I can't walk through life facing backwards
I have tried
I tried more than once to just make sure
And I was denied the future I'd been searching for
from Living in the Moment, Jason Mraz
I use my past to help me understand my present and plan for the future, but I don't like to be someone who is constantly hashing over regrets from my past. I like to look forward and let my past be past.
Lessons learned. I move on.
This writing about the past is therapeutic and I hope that somewhere in all of this navel gazing and personal reflection, someone who reads these other than myself will find something that they can relate to, something that makes them not feel alone and maybe even something that makes them feel better about their own journey. For me, this is a way to have a record of what I've gone through so that when I'm old and withered, I can read these posts and laugh about how many experiences I've gone through and how I'm still alive.
A recent interviewer asked me to give one adjective to describe my life so far and I said "resilient" because no matter what gets tossed at me, no matter how low I go, I claw my way back out and keep moving forward. Even when I'm researching how many sleeping pills a person of my weight would have to take to effectively end life and not just cause brain damage for someone else to have to take care of.. even then... I'm thinking of the other things I could possibly do before I got to that point.
As October came to an end, I had nearly a month of unemployment under my belt and I'll be honest, it all felt like just taking an extended leave from work. I hadn't been happy there and the atmosphere was toxic most days. I would get sucked into the drama and negativity. I kept saying to myself that if I could have some time off, I could get my head back together and shake off the negative stuff attached to me. My company did me a favor of sorts by letting me go. It was not the best timing as I had no preparations made for it, but it did give me time to get my stuff together.
The interview mentioned in the previous blog about my unemployment had gone well and the HR person said that the next step was a meeting with the department heads that the position would be working for. She said I'd hear "something" by Wednesday of the following week. I was so sure I had gotten the job that I was looking at apartments in Hampton where the job was located. I didn't want to have to deal with the commute each day and my apartment complex's management company had properties in Hampton. I figured I could just transfer my lease and then beg able and willing friends to help me move.
Wednesday came and went and the glow started to wear off. I sent follow up emails which yielded no responses.
Then, one day, about two weeks after the interview, I noticed that another job had been posted by the company that had interviewed me and it had a different name, but all of the same job functions. I sent another email to the HR person asking if I could be considered for that one, too. I decided to play dumb and think of it as a second position. I finally got a response from the company that they had chosen another person over me. To console me, the HR person told me I was the second choice. It didn't help. Second place is just first loser in my book.
I hadn't stopped my daily routine while I was waiting. I was still getting up every day and plugging along. Applying for jobs and networking. Like the Energizer bunny, I kept going and going.
Around mid-November, my panic attacks and insomnia started to show up more frequently. I would lie in bed at night and just cry for hours because I was so scared. By mid November, most of the people who had been reaching out to me in October and sending me messages of support and such had disappeared into the woodwork. I had (and still have) a few dedicated souls who were perfect throughout this entire thing. They knew me well enough to know when to offer advice, when to ask how things are going, when to try to make me laugh, when to distract me, etc. I am so appreciative of those people who had my back and had faith in me when I didn't have faith in me. They knew that I didn't need links emailed to me about jobs. They knew I didn't need scripture or bible passages quoted to me. They knew I didn't need judgment and incredulous "They laid you off? Really?" type messages. I felt beat up explaining myself over and over. I needed people to just check on ME, talk to ME, give me something I could use... a couch to sleep on if I couldn't afford rent, the name of someone at a company who would take my resume directly, gift cards for fuel and food, coupons, etc. I would get preachy "you should be more positive" messages from people who obviously meant well but you can't just tell a person who is feeling like crap to smile and everything will be okay. Every night, I would look at my bank balance and mentally calculate how many days and how many dollars until I was homeless. It was frustrating and even worse, I wasn't allowed to be myself and tell these people to bugger off because they weren't helping. "What do you need? How can I help?" Those were what I needed to hear. I felt like most of the people in my life had decided that this was my mess to clean up and aside from tossing the casual "hang in there", they had no obligation to help me. "She's a tough bitch. She'll figure this out." I am tough. I am figuring it out. But, I'd like to not have to be the tough one. Just once.
