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no poetry left for today
The teller at the bank really fucked with my head. I'm still hung up on that. When you bring a large check into a bank, they should say thank you. They shouldn't say:
“Were you expecting this check?”
“Where did you get this check?”
“When this check comes back bad, you don't have enough money in your account to cover the fees.”
Yes, these are things you should not say to someone who wants to invest in your company. And I don't think that these are things most people would have to deal with when they go to deposit money into a bank. I get enough shit from random assholes in the street, but in a place of business, I don't think so.
And a teller should not try to pull your check out of reach and refuse to let you have it back, like they are holding police evidence or something. You shouldn't have to scream “Give me back my check!” to someone and literally rip it out of someone's hands.
That whole pricky judgmental episode really set me off. First, I got so angry I was shaking for most of the rest of the day. Then, I had to recover from that. Then, I just got depressed. And I've stayed there since.
And the hits just kept on coming.
My husband's dad wrote him and said he made a list of all the reasons he tried to kill himself (this time) and he is working on changing those things in his life, one by one. That's great. I hope he does change his life. He's 69. It's about fucking time. I want absolutely nothing to do with him, and I am fed up with him being in my life at all, but I am not going to deny my husband having a relationship with, what for all practical purposes, is his only family. Even if that person is an insane, selfish, manipulative, abusive, ignorant fucktard.
And apparently, my brother is blaming everyone but himself for his drug addiction, so I don't think rehab is going to do him any good. He can't take any sort of responsibility for his own actions. I don't really understand what the point of rehab is, if they are going to encourage him in this sort of thing.
It's great to know why we do the things we do. A reason. But, in the end, we are all responsible for ourselves. How we act, how we react, how we cope or don't cope.
I've only seen my middle brother (rehab brother) about five times in my entire life. I really don't think one evening's conversation as adults should be any reason to dump blame on me for anything.
Personally, I think he needs to find religion. And stop doing all drugs. No cigarettes, no weed, no caffeine. I don't usually think those two things are good for anyone, but in his case, I really think he needs to read the Bible and go straight edge.
Unbelievably, he would be more bearable then.
I have found that now that I don't have to even think about going back to that diseased pisshole of a place I called “work” for almost ten years, my desire to drink has dropped off to almost nil. Aside from the one and a half beers I had when my husband went for walkabout, I haven't had any booze in a long time.
I am not sure what a long time is. I am really bad at time. Every morning I have to cross the previous day off the calendar, otherwise I get lost and have no clue what day it is. Like a prisoner in a cell. Like the cell is the world. Count off the days until you're dead.
But when you believe in reincarnation, death isn't even an out. And it sucks.
I have a job interview tomorrow. I don't know why. She called me a week ago, and then she called me again yesterday, and I said I'd go in for an interview tomorrow. Actually, she scheduled it for today, then had to call me right back and tell me she forgot they were closed on Wednesdays so could it be Thursday.
Not a good sign.
It's a job checking IDs and watching people take tests for some sort of state board re-certification place. Sounds mind-numbingly easy and it's not too far away.
I just panicked and wondered what the fuck I am going to do with my life? I really need to get out of this house, and this town. Endless stream of shit jobs that make me sick and addicted until I die of some horrible disease.
So, I really don't know why I am doing this tomorrow. I just don't want to do anything, and that's freaking me out. So, going to this shit place for a shit job and be judged by shit people, that is supposed to help?
I think my husband is right. I think I don't deserve to be happy.
1:46 PM - Wednesday, Mar. 28, 2018
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