout the day. There are three children in our class that I cannot be around for very long because they have scented oil or hair product in their hair.

I can’t remember how soon the sore throat set in, but the headache and sore throat are still with me now, at 7:30pm.

In other news, I was asked to stay til 5pm at work. I said yes, totally forgetting about my psychologist appointment.

The psychologist called me exasperated the moment I walked in the door at 5:30pm, and that alone set me off. The guilt at having failed someone, followed so closely on the heels of having felt good at helping someone else out, really broke my heart. The guilt is overwhelming. I wanted to start crying right there on the phone.

My psychologist says I REALLY need a psychiatrist STAT, and set me off further by ordering me to call Magellan and set this shit up. She says I NEED to be on mood stabilisers, and that it’s IMPORTANT for me to get medicated IMMEDIATELY.

Huh. How is it that I made it through 28 years of life with this condition, and only now someone is treating me as though I might perish at any moment if I don’t get MEDICATED? I’ve been chronically depressed since about the age of ten. I’ve been getting worse as the years go by, sure. That head-on auto accident in 1994 sure didn’t help things. But I’m the one who put me on SSRI treatment for two years from 2000 to 2002, and I’m the one who took myself off that because the meds weren’t helping me. I’m the one who has been managing the best I can since 2002.

Because I had a freakout that was a combination of my own mental shit, exacerbated by experimentation with medical grade cannabis for endometriosis treatment, now suddenly I’m like this shiny self destruct button to a newly hired shrink.

After I got off the phone with the psychologist, I took 2mg Ativan to avoid a crying meltdown, because I was still feeling so guilty at having flaked on my appointment with her today, and I was feeling under pressure from her ordering me to call Magellan and find a psychiatrist NOW.

So that means I’ve had a total of 3mg Ativan today, because I took one at work.
I had 1mg yesterday. I can’t remember past that.

Out of 30 in a bottle, prescribed to me on August 14, 2010, I have used up 16 pills, which is an average of one a day. Which means some days I take a .5mg ativan, some days I take no ativan, and some days, like today, I take 3mg of ativan.

My husband is also doing poorly in the mental health department. That’s a whole other entry, though, which I don’t have time for at this moment.

As of August 18, I felt I had come out of my funk. Of course, that’s when I began spotting. I got my period on August 19, and had a hard time of it, but in general I was not depersonalising or becoming suicidal or falling into deep depressions anymore, and the mania had calmed down.

My anxiety kicked up on Sunday, August 22, because I was still in pain - I had the ‘last gasp’ as we call it, where there’s one last push of big pain and bleeding before the menstrual cycle stops again for the next 21 or so days. But the pain lasted alllll damned day. So I resumed taking ativan along with my pain meds and was a total zombie all day Sunday.

When I got to work on Monday - it was my first day back to work after being gone all summer for the teacher training - I required 1.5 ativan to get through the workday.

Monday was also my first visit with a new psychologist - Lynda Sussman. I like her. I will be seeing her weekly.

I don’t remember if I took any ativan at all on Tuesday, August 24, but the next day, on August 25, I found out that my chosen sister’s papa had died. he was my adopted/chosen grandpa. He always treated me like family. I cried for part of the day at work, and got home and spent the rest of the evening sobbing while talking to my chosen sister over the phone.

I required 2 ativan to get through Tuesday.

Today I was just a wreck, and have so far taken 3.5 ativan to get through the day/night. I took these over the course of the day, but still.
I had another chemical exposure at work today (orange oil cleaners to scrape masking tape off the floor) - I was wearing a mask & gloves but the chems leaked through gloves. I walked back into the room after taking my mask off, and was sent outside cuz I was faint/flushed and didn’t realise it was BECAUSE of the fumes. After work, I noticed my bike helmet was gone. Then, my shoelace got caught in the pedal on the way home.
And of course I’m still sad about my chosen sister’s Papa. All this makes for a needful night of crocodile tears. There’s been a lot of crying, lately. I haven’t cried such huge, wet tears this often since I was a teenager.

Oh, and I am now wondering if the bouncy leg thing is from the ativan, but then, didn’t I have this symptom before getting on ativan? Too tired to check.