Every time someone sent me a link to a job that I wasn't even remotely qualified for, I felt like they weren't trusting me to find a job or look for a job. I know part of it is that they don't know what it's like and they wanted to be helpful, but it wasn't helpful. I would receive messages from people wanting to tell me stories about someone they knew who was out of work for months, even years. I had people joking about my extended vacation. I had people "praying" for me and telling me to go to church and hand this over to God. Not to discount the power of prayer or the existence of a higher being, but I wasn't going to show up at some church only to tell everyone I needed help when I couldn't be bothered to go any other time. Prayers don't pay bills. My landlord takes dollars.
As November rolled to an end, my spirit started to really drag. No interviews were coming in. I had been applying for part time work, seasonal work, work at home gigs, temp jobs, contract jobs. If I felt remotely qualified, I'd apply. I was applying here, in Ohio, in Pennsylvania, in Northern Virginia, and all parts of Hampton Roads.
I thought I was the shit when I started my job search because I arrogantly looked at my resume and said, "I am so smart. I am so skilled. I will have a job in no time flat." I also thought that the fact that I was currently unemployed would appeal to some. I could start right away. I was hungry. I was eager to work. Motivated to work. Desperate to work. It is very humbling to realize that compared to all of the other people who are applying for the very same jobs, I am unremarkable. There are probably 10 other people just like me. Maybe even younger and thinner and healthier. I know companies won't tell you that they take age and weight into consideration, but they do. I know they do. I used to be on the hiring side. Younger workers will work longer hours for less pay because they want to get promoted before they turn 30. The past two supervisors I had were almost 20 years younger than myself.
Right before Thanksgiving, I had an interview for a training position for a finance company. I had a very long phone interview with a recruiter then a face to face with two representatives of the company. About 10 minutes into the interview, I knew that there was no job for me. Oh, I was super qualified for it and could have done it in my sleep. However, when I asked when they hoped to fill the position, they looked at each other and laughed and said, "Well, we've been looking since June and when we find the right person, we'll know." When I asked if the position was to replace someone who left or a new position, they told me that the current trainer said that she needed help so they created this new position to help her. The way they said it made me feel like they were doing this to just appease some poor overworked person and that they were probably going back to said person and telling her that there were no good candidates. I knew I didn't want to work for a company like that but I also knew that I couldn't say no if they offered because I really needed a job. They said I'd hear "sometime after the holiday".
I knew that the week of Thanksgiving would be a miss for any sort of interviews and contacts, so I gave myself most of the week off. I pretended I was on vacation and didn't stress myself out as much about getting in X number applications per day. I played games online. I watched television. I slept in. I stayed up late. I bought Boston Market.
Still, at night, when everything was quiet and I was all alone with myself and my thoughts, I would lie there and feel helpless and hopeless. Why me? What did I do to deserve this? Is God trying to teach me a lesson of some sort?
The worst part is that when everyone I knew was posting all of the things they were grateful for and gearing up for the holidays, I was sinking into a deep depression because I did have things to be grateful for but the things I didn't have stood out more. Yeah, I hated my job, but I did it well and would have gone on forever doing it because I needed it. But, being without one, even with the small unemployment checks I received, and not having anything or anyone else around to help... it makes a person question just about everything in their life.
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
All About That Bass
Yeah, it's pretty clear, I ain't no size two
But I can shake it, shake it
Like I'm supposed to do
'Cause I got that boom boom that all the boys chase
And all the right junk in all the right places
I see the magazine workin' that Photoshop
We know that shit ain't real
C'mon now, make it stop
If you got beauty, beauty, just raise 'em up
'Cause every inch of you is perfect
From the bottom to the top
from All About That Bass
It's not a secret that I am a big person. Bigger than big, actually. I don't like being big but I dislike exercise more than I dislike being big. I could give you excuses for why I'm big - medical problems, medications, genetics, environment, budget, depression - but I won't. I know I am big. I know what I need to do to not be big. I just struggle with exercise because I hate it. I've tried all sorts of fun things to make it more appealing but I can't make myself do it. Not alone or with a friend. This blog is not about that, though.
This blog is about my disappointment in television shows about obese people. Reality shows about what it's like to be an obese person.
