Amygdalia's Blog

Return of the bitch fest

After a very long absence, I just have the need to get the words out of my head at the moment.

I feel like my life is falling apart around me.  Less than a week until my 40th birthday, and I just want to hide and pretend it's not happening.  I have a gaggle of friends coming for Shabbat dinner to help me celebrate . . . why did I volunteer?  I don't want to celebrate.  Today, I don't want to acknowledge it at all.  Can I have a re-do?  I feel like I've totally screwed up every aspect of my life.  Bob, my rock, is falling apart.  He NEEDS . . . desperately . . . to get OUT of his job, but he feels trapped by salary restrictions.  And why is that?  Because I've got nothin'.  I told him last night . . . I feel like I've let you down.  You're working to pay for my students loans, for the education I'm not using.  You supported me in whatever direction I wanted to go . . . and I've done nothing.  He said . . . yeah, he feels like I have, too, sometimes.

And so . . . I don't know where to go, what to do.  I feel like I have to give up the ethereal dreams that have gotten me nowhere, and grab at any pissant job that comes my way, just to help him dig out of his hole of despair.  He said  . . . "if you could bring in $20,000 that would make a huge difference."  At the risk of sounding even more pathetic than I already feel . . . I've never even come CLOSE to earning that much in a year.  I'm freaking FORTY years old and I've never earned even a facsimile of a decent salary, doing anything.  I've had little shit jobs here and there . . . yes, I even worked as a guidance counselor, but it was only for a semester.  Even if I got 1 doula job a month (which, considering the questionability of due dates and actual delivery, is all I could commit to) . . . and I can't count on that by ANY stretch of the imagination . . . I couldn't count on more than $1000 per job - one job was far less than that. 

And . . . and I'm just plain HURT.  I know now, as I've always really known in my heart, that Bob hides the bad stuff he's thinking . . . just to keep me happy.  Well, look where it's gotten us!  Is EITHER of us happy right now!?!?!  Not by a long stretch. 

We've got 3 kids to support, one of them just 3 years from college. 

Ugh, I can't write anymore . . . I can't do anything.