Still alive this morning

Today is my husband’s birthday. He’s stuck 40 miles away with no way to get home, trying to scrape together the rent. No one in his family has so much as offered him a ride. Nice bunch of people, really.

I just talked to the social worker who is handling my kids’ case. She says we’re doing “great.” I can’t believe her. We hear how “wonderful” we’re doing every time we talk to these assholes, but then we go back to court and every time its the same thing. Nope, can’t have the kids back. Need to jump through more hoops. Need to pay out more money we don’t have. On a related note, she also told me that my brother-in-law was supposed to be picking us up and giving us a ride to the kids’ appointments. Funny thing she mentioned that after I walked five miles in the middle of a thunderstorm to make it to my son’s last appointment. He’s been saying he “isn’t supposed to” pick us up.  See, the thing is, if we fail at our case plan, he and his wife get to keep our kids. That must sound like a fantastic opportunity for them-not only will they get my son’s disability check and child support on my daughter, but the state has already blown smoke up their butts about giving them an extra twenty grand to buy a bigger house if they get custody of our kids! So my brother in law and his wife have been doing everything they can to make sure we fail.

I really despise those people. When we first got the kids placed with them instead of putting them in foster care, we thought they were decent human beings. Now, they show their true colors-they only agreed to take our kids in the first place because the state promised them a bunch of money. Of course, the state hasn’t come through with that money-DCFS can’t even file their goddamn paperwork right-so now they’re bitching and dropping hints that they “may have to let the kids go” because they “can’t afford them.” Yet they can afford to go on vacation to a private beachfront cabin for three weeks. Yeah. I sooo see how they’re hurting for money.

I quit my writing job last night. Not because I hate it, but because I haven’t been paid in three weeks. I earn $400, and somehow only end up getting $30. Its bullshit, and I’m done with it.  Let ’em find another slave. I’ll find something else to do.  Hell, at this point, flipping burgers would pay better. And, hey, if I go to prison because of the child support thing, well, that’s three years to write all I freakin’ want for no pay, right?

I’m still alive this morning because I’m angry. That’s it. I’m pissed beyond belief. I have been screwed over one way or another all my life, and I’m tired of it. I’m sick of being everybody’s favorite victim. I’m sick of wearing masks and pretending it doesn’t hurt when some asshole stabs me in the back. I’m sick of being “nice.”

I still don’t have a reason to keep going. I still don’t see a brighter future. I can’t see a day when my life will be any better. But damn it, if I’m going to be treated like a criminal and constantly kicked back down, the least I can do before I go out is bite some fucking ankles and hope I give somebody rabies.