A few years ago, there was a show called Ruby about this morbidly obese woman in Georgia trying to lose weight and cameras followed her around while she bitched and moaned for two seasons with people enabling her to be fat and whiny. She had a roommate, lived off of disability because she said she had health issues that prevented her from working (yet they didn't prevent her from filming a tv show), and had a fabulous gay male friend and a chubby female friend to hang out with. She also had a manipulative ex boyfriend who would show up every now and then to reinforce that big women can get laid by seemingly normal and even attractive men on occasion. I liked the show initially because she seemed positive and upbeat and making strides to change public opinion of obese people. Then, it just became a show about her whining and bitching about life, getting frustrated and it was the same old same old over and over. I felt frustrated that they couldn't show what it's like for a person who has a job and doesn't have overly supportive and fabulous gay besties to help her stay fluffy and wonderful. The show eventually got cancelled.
Now, there's a show called My Big Fat Fabulous Life based on this woman who is a dancer who put a video of herself dancing and TLC decided she would be interesting enough for an entire reality show. I mean -- omg, a fat girl who can dance? What are the chances?
Well, of course, she lives in the South, too, lives with her parents, doesn't have a job and has, you guessed it, a fabulous gay male friend or two. She even has a chubby female friend and a straight male friend who used to be a boyfriend. It's Ruby 2.0. Only - this show is different. It's different because this woman was once skinny. She was an aspiring dancer. Then, she was diagnosed with a disease that caused her gain a lot of weight in a short period of time. She loves to point out that no matter what, she's going to be big and keep gaining weight, so any weight she loses is to either maintain her current weight or to make room for future gain. She emphasizes that she can be fit and fat at the same time and that aside from her illness, she is no different than anyone else. However, as the show has progressed, there hasn't really been much emphasis on that. She eats mayonnaise and banana sandwiches for breakfast and complains when her doting dad makes her protein based meals.
As I'm watching her ask her mom to shave her legs for her because she's too big to do it and as she changes clothing in the middle of a public parking lot because her ass ripped a hole in her stretch pants, it occurred to me that as much as I like to clamor for fat acceptance in this world and for people to understand what it's like, as long as there are shows like this on, no one will ever really take being fat as something that they need to understand. It's not a disability or handicap. It's a life choice.
I want to see a show about real people trying to make their marks.. not people who live with their parents and whose sole claim to fame is the fact that they did a dance video. She is trying to prove to everyone that she is still that thin person she once was and flip flops from wanting acceptance as a fat person to wanting to be a thin person. She cries one moment because people are mean and then flips her hair and becomes super sassy the next, as if it's no biggee. She doesn't seem authentic. The woman is a slob and sadly, like the previous show, just reinforces a common stereotype about obese people -- that we're lazy, dirty, sloppy and make bad food choices and deserve to be ridiculed because if we had more gumption and more motivation, then we'd just stop being obese.
Another startling reality I had while watching the show is that I don't feel comfortable seeing other morbidly obese people. I'm not talking about overweight or curvy people. I'm talking about those people who are hundreds of pounds overweight, like myself. In my head, I'm not obese. In my dreams, I'm not obese. Most women look in a mirror and see a person who is bigger. I look in the mirror and think that the mirror is lying and that I'm really smaller than what I'm seeing. It's not until I see a photo or video of myself that I realize it's "real". It's not until I try on clothing that is the size of a small tent and realize it's real. Other than the gym thing, I don't have any of the other traits. I'm tidy. I'm organized. I don't chow down on junk food. I can shave my legs. I am not gross and I do not have a fabulous gay best friend. Or an attractive brooding ex boyfriend. I am lazy in the sense that I don't like to go to the gym, and that I will choose a nap over going to the gym, but you won't find me lying on the sofa eating chips or complaining to my faboo gay bestie about my life. Unless I'm sick, I try to do something. Just not exercise.
I think that is why I have such a hard time with my self confidence and self esteem. I represent something I find unattractive and unappealing. I don't want to believe it. I want to be okay with it. I'm not. I feel like I should apologize for being fat and for taking up space. Yet, I can't make myself change it. Self sabotage, anyone?
This also makes me wonder why I want to see a show on fat acceptance with real fat people and not internet created sensations. Is my own disgust based on the fact that I don't believe anyone else can find a fat person to be attractive and without the negative connotations that come with being fat? Or, am I the voice of reason for people who are fooling themselves by believing that as long as they proclaim that they are okay with being fat and that their lives are fabulous then it shall be so?
