I've had it to HERE with this streak o' bad shit!!! (long)

The BBQ Pit
1

For the record, I’m not one to bitch about the state of my life at any given point. However, I need to vent, and rather than doing it in a bar, where I might get drunk and get into a fight given my level of I’ve fucking had it right now, I thought I’d do it here.

Brief timeline:

Late May: I find out my mom can’t take her chemo anymore and is withdrawing herself.

Mid-July: Mom is fading fast. Dad and hospice call on the same day and tell me to get my ass home, costing nearly a grand in airfare over and above the non-refundable ticket I had purchased for late July. I haul my ass home, see my mom - the strongest person I have ever known, reduced to a bag of bones and in fairly constant agony when she’s conscious. I did get to say goodbye to her, have her and I forgive each other for whatever may have been outstanding between us, etc. I extend my trip a few days because she’s going to go at any time according to hospice and the doctor, and damn it, I want to be there for it. She was still alive when I left.

She died six days after I got back to Phoenix, and I couldn’t go back for the funeral. Not that that was such a terribly big deal, since she and I had achieved our closure face to face, but it would have been nice, you know.

My dad, whom I love dearly, is as devastated as you’d expect losing a beloved wife of over thirty years. In fact, it’s nearly all he can talk about - who said what nice thing about Mom at church on Sunday, how great one of my sisters has been since Mom died, etc. I know it’s part of the grieving and adjustment, but he just sounds so fucking torn up every time he starts talking about her (and I don’t blame him at all - hell I still break up about it sometimes) that it tears me up, and it makes it really hard to get up the motivation to call him. I do it, but it hurts every single time.
Early August: Mrs. Angel, who has never been all that crazy about Phoenix, decides she wants to open a retail shop in Williams, about 3 hours away. She knows I love the city and would die in a small town inside of a week. I have full faith we can make things work with the part time long distance things; we have an incredible relationship. Still, that’s going to suck, but I don’t begrudge her from following her dream and doing what she wants. The fact that we support each other no matter what is one of the many reasons our relationship is so great and has survived WAY worse than this.

Sept. 11: Enough said.

Last Friday, Sept. 30 (that date becomes important in a minute): I get told my company - where I’ve worked as the PR/marketing director for 2.5 years, increased media coverage by 38%, introduced an entirely new product to the industry, led the company to complete dominance of the most important market segment for its product and secured it major industry awards - “can’t afford” me anymore. They’re outsourcing my job to try to get some quicker market expansion in some new verticals and save a little $$$. Mind you, they’re paying me between 10 and 18 thousand below market average for my position, and I’ve turned down offers almost double my salary because I love the damn place.

On top of this lovely gesture, as a parting gift, I get a 3 week severance package. Oooo. Ahhh. Thanks and fuck you very much.

Tonight, Mrs. Angel and I find out she has a medical condition which will require (thankfully) fairly minor surgery within the next few weeks. Guess what, my insurance expired at midnight Oct. 1, nine hours after I got shitcanned. So, we have to figure out to pay for this out of pocket, and there ain’t a hell of a lot of surplus in the coffer right now, if you know what I mean.

So, to any and every force out there who has any inkling to thrown any more bad shit my way fuck you. I know there are lots of people lots worse off than I am, but still, I’ve fucking had it, you no-load, pus nutted, dingleberry tonguing, queef huffing, scrotum-ironing shitty excuse for a streak of events. Leave me alone. Let me hit the powerball drawing (all six numbers please). Let me lock onto that really great training directorship I applied for. Let something truly spectacularly great happen for a fucking change.
I don’t remember the last time I got any majorly good news, and I’m more than ready to not be able to say that for a good long while.

FUCK!!!

2

Shit-oh-dear pal, sounds like you’ve had more than enough.

Try not to grudge your dad’s harping on your mom, but at the same time give yourself a break. Call him once a week at the most and take some time off. Try to focus on Mrs. Angel and geting your own butt back behind a desk.

I’ve got one doper in line before you, but if you want me to do a quick review of your resume, feel free to delete your name and address and email me a copy. I’ll see what I can do to spruce it up for you and give some pointers.

Sure sounds like you’ve had your fill lately. May fortune smile on you… and d@mn soon!

3

Wow. Different circumstances, same exact feeling of wanting to kick the fates in the nads. I wish I had something warm, witty or wise to offer you, FallenAngel. FWIW, let it be known that I’ll listen to you vent in a bar at any time.