I was supposed to work today, then go to the gym. Instead, I came home from work, cried hard on and off, got into pajamas, then street clothes, then pajamas, then street clothes, then pajamas again, crying each time I changed clothes, because I was trying to go to the gym but just couldn’t do it. I wanted to run a load of laundry at 8pm but just couldn’t do it. It was all I could do to clean the catboxes. I have not eaten dinner. I ate I dunno how many M&M candies, and cried some more.

And now, after this last 1mg ativan I popped about an hour ago, I’m ready to be a zombie and be in bed, now.

Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow is Friday. Tomorrow is game night with friends, even though I wanna go dancing. But if I go dancing, I WILL get drunk. So game night it is.

On a positive note, both the school owner and the director both keep telling me how great it is to have me back, and that means so much to me, so very much. I am loved and appreciated.

I need to keep seeing Dr. Sussman, and also get myself a psychiatrist, because Dr. Sussman thinks I am Bipolar II and need to be on mood stabilisers. I totally agree with her.

Thursday, July 22 - pre-menstrual pain so bad that I spent the last half of the last day of Cultural teacher training class sobbing. Friday and Saturday, I felt a little better, go figure. The cramps were moderate on those two days.

Sunday, July 25 to Wednesday, July 28 - spent four days in a hard wooden chair, because for some reason, my body was in too much pain being on the soft couch or bed. Lots of Tylenol 3 and Advil for the endometriosis pain, which stayed constantly at about a 7 on the scale. Heavy bleeding. Tried cannabis edibles which gave me long, unwanted mind trips and did very little for the pain.

Thursday, July 29 - Was about to head to my pain management appointment at UCSF when I checked the joint bank account and found it EMPTY, with several bills waiting to roll through. Panic ensued. Woke husband, who said he had no money to spare. Argument ensued as to how he thought he was supposed to take care of of me financially this summer for school and pay all my bills when obviously there was a giant error in calculation. More panic ensued. Immediate dangerous depression, as money issues are a huge trigger for me, emotionally.

Friday, July 30 - Slept 11 hours. Tired all day. Blamed post-menstrual body detox from spending a week on Tylenol 3. Also very depressed - dangerously depressed, due to the financial situation. Did not leave the house.

Saturday, July 31 - What can only be described as a psychotic break. Did not leave the house for my own protection. Spent the day alternating between crying, babbling, rearranging the house, and finding all the old cat piss that I hadn’t found previously - my male cat has been targeting my stuff to pee on since last November.

Sunday, August 1 - Continued “mixed episode” - bipolar with psychotic features. Did not leave the house. Cat resumed peeing on my stuff because I’d moved furniture around.

Monday, August 2 - Spent the day crying and trying to get homework done. Did not leave the house for my own protection.

Tuesday, August 3 - Did not leave the house. Did homework for much of the day. In the late evening, songs triggered memories of old friends, caused me sorrow and fully distracted me from getting further homework done.

Wednesday, August 4 - Forced myself out of the house - I went to an art store in Berkeley. After buying fresh coloured pencils for my homework, I was witness to a parking lot collision. This set off triggers of a near death accident in 1994, and when I got home, I sobbed for much of the rest of the day.

Thursday, August 5 - Went to local doctor for anxiety/depression. I got 1mg Ativan prescription and promised to see a psychologist. I did another thyroid blood draw, hoping something would come up to explain this terrifying depression. Did not leave the house for the rest of the day.

Friday, August 6 - Mid-cycle pain for much of the day. Game night that night with friends. Promised everyone I would not get drunk, and proceeded to get MOTHERFUCKING drunk. The night ended in puke and tears. Guilt over that drove me further into depression.

Saturday, August 7 - Spent the day hungover, in an Ativan haze, and sobbing for part of the day. Decided to pick my personality apart and kick out the Bad Ztepf. Found out B’s dad had also spent the night puking, and was in the hospital with complications due to a bad virus and his diabetes throwing his blood sugar up near 500. Spent the day waiting for each next call from dad’s wife.

Sunday, August 8 - Visited B’s dad in the hospital. Ate fast food and watched TV with B. I fell asleep on the couch, then woke up after midnight with a real, actual hot flash. I tore off my blanket, socks and hoodie and ran around on the cool bare wood floor for a few minutes, then dove into the cool sheets of the bed and fell back to sleep.