A long time ago, I had a conversation with a therapist who suggested that I refuse to lose weight because as long as I'm fat, it's my protection, my barrier from the real world. I can say men won't date me because I'm fat. I can say I can't do something I don't want to do because I'm fat. I can say I don't have many friends because I'm fat. I can let people laugh at me and mock me because I'm fat. But, if I lose the weight and all of the things still exist, then what will I blame it on then?
While I've been unemployed (and yes, I know that I left a cliffhanger at the end of the last blog, but I'm pretty sure you can figure out I didn't get the job), all I keep thinking about is how I need to make a change in my personal life.
But, what if I make a change and nothing changes? Will I be just like a cancelled reality show that missed the mark? What if I'm just like everyone else?
But I can shake it, shake it
Like I'm supposed to do
'Cause I got that boom boom that all the boys chase
And all the right junk in all the right places
I see the magazine workin' that Photoshop
We know that shit ain't real
C'mon now, make it stop
If you got beauty, beauty, just raise 'em up
'Cause every inch of you is perfect
From the bottom to the top
from All About That Bass
It's not a secret that I am a big person. Bigger than big, actually. I don't like being big but I dislike exercise more than I dislike being big. I could give you excuses for why I'm big - medical problems, medications, genetics, environment, budget, depression - but I won't. I know I am big. I know what I need to do to not be big. I just struggle with exercise because I hate it. I've tried all sorts of fun things to make it more appealing but I can't make myself do it. Not alone or with a friend. This blog is not about that, though.
This blog is about my disappointment in television shows about obese people. Reality shows about what it's like to be an obese person.
A few years ago, there was a show called Ruby about this morbidly obese woman in Georgia trying to lose weight and cameras followed her around while she bitched and moaned for two seasons with people enabling her to be fat and whiny. She had a roommate, lived off of disability because she said she had health issues that prevented her from working (yet they didn't prevent her from filming a tv show), and had a fabulous gay male friend and a chubby female friend to hang out with. She also had a manipulative ex boyfriend who would show up every now and then to reinforce that big women can get laid by seemingly normal and even attractive men on occasion. I liked the show initially because she seemed positive and upbeat and making strides to change public opinion of obese people. Then, it just became a show about her whining and bitching about life, getting frustrated and it was the same old same old over and over. I felt frustrated that they couldn't show what it's like for a person who has a job and doesn't have overly supportive and fabulous gay besties to help her stay fluffy and wonderful. The show eventually got cancelled.
Now, there's a show called My Big Fat Fabulous Life based on this woman who is a dancer who put a video of herself dancing and TLC decided she would be interesting enough for an entire reality show. I mean -- omg, a fat girl who can dance? What are the chances?
Well, of course, she lives in the South, too, lives with her parents, doesn't have a job and has, you guessed it, a fabulous gay male friend or two. She even has a chubby female friend and a straight male friend who used to be a boyfriend. It's Ruby 2.0. Only - this show is different. It's different because this woman was once skinny. She was an aspiring dancer. Then, she was diagnosed with a disease that caused her gain a lot of weight in a short period of time. She loves to point out that no matter what, she's going to be big and keep gaining weight, so any weight she loses is to either maintain her current weight or to make room for future gain. She emphasizes that she can be fit and fat at the same time and that aside from her illness, she is no different than anyone else. However, as the show has progressed, there hasn't really been much emphasis on that. She eats mayonnaise and banana sandwiches for breakfast and complains when her doting dad makes her protein based meals.
As I'm watching her ask her mom to shave her legs for her because she's too big to do it and as she changes clothing in the middle of a public parking lot because her ass ripped a hole in her stretch pants, it occurred to me that as much as I like to clamor for fat acceptance in this world and for people to understand what it's like, as long as there are shows like this on, no one will ever really take being fat as something that they need to understand. It's not a disability or handicap. It's a life choice.
I want to see a show about real people trying to make their marks.. not people who live with their parents and whose sole claim to fame is the fact that they did a dance video. She is trying to prove to everyone that she is still that thin person she once was and flip flops from wanting acceptance as a fat person to wanting to be a thin person. She cries one moment because people are mean and then flips her hair and becomes super sassy the next, as if it's no biggee. She doesn't seem authentic. The woman is a slob and sadly, like the previous show, just reinforces a common stereotype about obese people -- that we're lazy, dirty, sloppy and make bad food choices and deserve to be ridiculed because if we had more gumption and more motivation, then we'd just stop being obese.