Care to borrow my mantra? I’ve been using it for a year now. It’s a little soiled, but it’s great when I wake up at 300a with the night sweats.

A year from now this will seem like a bad dream. A year from now this will seem like a bad dream. A year from now…

I’ve been using it for a year. Perhaps you can have this one and I’ll go in for the five year model.

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Zenster, thanks buddy. Just to clarify a oint, I don’t grudge Dad anything. It just reinforces how much I miss her everytime I talk to him. That, combined with the fact that he’s 78 years old, and also incredibly strong but can’t talk about anything without mentioning Mom worries me senseless and keeps my own wound open at the same time.

I’ve already has my res reviewed - not being a complete idiot, I always keep it up to date - but I REALLY appreciate the offer. If I don’t get any nibbles in the next few weeks, I’ll take you up on it.

Nymysys, thanks for actually giving me a laugh. I think I’ll let you keep your mantra, since it seems to be working so well for you and all. I’ve been using Mom’s mantra: “If it’ll be funny five years from now, it’s funny now. You may as well laugh as cry.” Granted, not a lot in this lineup would ever be “funny” in the traditional sense, but I’m taking it to mean “a story you can tell with a grateful smile that it has passed.” Load of shit, but it keeps me from screaming at 3 a.m. Mrs. Angel needs her rest.

The thing that scares me most, truth be told, is that I am and have always been a ridiculously tough son of a bitch (with full respect to Mom). I don’t mean getting into unnecessary fights or any of that macho juvenile bullshit. I just mean that no matter what has ever been thrown at me, and some of the stories would make any one of these entries seem pretty weak with the expection of 9/11, I’ve been able to take it and go on, and all the above mentioned shit is no different.

That resoluteness has served me well, but I’m becoming really scared of my natural tendency to say, “Well, damn. What’s fucking NEXT?” Seems lately everytime I ask, there’s some asshole working desk duty willing to give me a god damned answer.

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Oh, for what it’s worth, Nymysys, if your ever in Phoenix, drop me a note and we can trade rounds and vents at any bar you want.

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Oh, I agree absolutely with the above statement. Most of the shit that’s been going on in my life would be fairly easy to deal with by itself. However, it’s amazing what the cumulative effect can do. I came home tonight to find ants have invaded. I walk to the ATM to get out the rent money I begged from a friend, only to find I’ve left my card at home. Shit like this now makes me, usually a fairly even-keeled and cheerful person, absolutely lose my shit. I’ve noticed a tendency to cringe whenever I have to walk out the door/answer the phone/wake up/breathe these days. Just waiting for that safe to finally drop out of the sky.

I was saying the other night on the phone to Anamorphic, the worst part for me is I just plain ol’ don’t remember what it’s like to be happy anymore. I’ve had some fun here and there, and I’ve certainly had stretches where I’ve made peace with the shit-trough that is my life currently, but happy? Sorry, wrong number.

sigh First round is on me, babe. We’ll record the entire night, then play it back in five years and laugh. Right? RIGHT?

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AND I make no good goddamn sense anymore. Insult to injury.

Let’s change that to “…absolutely turn into a deranged, evil monkey. With nunchucks.”
<grumble, mutter, snort>

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On the bright side, per Frau Drop…

Hospitals are happy to work out an easy paying plan–often without interest!–for people in your situation. Talk to them.

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Oh fuck, Nymysys, your statement was absolutely coherent to me. I may be worse off than I thought.

I know what you mean about the happy thing. Sure, I have a genuine laugh from time to time, and it’s not like I’m wallowing in doldrums (doldra?) or anything, but a good stretch of honest to gods happy would be pretty welcome right about now.

On the upside, at least with the ants you can teach yourself that flamenco dancing you’ve always wanted to learn while simultaneously erradicating the pests.

And yes, by all that is, we WILL laugh about this five years from now.

dropzone, way ahead of you on that one, compadre. It’s not going to be pretty, and I detest adding one more bill to the pile right now, but it beats coming up with the whole nut. Thanks for the thought, though; it’s much appreciated.

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FallenAngel, I thought everyone was entitled to get COBRA and had 30 days or so to sign up and that it is retro back to when you were canned.

Am I wrong?

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No helpful hints here, but an assurance that even the worst stretch of time does indeed fucking end. Grit your teeth, keep on going and eventually the crap will stop.