Monday, August 9 - Was awakened before 9am from a company called Magellan, who told me I cannot see the psychologist my local doctor wants me to see, because he’s not in-network. I said he’s listed on the Aetna website. Magellan had to explain to me that my husband’s company has Aetna for health care, and Magellan for mental health care. I replied that I have access to all the mental health stuff on the Aetna website, which is confusing. I expressed distrust for these Magellan people. They told me not only could I not see the dude I was referred to, but the UCSF pain management psychologist I’ve seen twice and have paid co-payments to is ALSO not on the Magellan network, and so I OWE money to Magellan and/or UCSF.

This was first thing in the morning. This was hitting my financial panic trigger. I broke down in tears immediately and spent the rest of the morning curled up on the floor at the end of the bed, sobbing and becoming suicidal.

B was working from home that day, and did not want to leave me alone, so gently insisted that I come with him to visit B’s dad in the hospital again. We went around 1pm I think.

After that, I sobbed for most of the day - part of it was worry for B’s dad, most of it was continued WTF IS WRONG WITH MY BRAIN crying. Took a total of 3mg Ativan. Suicidal ideation turned into mania and I moved more furniture and stuff around in the house. Then I started updating my will, which didn’t last long and turned into making a list to give everything away so I could run away and start over, which turned to kicking out Bad Ztepf and crying over her departure. Wow, what a headspace….

And today…

Tuesday, August 10 - I woke to find that my male cat had once again shown his displeasure with me moving HIS stuff around in HIS house. He scooted his poopy butt all over the computer room floor, leaving two shit kibbles on the floor, and then he’d hopped up on top of my desk and left a big shit kibble on my desk.

Despite my goddamned cat, I was feeling a little better - I had gotten up early to go to the psychologist appointment that Magellan did not want me to go to, but that B insisted I go to. The dude called last minute and said he’d double-booked, could I show up at 3pm instead? Sure. I needed to clean up after the damned cat, anyway.

I was just about to leave the house to run some errands, when Magellan called again.
Magellan told me again not to see this psychologist, that he’s not covered, that I will owe money, etc and so forth. They also said they checked, and for sure I owe money to them and to UCSF for daring having seen a pain management psychologist such as is listed on the Aetna website.
I yelled obscenities and broke down in tears immediately. I told them to where to go, how to go there, and said all sorts of things. I told them they were ruining my life. The woman reacted by threatening to send a squad car over and lock me up on 5150. I told her my husband was home and taking care of me, and that yesterday he’d lodged a complaint against Magellan.
I dictated to this woman that Magellan, the company B works for, and Aetna needs to get their collective asses together and communicate effectively to their employees and patients, because this is UNACCEPTABLE.
I spent the rest of the morning sobbing uncontrollably.

I went to the banned psychologist at 3pm - I went on my own despite B offering to go with me. I wanted to assert some form of independence and stability in all of this. I made it to the appointment on time, met the guy, and …

Turns out he’s a spaz, and drops the F-bomb a lot, and swears in general (mental patient swearing okay, mental health professional swearing - NOT OKAY - just so we’re clear). At several points he got the gist of my mental state WRONG. At one point he tried summing up the mess I’ve gotten my brain into, and said, and I quote, “WOW, YOU’RE FUCKED!”

And lastly, while I was encouraged to talk about my family and was describing my relationship with my parents and sibling, the shrink interrupted out of the blue to panic about how he will be paid for this session, since he’s not in-network, and wow, with all these triggers and emotional fucked-upness, I will likely be REALLY mad at HIM and will hold shit against HIM, THE SHRINK, if he charges me the full amount, but he HAS to be paid you see….etc etc.

I broke down in tears to explain to him that I thought he was on my side, he was referred by someone I trust and like - that being my local doctor. And therefore I trust HIM and therefore I won’t be upset with HIM and I KNOW he has to be paid. I promised him my husband would call him tomorrow and suss out the payment. I left confused, because the shrink had said repeatedly before the appointment not to worry about payment on the first visit, that he could bill me, and we’d work out out with the insurance company.

I got home, cried a bit more, told my husband all the gory details about this shrink, and we agreed HE’S fucked in the head, and that I won’t be seeing him again. But now guess what, we owe $130 for that visit, which we have to file a form with Magellan for, to hopefully be reimbursed at 70%. So, more money woes.

My husband went off to band practice tonight, which was BAD (i’ll let him tell you about it), and when he got home, his dad’s wife called to say that Kaiser caused his father to have a heart attack by giving him potassium in his IV, and now his heart is damaged, and they don’t know how badly.