Another startling reality I had while watching the show is that I don't feel comfortable seeing other morbidly obese people. I'm not talking about overweight or curvy people. I'm talking about those people who are hundreds of pounds overweight, like myself. In my head, I'm not obese. In my dreams, I'm not obese. Most women look in a mirror and see a person who is bigger. I look in the mirror and think that the mirror is lying and that I'm really smaller than what I'm seeing. It's not until I see a photo or video of myself that I realize it's "real". It's not until I try on clothing that is the size of a small tent and realize it's real. Other than the gym thing, I don't have any of the other traits. I'm tidy. I'm organized. I don't chow down on junk food. I can shave my legs. I am not gross and I do not have a fabulous gay best friend. Or an attractive brooding ex boyfriend. I am lazy in the sense that I don't like to go to the gym, and that I will choose a nap over going to the gym, but you won't find me lying on the sofa eating chips or complaining to my faboo gay bestie about my life. Unless I'm sick, I try to do something. Just not exercise.
I think that is why I have such a hard time with my self confidence and self esteem. I represent something I find unattractive and unappealing. I don't want to believe it. I want to be okay with it. I'm not. I feel like I should apologize for being fat and for taking up space. Yet, I can't make myself change it. Self sabotage, anyone?
This also makes me wonder why I want to see a show on fat acceptance with real fat people and not internet created sensations. Is my own disgust based on the fact that I don't believe anyone else can find a fat person to be attractive and without the negative connotations that come with being fat? Or, am I the voice of reason for people who are fooling themselves by believing that as long as they proclaim that they are okay with being fat and that their lives are fabulous then it shall be so?
A long time ago, I had a conversation with a therapist who suggested that I refuse to lose weight because as long as I'm fat, it's my protection, my barrier from the real world. I can say men won't date me because I'm fat. I can say I can't do something I don't want to do because I'm fat. I can say I don't have many friends because I'm fat. I can let people laugh at me and mock me because I'm fat. But, if I lose the weight and all of the things still exist, then what will I blame it on then?
While I've been unemployed (and yes, I know that I left a cliffhanger at the end of the last blog, but I'm pretty sure you can figure out I didn't get the job), all I keep thinking about is how I need to make a change in my personal life.
But, what if I make a change and nothing changes? Will I be just like a cancelled reality show that missed the mark? What if I'm just like everyone else?
Thursday, January 22, 2015
The First Thing I Do...
There are three things I do when my life falls apart
Number one I cry my eyes out and dry up my heart
Not until I do this will my new life start
So that’s the first thing that I do when my life falls apart.
I had planned on waiting until I had a job before writing a blog about my unemployment but have decided to start on the installments since it has taken longer than I expected.
October 3, 2014 seemed like any other day in my life. I got up, got dressed and went to work. I was there early as usual and got right to work on end of the month reports for my boss. I needed to leave early that day for a doctor's appointment and worked through lunch. I had all of the reporting done by noon and took a quick 15 minute break, something I don't normally do, and picked up some soup from a local food truck and went back to my desk. The energy all week had been kind of off in the office. I couldn't put my finger on it, but management seemed stressed and my supervisor seemed to be in some weird distant place every time I tried to talk to him about anything. I recall making a comment to a co-worker that "something was brewing" and my gut didn't like the feeling. I'm particularly susceptible to people's energy and things were tense and just.. weird.. for lack of a better word. Little did I know how right I was.
Around 2:15, I got an IM from my boss's boss's boss asking me to meet him in HR. It's never good when you are asked to meet someone in HR near the end of the day on a Friday. I took my purse because I was supposed to be leaving at 2:30 for my doctor's appointment and figured I'd leave from there. I didn't realize walking into that room that I'd be leaving and not returning.
Reduction in Force. I get to go down in history as one of the few people my company has ever laid off. In the nearly 7 years that I was there, I couldn't really think of anyone who had been laid off. They always found another job for anyone whose position was being eliminated. At first, being me, I didn't accept it. I literally said, "This is a joke, right?" and looked from the HR manager to my boss's boss. No sympathy in those eyes. No acknowledgment of what they were doing. Just... "It's not you. It's me. Please leave."