Then you have to deal with waiting for the sky to fall. (I call it the Chicken Little syndrome, from my own personal experiance.) Once you are used to life going to shit every second its hard to deal with the space where its getting better.

And then it will be okay. Normalish. Happy. And you will have a dozen or half a dozen more crises that you have kicked the ever loving shit out of under your belt.

I’m sure you can do it.

(And toss a backrub in for Mrs Angel and yourself.)

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FallenAngel, Good luck to you. I know exactly where you are coming from. With the events of 9/11, then my husband has been laid off from an Airlines after 11 years of service with no severance pay. We don’t know what we are going to do. All of the T.V. channels keep showing all of this terrible news flashing on bottom of the TV all of the time and it just frazzles your nerves and just makes you wonder, does anyone have any good news or have anything nice to say??? Sometimes it is too much. I say they need to start flashing happy, stupid stuff on the bottom of the TV like “Oh, by the way have a happy Wednesday :-)”

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clarissa, thanks for the thought, but I’d already looked into it. Yes, I can get COBRA (despite my snake phobia), but one month will cost $28 more than the procedure itself. Lovely irony when your insurance follow-through will cost more than the operation it’s needed for.

MC Mrs. Angel and I both gratefully accept the backrub. I’ll let her go first (and longest), of course. I’m getting used to not being able to fully roll my shoulders back from the stress that has taken up living there.

You know, Mom and my sensei both always taught me this kind of crap was good for me. “It builds character.” I have enough (am enough of a?) character, thank you very much.

Pepsigirl, I love your good news idea. Would it really kill anybody to run something like, “Puppies are really cute and make you feel good to pet. Here’s a picture of one chasing a bug across the lawn,” for 15 seconds in between the violence, mayhem and dispair? I don’t think so.

And while I’m really self-absorbed (and Mrs. Angel absorbed too, of course) right now, please accept my condolences for your situation and my best wishes for your family. May things turn around for you and yours every bit as quickly as I want them to turn around for me and mine.

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Oh…ma…gawd…

Thats incredible. Talk about a bad run. :frowning:

Maybe you should consider relocating to the small town, the only place on earth I feel ‘okay’ is my mom’s tiny hometown.

Sometimes a small place can be very healing.

My mother had a saying too: if nobody is is sick and nobody is dying, nothing else matters.

Of course she doesnt say THAT anymore, but you can use it! You still have MrsAngel, who must be a peach to have landed you, you still have your health and the freedom to start over and do anything you ever wanted!

I got ‘downsized’ (funny, I dont LOOK smaller!) last December, now I am attending school on a govt grant, and school is fan-fucking-tastic!

Find your opportunity my friend, sometimes we cant do what we really want because we are tied to our jobs, you are free now, * enjoy it*! Write a book, read a book, sleep late, paint…there must be something buried way down inside wanting out…

good luck to you :slight_smile:

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kellibelli, thanks for the post, dear. With all yo’ve got going on right now, it means a lot.

Mrs. Angel is indeed a peach. I wonder what karma points she’s working off by being with me (Kidding mostly, but one of the ways to define love is to think in some small part of yourself that you don’t deserve the person you’re with but are damn lucky that they do.).

I grew up in a small town. I hate them. A lot. They can be great for a few days, but more than that and I really start to lose my marbles. I was born a city boy. It just took me 17 years until I could become one.

The nice thing about the impending distance is that I’ll be able to go to a small town for a few days, and she’ll be able to come to a city for a few days, we’ll both get our fixes of logistics and each other in ways we normally wouldn’t.

I am writing a book (actually, a couple). I’ve always been a writer; I just do the corporate thing to pay bills. I have one novel and a couple dozen short stories finished (not yet commercially published), another novel halfway done, a third about 1/8 drafted and a collection of more than 120 poems (one of which is in the new “Teemings”).

I normally write in the evenings for a couple hours after the Mrs. goes to bed. Now, in addition to the job hunt, I have time during the day to do it as well. I’ve been putting it to good use. Unless meditating, I’ve never been one to sit and stare at walls.

Thanks again, and the offer I made in your thread always stands.

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FallenAngel, Thank you! I should tell CNN that my cocker Spaniel is available for moral boosting news breaking stories.

Kellibelli - I read your thread too yesterday but my computer crashed. My thoughts are with you and your family. My cocker spaniel is available for hugs too :slight_smile: