The Punch Line

So this week has been a rough one.

I'm feeling very anxious with all the noise in the neighborhood still, although it's been a little quieter than usual over the last couple days now. Odd.

Marco's got court tomorrow afternoon over a couple thousand dollars of debt that he got stuck with. I'm hoping it goes well, although it likely won't. If it doesn't, at least we know that his ex-wife can help pay for it now -- after all, she did a lot of the shopping with the accrued debt in question.


I wish now, more than ever, that I could collect myself and keep it "together" enough to be able to work again, doing whatever I needed to do. Unfortunately, I just don't think I'd be able to. I lose my cool over the most idiotic of things, before I even realize what's happening many times. I wish it wasn't true, but it is. I blow everything out of proportion and over-analyze it and freak out over details, mere minutiae. This is a key problem associated with my borderline personality. I can't really explain it all that well other than to say that if something happens or is said to trigger a response in me, more often than not, I'm reacting to it before I have a moment to think about what just happened.

I frequently say that "other people just don't know how to act." The same can be said of myself, only I don't know how to react.

After all, I'm usually too paralyzed by fear to actually do something first. Heaven forbid someone think I'm a freak or ugly or stupid.

My thing is just that it seems that stupidity and ignorance and general ass-hattery is all too common. Why are there so many warning labels on packaging? Do we really need to tell people that it's not a good idea to let their kids play with plastic bags? Why are there noise ordinance laws in the first place? How did the world get to the point where we, who have our own country practically wired to blow with our weapons production and consumption, can point the finger at countries that do the same and say, "we don't feel safe with you having any fire power"?

Personally, I think I just got jaded somewhere along the line. I think my parents did right raising me the way they did: to be considerate towards others, always say please and thank you, and help out when I can. Don't most folks try to raise their kids that way? So what happened along the lines to make it so that more often than not, one is confronted with jerks? I don't really know, and in my search for the answer to that, I opened up a much larger can of worms than the fish I was trying to catch had an appetite for.

Now I'm left feeling more confused than refreshed, more tired than before. I'm not sure if it's the stress or the fibromyalgia anymore that is making everything so sore. Literally my entire body just aches.

I'm driving myself insane and I don't know how to get out of it. There's no doubt about it that I need help, but how to get it is a huge problem. With the diagnosis of borderline personality, there's a scant few therapists that would even be willing to refer my case, much less actually take it. Add to that our financial problems and multiply by lack of transportation (our car has problems, just like the old one, only it can actually go places.... just not out of town). I would apply for health care through the state but they still want you to pay for it -- realistically, it's just not worth it. It doesn't cover enough to warrant paying as much as it would cost.

The biggest problem, however, is still myself, as always. I am always in my own way, whether it's through bad decisions or bad reactions to situations. No matter what I do, something will go wrong, that is guaranteed.

A couple months ago, my mom was going to send my medical papers and whatnot to me so that I could begin the process of applying for disability. I don't know what happened to that plan, although I still believe that that would be my best bet, at least for the time being. Ideally, I'd like to use it to go back to school and find a field of study that would both interest me and be a viable career option. I don't want to work in restaurants all my life. I don't want to take secretarial work. I don't want to be a check out girl, either. I don't even want glitz and glamour (although I wouldn't complain, that's for sure!); I just want to find something fulfilling and meaningful that I can help support the household with.

At any rate, my point at the end of this ramble is that it really doesn't matter. That's why I never wanted this to be a personal blog -- because it doesn't really matter whether I'm happy or depressed. It doesn't matter if I wake up aching every day. It doesn't matter if I lose my head over the very thought of losing any one of the people that I love. Inevitably, all these things will have come to pass... all these things and so many more, and there isn't a damn thing I or anyone else can do to stop that. The world will go on spinning whether I'm here for the ride or not. Which begs from me my ultimate question -- what is the reason for me hanging on for this long when I should've just let go? I'm not talking about all the people I love and who care about me. That goes without saying, at least it does for me. What other, larger reason do I have to be here? I don't see a reason, in all honesty, and have grown accustomed to believing that it's all just a big joke... and I'm just the punch line.