They took my badge and keys and walked me out like a common criminal. I asked if I could say good bye. I was told no. I was so embarrassed being walked out. I knew that within 15 minutes of my leaving the building, everyone who saw the walk of shame would be gossiping about it. That's how it works there. One of my co-worker is notorious for being one of the first to share gossip so I texted her and told her I had been let go. I wanted to make sure that it was clear I hadn't been fired.
I sat in my car for a few minutes, numb. It felt like I'd been fired. It didn't feel like a valid exit. All of the things went through my head that goes through anyone's head during a time like this. I'm a good worker. I don't abuse the system. Why am I being let go but my co-workers who creep in late, leave early and take numerous "breaks" all day long get to keep their jobs? Then, I called my doctor and broke my appointment because it was for FMLA paperwork that I wouldn't be needing anymore. Then, I texted someone I thought would understand, someone who would be rightly outraged on my behalf, someone who had an opportunity to be a really good friend, someone who, sadly, chose to hijack my moment of sharing and respond that they hated their job and wished they could be fired. Then... I cried.
I cried all the drive home. I don't even remember the drive. I was on auto-pilot. I came home, sat in a chair in my living room and just cried. A teammate sent me a text telling me he'd be there for me if I wanted to talk but I was afraid it was a trick - that someone wanted him to text me to get the scoop and HR was very very clear that I was not to discuss the details of what happened with anyone from work, on that day and for several weeks afterward. I'm not entirely sure what the repercussions were but I couldn't risk any more negative action from them.
Within an hour of being laid off, I was in action mode. That's how I am. I allow myself some self-pity time but then I have to do something. I was online researching unemployment, food stamps, medicare/medicaid, low-income housing, etc. I was checking my bank balance and mentally calculating if I had enough money to cover October's bills. I was emailing people whom had talked to me about jobs in the past. I was reaching out to former co-workers asking if they knew of any jobs. Before the weekend was over, I had already applied for 7 jobs and started my unemployment process. In my mind, this was going to be a quick process and my company had done me a favor. I was just too chicken to look outside the company for something new - the devil you know versus the devil you don't and all of that. Plus, I kept hoping karma would catch up with everyone else and if I just kept my mouth shut, did my job and kept my nose clean, I'd be the one coming out on top. If I had known what was going to happen to me, I think I probably would have taken more breaks and my full lunch more often.
In my mind, I had this great fantasy that I was going to just get a new job right away and then post it on LinkedIn and everyone who could see my profile would be envious that I had gotten out. Like a prisoner who is still stuck on the inside watching a former prisoner get paroled.
A friend helped me secure a freelance part-time writing gig about a week after I lost my job and I saw this as a sign that things would be okay. I'd earn some money and experience writing and then be able to keep that as a side source of income once I got a full time job. It wasn't going to be much work and sporadic at best, but it was going to be something.
I tried to keep my routine as normal as possible. I didn't get up at 6:30 a.m. like I used to, but I was still getting up before 8:00 a.m. and I would hop on the computer and spend my day looking for work. This was my new job. I registered with every temp agency I could find. I updated my resume on all of the major job boards. I updated my profile on LinkedIn. I checked craigslist. I signed up for talent networks at major corporations. I googled and searched, searched and applied. I tweaked my resume about a dozen times, trying to make it stand out. Every job application had its own resume and cover letter. I applied for food stamps and medical assistance and got turned down. I was accepted for unemployment but it would take a few weeks to kick in. I cashed out my 401k, a life insurance policy and waited patiently for my final check from my job. I figured that I would be "fine" until the end of November if all the money could make it to me by the end of October. It was hairy. I was pretty panicked. A few friends sent me some cash to help with groceries and day-to-day expenses. A few others sent me a few gift cards. Early birthday gifts. I knew I had no safety net and I kept trying to explain to people what that feels like, but it's hard to explain something they don't understand. Everyone has someone it seems. I don't. Not really. I've always been a bit of a loner and my family has not really been that supportive of me. I got a lot of "I'm thinking of you", "I'm praying for you" and "Hang In There" comments. It was frustrating. When you are lying in bed, trying to not think of the "worst case" scenario, the prayers and well wishes seem hollow. I can't go to my landlord and say, "Hey, I can't make rent this month but three of my friends prayed for me last night so it's going to be okay."
