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valarltdThat's a pretty good summation.
There is a great deal of stress in my life right now. I am being pulled a dozen different directions.
I am painfully underemployed.
My husband is between jobs for the first time since 1995. I'm proud of him, missing him, worried about him and scared for him.
I have nightmares and flashbacks to 1995-1996. I've had nightmares about Little Rock three nights running. The whole "poverty gives you PTSD" meme isn't a joke. For the first time in 17 years, we do not have a paycheck coming in on the 15 and the 30th of the month for a set amount. And this terrifies me. I've spent more time than I like to admit staring at my very full pantry reminding myself we won't starve.
There is food.
The bills are paid.
There is money in the checking account.
I have gas in the car.
I have a paycheck coming on Friday.
We'll be all right. (I have repeated this a dozen times today alone.)
Mom's in and out of the hospital. She's bleeding from places she shouldn't be. Her platelets are too low to stop it. Her blood counts are all much too low. If she falls, she could have a stroke.
The whole mess with Victoria.
The kids are fine. Chris is eating more than usual to bulk up for his next weigh-in.
I have been informed that I will be moving in 2-3 years, simply because my con-spouse is packing me in zir gear and refusing to leave me behind again.
My small press made $6 last quarter. That is not a typo. I have to go to cons. That's all there is to it. And I must get more books out and promote more heavily.
My writing isn't worth the time I spend on it. My royalties are about $30/month.
I have a moratorium on the news and on fandom at this time. I can't deal with the ongoing War on Women, being waged at state, federal and convention levels.
There is a great deal of stress in my life right now. I am being pulled a dozen different directions.
I am painfully underemployed.
My husband is between jobs for the first time since 1995. I'm proud of him, missing him, worried about him and scared for him.
I have nightmares and flashbacks to 1995-1996. I've had nightmares about Little Rock three nights running. The whole "poverty gives you PTSD" meme isn't a joke. For the first time in 17 years, we do not have a paycheck coming in on the 15 and the 30th of the month for a set amount. And this terrifies me. I've spent more time than I like to admit staring at my very full pantry reminding myself we won't starve.
There is food.
The bills are paid.
There is money in the checking account.
I have gas in the car.
I have a paycheck coming on Friday.
We'll be all right. (I have repeated this a dozen times today alone.)
Mom's in and out of the hospital. She's bleeding from places she shouldn't be. Her platelets are too low to stop it. Her blood counts are all much too low. If she falls, she could have a stroke.
The whole mess with Victoria.
The kids are fine. Chris is eating more than usual to bulk up for his next weigh-in.
I have been informed that I will be moving in 2-3 years, simply because my con-spouse is packing me in zir gear and refusing to leave me behind again.
My small press made $6 last quarter. That is not a typo. I have to go to cons. That's all there is to it. And I must get more books out and promote more heavily.
My writing isn't worth the time I spend on it. My royalties are about $30/month.
I have a moratorium on the news and on fandom at this time. I can't deal with the ongoing War on Women, being waged at state, federal and convention levels.
