If mum and George get a job ASAP it’s actually doable.
I’d be able to put £50 a week or more aside, plus any odd jobs, and fees from selling my gecko hatchlings.
You guys know me, I’m pessimistic as fuck, but this is actually doable.
Just depends on my family getting jobs.
And they are trying, so it’s doable.
Upping sticks and moving across the pond with two of the most amazing friends a girl could have?
Something like that would be too good for a girl like me. Good things like that don’t happen to me.
But here I am, in my shitty ass job, on my phone, with a cup of strong English tea and a Digestive biscuit, telling you all, IT’S DOABLE.
And I am excited.
And you know how I’ve been away from here for a bit.
BECAUSE IT’S TRIGGERING AS FUCK.
The plan was to get better.
I went to the doctors yesterday and they medicated me and put me forward for counselling.
I GOT WORSE.
I PUT ON WEIGHT.
(I am actually over weight now by like 7kg, I’m not even exaggerating.)
Because I sat on my arse hating. WHICH I NEVER DO. Because all my friends are/were in Uni/Canada/Working/Travelling.
AND GOT I WORSE.
Something happened at work on Monday that caused 2 panic attacks when the shop was open and one at the shop on the way home and another one when I was in bed.
So fuck it, I’m back now.
I missed you all.
I still work in the same place.
I still have lots of animals.
I still have the same friends.
I still suck at life.
I still like Pokemon.
I still have pink hair.
It’s always good when you can’t trust half the people you work with.
At least I knew if I fucked up in my old shops, the team would have my back.
Now I feel like the smallest mistake is going to cost me my job.
Never mind the fact I’ve spent many a morning sorting out mistakes made by said team members so they wouldn’t get in the shit.
Not any more.
I guess it’s every man for himself in this place.
It’s not the kind of environment I want to work in.
I want my old teams back.
We were family.
I’ve completely lost control of my life over the last 2 days.
And my mum has already basically forced me to eat 2 meals.
Lose control -> Control food badly.
I the stupid thing is I KNOW I do it.
I still do it.
I don’t want to.
Even since I’ve been a healthy weight I controlled my intake. What and when I ate.
Where I ate. I still had that.
I know there’s people in here that understand what my brain is doing.
So I post this because I feel like I’m not alone in that.
Having been ”recovered” for so long.
This post makes no sense.
All I want to do is have a weekend away and see the only person who can make me forget about all this shit that happens in my life.
Just 2 days.
But no, we’re once again in trouble with our rent and all money and all my mums money is going into paying it off.
For the last 3 years it’s been the same, but the council were behind on their paperwork and have only just caught up with it from when I got back into work after being made redundant, so they’ve added £400 onto our arreas.
We’ve sold basically everything we own.
I’m down to my work uniform, one pair of jeans, one pair of shoes, some underwear and 2 tops.
Mum is still off work; but now getting back into the swing of things with this new advisor who’s helped so much, she’s just waiting for replys.
And you know what my brother does?
Baring in mind he’s not paid rent for 3 weeks?
Goes to London with his mates and goes to a Ministry of Sound gig.
His reaction when I said that money could make the difference between us having and not having our own front door?
‘It wouldn’t even matter, it was a once in a life time thing, the tickets are normally £80’
Now I don’t know how much money he actually spent; but I know for damn sure my mum and I are sick with worry and doing everything in our power to make this right.
And he’s gone.
He’s run off to his mate’s mums house. He keeps running away from this and drinking.
It doesn’t help.
I’m a fucking good person, I work all the hours I possibly can, I don’t do drugs, I don’t go out drinking, I don’t smoke, I never go shopping. I still sit and listen to other people’s problems, some of which are so small, and I’m fucking voluteering at a Rabbit and Reptile rescue.
My life could be over and I’m still helping people and helping animals that need me.
When really, I need help.
I work, pay my bills and the rest goes to my mum to pay our rent.
It’s not my mums fault she’s ill. And she try’s so hard to make ends meet.
It’s been down to me for 3 years nearly.
On my own, apart from about a 5 month break, to keep a house hold of 3 adults above water on £250 a week.
God only knows how we’ve managed so far.
My brother…he’s not my brother anymore really, he’s a stranger,
I don’t think I’m asking much to travel to see my friend at Uni for 2 days.
I just couldn’t go there, spend money on the train, and enjoy myself when I know that train fare could make a difference to our rent.
Because I care about my family.
My brother seems to not.
I’ve basically spent the last 3 days in tears.
I’m lonely, and I feel helpless.
I feel selfish for posting this, I know there’s people worse off.
But this is my life and I’m sick of trying so hard and still struggling.
I’m sick of seeing my mum struggle.
I’m sick of watching my brother enjoy his weekends drinking when sometimes mum and me sit at home with no dinner.
I’m sick of feeling such strong hatred for my baby brother, the boy I would do anything for.
The boy I’ve got myself into thousands of pounds of debt for. So he can have savings. So he didn’t have to worry. Now I physically can’t. And he’s not stepping up. He’s running away.
I’m always more aware of my old scars when I have days like this.
Days when I could easily add to them.
Replace the faded ones.
Having an iTunes spree.
Give me some bands to download.
Things like MCR, We The Kings, Kelly Clarkson, All Time Low, Papa Roach…etc.
My taste is pretty varied.
Basically anything that’s not the kind of thing they play in them rubbish bars/clubs.