I wrote to my landlord and car finance company asking for some sort of assistance. I proposed to my landlord that since they had an opening for a leasing agent, they could hire me and/or reduce my rent and help me avoid possible eviction. That didn't happen. They were not sympathetic at all and reiterated the late fee and eviction policy. I didn't understand it. If you have someone who has lived in your complex for over 6 years and has never been late and is a good renter, why can't you work with them? Especially when you have open position within your company and you could be the hero to help someone out? They had the opportunity to have a renter for life. Now, I can't wait until I can find a different place and leave this place. My car finance company gave me a two month deferral of payments for October and November, resuming in December.
I decided to spend some time on self maintenance while I still had insurance. I got my teeth cleaned. Twice. I got new glasses. Bifocals. Then, I started to have serious stomach issues and had to also add a series of X-rays and an emergency room visit to my month. I have to tell you - I can definitely see why people manufacture illnesses to go to the hospital. I felt so safe and tended to in the hospital. I had the most kind male nurse ever who brought me blankets and water and a remote control for the television and checked on me. They weren't able to find anything wrong with me and said it was most likely stress and sent me home. I got a nice $1500 invoice for my troubles. It's still unpaid.
I also decided to take advantage of the maintenance services of my apartment complex. I requested a clean out and repainting of my utility closet because there was mold growing on the walls from previous water leaks and the apartment reeked of mildew. Then, when that didn't get rid of the smell, I wrangled a free carpet cleaning out of them. That still didn't get rid of the smell and the carpet returned to its dingy self once the carpets dried. You get what you pay for.
I learned to love ramen noodles and eating what I already have on hand instead of running to the grocery store for deli foods and prepared foods. I allowed myself $20 a week for groceries - to get staples like milk, eggs, fresh fruit. I learned to maximize that money by looking for double coupon days and bogo deals. I explored Dollar Tree's frozen foods and canned goods.
I started to sleep a little later on Mondays and enjoy late night television. Weekends meant nothing. Every day was the same. The only difference with Saturday and Sunday was that no one would be calling for interviews.
However, as the third week of October rolled around and the only interviews I could get were with insurance companies looking for motivated, self starters to work strictly on commission from home, without benefits, selling insurance products, I started to get a little worried. Luckily, I had gotten all of the funds I was waiting on and told myself I had bought myself another month. Now, I needed to find something by the end of November. I told myself to just sit back and take a breath and let things happen. I kept applying. Kept networking. Every day, get up, do it all over again. Lather, rinse, repeat. Persistence pays off. My mood was still mostly positive. More good than bad. More up than down. "This is going to be a great story some day," I said. I was (and still am) keeping a journal of everything I did each day from how many jobs I applied for, what companies, where I went, what I did, what I ate, anything special about that day, my mood, my health, etc.
In the meantime, I dealt with several messages from former colleagues doing some curiosity seeking and trying to get me to tell them what had happened. I refrained from saying too much.
Then, the week of my birthday, I got a call for an interview for an administrative job that was right up my alley. The company seemed solid. The pay was good. THEY found me online and reached out to me, asking me to apply for the position.
The interview went well. They told me all about the company and even sent me to speak with someone about benefits who spent 10 minutes going over all of the benefits options, vacation, holidays, etc. They gave me a glossy folder with information inside about the company's policies. Why give that to someone if you weren't interested. I thought for sure that this was the break. The one. They told me I'd hear from them within a week.
Was it too good to be true?
To be continued....
Number one I cry my eyes out and dry up my heart
Not until I do this will my new life start
So that’s the first thing that I do when my life falls apart.
I had planned on waiting until I had a job before writing a blog about my unemployment but have decided to start on the installments since it has taken longer than I expected.
October 3, 2014 seemed like any other day in my life. I got up, got dressed and went to work. I was there early as usual and got right to work on end of the month reports for my boss. I needed to leave early that day for a doctor's appointment and worked through lunch. I had all of the reporting done by noon and took a quick 15 minute break, something I don't normally do, and picked up some soup from a local food truck and went back to my desk. The energy all week had been kind of off in the office. I couldn't put my finger on it, but management seemed stressed and my supervisor seemed to be in some weird distant place every time I tried to talk to him about anything. I recall making a comment to a co-worker that "something was brewing" and my gut didn't like the feeling. I'm particularly susceptible to people's energy and things were tense and just.. weird.. for lack of a better word. Little did I know how right I was.