I had just stressed on Sunday over them fucking up his heart, because they wanted to give him a CT scan with contrast (dye), which carries serious risk to damaging the heart in sick and at risk patients. It wasn’t the CT scan that did it, though. They were giving him his dialysis and decided he should for some reason have potassium added in, when he wasn’t supposed to.

KAISER ALMOST KILLED MY FATHER-IN-LAW.
Thankfully his wife has been keeping copious notes, and will be filing a complaint, if not a lawsuit.

Motherfuckers.

In closing, I’d like to say I have only had 1mg Ativan today. I’m taking one more right now before I go to bed.

My husband is worse for the wear, now. He’s been hitting the bottle(s). I am letting him. He’s also taking a mental health day from work tomorrow, or at the very least, working from home again.

I pray to [insert deity here] that I am emotionally stable tomorrow. I haven’t done homework in what, four days? And my husband is the one who needs me to be emotionally sound, right now.

My last day of work was on June 11, 2010. I took the summer off of work to attend the Montessori Teacher Education Center’s early childhood head teacher training course. I was urged by the owner of the school I work at to take the training, pretty much since day one of working for her back in April, 2009.

In Autumn, 2009, I took one class, which occurred over five weekends, and it destroyed me emotionally because of the amount of homework that had to go into a giant three-ring binder. I actually had an emotional breakdown, and was not able to finish the homework load for that one class until the end of November. I was working full time and had housework and husband to come home to - I wanted to spend time with my hubby but instead was faced with housework and homework. My weekends were shot. And then I was also dealing with being really ill - this is when the chemical sensitivities really set in, on top of the cold and flu season hammering at me, on top of being around a group of preschoolers for fall season for the first time in 13 years.

When the owner of the school asked me if I’d be interested in taking more classes, I told her I’d only be able to do it if I had time off work, and the money to spend (the entire course costs over $2,000).

Well, in February, we got our tax return, and it was enough to cover my schooling. The school owner assured me I’d be fine to take the summer off work to do the courses. Once the summer session approached, it became very clear that I’d be unemployed for much of the summer, anyway, due to low enrollment, so I opted to get the teacher training out of the way. I was also assured that it would be at a leisurely pace - that I’d have all summer and into the fall to get all my homework and 3-ring binders turned in.

From June 14 - 18, 2010, I took the Sensorial class. This class was taught by the executive director of the training facility, and she informed us that AS OF THIS SUMMER, THE RULES HAVE CHANGED.
Apparently, people were paying all kinds of money to attend these classes, then would never turn in their homework, and some were never heard from again. So the director decided she would make it mandatory that all homework be turned in promptly - no more leniency and lax time frames!

She ordered us all to turn in our homework by the following Monday after taking each class.

What she did not realise were two things:
1) SEVERAL grown women were sobbing and hysterical from the stress by Day 3 of her class, and by Day 2 of each subsequent class
2) The reason homework might never have been turned in, and students never returning again, was that the homework load has ALWAYS BEEN TOO DEMANDING. Forcing people to turn in the homework earlier just makes it that much more terrifying for us.

When I began getting anxiety and began witnessing women falling apart at the seams openly in class, I decided right then and there, “You’ll get your goddamned binders when I’m finished with them, and not one moment before. I was promised by my own directress that I have all summer and into the fall to complete my homework. I don’t CARE if you are the executive director of this training facility, you will get my homework when I am able to complete it.”

Because of my stance, I was a bit more composed than some of my classmates. Several classmates decided to take up the challenge of turning in such workload every week, to prove a point to the director that shoddy work would be the result. Several women had binders handed back to them and were told to do them again. So their plan for some backfired, adding more stress.

July 5 - 9, 2010 was the Language Arts class. This class had FOUR binders.

July 12 - 16, 2010 was the Mathematics class. This class has one huge binder that SHOULD be broken up into two binders. It’s as huge as the Practical Life binder I did last autumn.

July 19 - 22, 2010 was the Cultural class. This class was only 4 days long, and yet we had FOUR binders to complete.

July 23, 2010 was Classroom Design and Practicum Overview with the executive director.

Endometriosis pain hit me twice during the week of July 19th (Cultural class). The pain was a week earlier than expected. On the last day of Cultural class, I spent much of the day sobbing at school because of the pain. It was also a release of all the pent up stress. I had spent five weeks of my life in Sunnyvale for these courses. I alternated between commuting to school and staying in shitty hotels to avoid the commute. It did not matter whether I stayed in hotels or made the hour plus trek to and from school - time ultimately was not saved to get maximum homework done. For one reason or another, I would be delayed or sidetracked or stuck in traffic or was forced to take a dinner break - and I was not able to accomplish as much homework as I’d like to have.

Mandatory Homework consists of the following:

• 10 quotes from Maria Montessori per class, relating to the subject matter of the class (except in the case of Cultural class, where we are expected to provide 40 quotes).
• Rationale paper for each class (example of what a rationale paper is).
• Hand-drawn and coloured illustrations for every single presented activity (upwards of 80 - 100 illustrations) per class.
• Photographs of presented activities, to be interspersed throughout each binder.
• Magazine and/or catalogue photos relevant to presented activities, to be interspersed throughout each binder.
• Reading assignments of up to two chapters a night for each class (and written papers detailing two questions from the reading, to be turned in for each day of class - this was for Language Arts class).
• Each page of the manual for each binder must be placed in a sheet protector (you’d think this is a minor detail, but stuffing one 200+ page manual into sheet protectors can take a few hours out of one’s day).
• Highlight all bold areas of the manuals, and highlight areas I want to remember from the presentations listed in said manuals (again, takes a few hours out of one’s day for EACH binder).
• Lessons that I and a small group of peers must to present to the class, using whatever materials we have to work with to concoct said presentation - one or two day’s notice maximum - GO!

The summer courses were over by July 23, but I still have an assload of homework to do.

A week later, on July 29, I had a pain management appointment. I checked the joint bank account to see what I had left to work with for the coming week, and was horrified to discover that over the past month, I had completely drained the account, and I still had school bills coming due. I freaked out, dropped the bomb on B first thing in the morning before my doctor’s appointment, which upset him, and that’s when all hell broke loose.

Both of us handled the funds available for school very poorly. I had appealed for spending oversight several times and never heard back from B, so I figured all was well. It was far from well as it turned out. B had not even been looking at the printouts of the bank acct I’d been setting on his desk. We’ve talked about it and both have accepted our part in this mess, so no one is about to kill the other over it, but it left me feeling like a giant failure. Money issues are always a huge trigger for me, having grown up in abject poverty with a mentally ill mother who ran us into well over $30,000 debt on credit cards, which I had to help pay down by working full time while going to college full time in the 1990s.

Two days after the financial mess discovery, I broke from reality. I had a full on mixed episode with psychotic features. I did not leave the house for five days.

Today I am going to the doctor to appeal for anti-anxiety medication and/or mood stabilizers (I have previously documented Major Depression with Bi-Polar Tendency).

The only binder and homework I have turned in so far is for the first class - Sensorial class. I have nearly finished Language Arts class, and I am actively working on the Math binder this week.

If taking the summer off work to do the training course was supposed to be leisurely and easy on me, I was sorely mistaken. I’m actually WORSE emotionally than I was back in November, 2009, after taking just the one class while also working full time.

I ask you, how is this supposed to advance me? I will not be refreshed and ready to go for the new school year. I’ll be burnt out and in need of a vacation. I’ll be on psych meds. I likely won’t get the raise I need, so I’ll want to be job hunting but my hands will be tied by the internship and practicum responsibilities.

It feels like I will never rise above my station. It feels like I will always have financial problems. It feels like I would be better off in a nice padded room in a facility where I can be taken care of. I desperately just want to be taken care of, rather than having to claw and fight my way through life anymore.

3:48pm Update
I went to the local doctor, spewed my mental health history, handed her two letters from a psychiatrist and psychologist from 10 yrs ago establishing my history, and described what happened last weekend.

I came out of there with thyroid blood draw, xanax, a promise to see a local shrink, and a follow-up appointment in a month.

The thyroid thing - I’ve known for years I have a thyroid issue, but every blood draw since 2001 comes back in the ‘normal’ range. I requested a more in-depth test, and hopefully that’s what will happen, and hopefully something will show up. That’s right, I WANT something to register for thyroid issue, because I think it also explains part of the chronic pelvic pain.

Stay tuned…

From May until July I did not get sick. Then I spent a weekend around five sick people and of course I got sick. It’s been two weeks with a cough and lung crap. I heard there’s also an outbreak of whooping cough, but I don’t have a whoop going on, so that’s good.

I took the summer off of work to do head teacher Montessori training. I attended six weeks of schooling. I had my husband’s blessing and over $2,000 from last year’s tax return.
Somehow, all of it got eaten up, plus another $1,000 that my husband had to foot the bill for. I turned in weekly or biweekly bank statements to him, and apprised him as to my spending and eating out and all of that. I told him I needed him to check to make sure it’s all okay. I guess he just trusted that it was. He took the printouts I’d been laying on his desk and just put them in the trash!!!

Without any oversight, I totally went over the limit. I know that there were emergency cat expenses and car expenses thrown in, but it still should not have toppled us the way it did.

My husband has been very upset with me, and I’ve been very upset with him. I’ve told him over the last ten years that we’ve been together that I cannot manage money AT ALL, despite all the methods I have tried. He told me he has no money left, and doesn’t know how he can make rent, and then goes away for a weekend stay in a hotel with his buddies for a gaming group outing.
I was cleaning the bedroom today and found $250 cash just sitting on top of his armoire. And here I am, flat broke, eating macaroni and cheese, not able to go out dancing with friends or buy the groceries I want, because he has refused to put further money into the joint account. When he went grocery shopping for us last night, he got all kinds of snacks for himself and took those to the gaming group, and got nothing for me. I am eating leftovers and mac ‘n cheese, as I said.

As a result, I am dangerously depressed. The other day, I had to force myself to put a razor away, and the entire time it took to walk to the tool box (mere seconds) seemed like an eternity as I struggled against taking the razor from my hand and using it to slice the wrist of the other arm.

Money has always been a huge depression trigger for me. Shame and guilt have always been another trigger. I grew up in poverty and had a mentally ill christian fundamentalist mother.
I realise that these are triggers. I realise I can have power over these instead of the triggers having power over me. It is very difficult to maintain sanity most of the time.

I’m currently taking a break from cleaning the bedroom - it’s another thing I’m pissed about - over the six weeks I was in school, my husband whined about how much housework there was to do, and how he busted his ass, but he never vacuumed behind furniture, never dusted thoroughly, never cleaned the bathroom tub, toilet, sink or walls. I came home with an upper respiratory tract infection already going on, and it’s just gotten worse by living in this filthy house.

My husband laughs and says the house is not filthy. He’s completely insane. I took photos to prove his insanity.

Dust & cat hair

Dust & cat hair

It’s been there since July 18.

Blankets that need washing

My desk

Food that went bad while I was away

Dust

Dust

Thick dust on moulding and carpet

I’m so tired. I get this tired not only when I’m sick, and not only when I’m right off my period like I am, but also when I’m severely depressed.

I’m severely depressed. I’m dangerously depressed. I have no money to go to the doctor. I don’t want anti-depressants. I want anti-anxiety medication. I want safety. I want security. I want to be taken care of. I’m tired of fighting through life on my own. I’m supposed to be married, dammit. I’m supposed to be taken care of. I was promised I’d be taken care of financially and somehow that didn’t work out and now I feel I’m being punished when clearly my husband was as much at fault as I was in not keeping close enough eye on where the money was going. I only spent the money on class tuition and supplies, groceries and eating out, and motels - CRAPPY CHEAP DIRTY MOTELS I might add!

It’s so not fair. I’m so mad and sad, and yet my horoscope says this financial mess will continue through til 2012 on and off, and that I’m to make the best of it in order to come out on top and alright career-wise and finance-wise.

But I can’t do this alone, and it feels like the one person who said he’d be there for me has already abandoned me.

If we weren’t married, I’d be homeless right now. My bank account has less than $300 in it. I have no other money or income right now. Nothing. My credit cards (there are two) are completely maxed out. My husband is paying all the rent, all the groceries, all of his and my bills. If he decides he can’t do it anymore, I’m on the street.

I’m always one step away from being on the street, even in marriage. This is why I am dangerously depressed.

We talked about how things would change financially when we got married. He just refused to pay attention.

What am I going to do when I sign off of my blog today? I’m going to pick at the available food in the house, and I’m going to stare at all of the crap we have, and try to reorganise it somehow. I might even just leave it all as-is, furniture and whatnot askew, and take a nap, and force the husband to Do Something About It when he gets in late tonight from his gaming adventures.

My gods, I sound like a kept Victorian woman. WHERE’S MY LAUDANUM.