Around 2:15, I got an IM from my boss's boss's boss asking me to meet him in HR. It's never good when you are asked to meet someone in HR near the end of the day on a Friday. I took my purse because I was supposed to be leaving at 2:30 for my doctor's appointment and figured I'd leave from there. I didn't realize walking into that room that I'd be leaving and not returning.
Reduction in Force. I get to go down in history as one of the few people my company has ever laid off. In the nearly 7 years that I was there, I couldn't really think of anyone who had been laid off. They always found another job for anyone whose position was being eliminated. At first, being me, I didn't accept it. I literally said, "This is a joke, right?" and looked from the HR manager to my boss's boss. No sympathy in those eyes. No acknowledgment of what they were doing. Just... "It's not you. It's me. Please leave."
They took my badge and keys and walked me out like a common criminal. I asked if I could say good bye. I was told no. I was so embarrassed being walked out. I knew that within 15 minutes of my leaving the building, everyone who saw the walk of shame would be gossiping about it. That's how it works there. One of my co-worker is notorious for being one of the first to share gossip so I texted her and told her I had been let go. I wanted to make sure that it was clear I hadn't been fired.
I sat in my car for a few minutes, numb. It felt like I'd been fired. It didn't feel like a valid exit. All of the things went through my head that goes through anyone's head during a time like this. I'm a good worker. I don't abuse the system. Why am I being let go but my co-workers who creep in late, leave early and take numerous "breaks" all day long get to keep their jobs? Then, I called my doctor and broke my appointment because it was for FMLA paperwork that I wouldn't be needing anymore. Then, I texted someone I thought would understand, someone who would be rightly outraged on my behalf, someone who had an opportunity to be a really good friend, someone who, sadly, chose to hijack my moment of sharing and respond that they hated their job and wished they could be fired. Then... I cried.
I cried all the drive home. I don't even remember the drive. I was on auto-pilot. I came home, sat in a chair in my living room and just cried. A teammate sent me a text telling me he'd be there for me if I wanted to talk but I was afraid it was a trick - that someone wanted him to text me to get the scoop and HR was very very clear that I was not to discuss the details of what happened with anyone from work, on that day and for several weeks afterward. I'm not entirely sure what the repercussions were but I couldn't risk any more negative action from them.
Within an hour of being laid off, I was in action mode. That's how I am. I allow myself some self-pity time but then I have to do something. I was online researching unemployment, food stamps, medicare/medicaid, low-income housing, etc. I was checking my bank balance and mentally calculating if I had enough money to cover October's bills. I was emailing people whom had talked to me about jobs in the past. I was reaching out to former co-workers asking if they knew of any jobs. Before the weekend was over, I had already applied for 7 jobs and started my unemployment process. In my mind, this was going to be a quick process and my company had done me a favor. I was just too chicken to look outside the company for something new - the devil you know versus the devil you don't and all of that. Plus, I kept hoping karma would catch up with everyone else and if I just kept my mouth shut, did my job and kept my nose clean, I'd be the one coming out on top. If I had known what was going to happen to me, I think I probably would have taken more breaks and my full lunch more often.
In my mind, I had this great fantasy that I was going to just get a new job right away and then post it on LinkedIn and everyone who could see my profile would be envious that I had gotten out. Like a prisoner who is still stuck on the inside watching a former prisoner get paroled.
A friend helped me secure a freelance part-time writing gig about a week after I lost my job and I saw this as a sign that things would be okay. I'd earn some money and experience writing and then be able to keep that as a side source of income once I got a full time job. It wasn't going to be much work and sporadic at best, but it was going to be something.
I tried to keep my routine as normal as possible. I didn't get up at 6:30 a.m. like I used to, but I was still getting up before 8:00 a.m. and I would hop on the computer and spend my day looking for work. This was my new job. I registered with every temp agency I could find. I updated my resume on all of the major job boards. I updated my profile on LinkedIn. I checked craigslist. I signed up for talent networks at major corporations. I googled and searched, searched and applied. I tweaked my resume about a dozen times, trying to make it stand out. Every job application had its own resume and cover letter. I applied for food stamps and medical assistance and got turned down. I was accepted for unemployment but it would take a few weeks to kick in. I cashed out my 401k, a life insurance policy and waited patiently for my final check from my job. I figured that I would be "fine" until the end of November if all the money could make it to me by the end of October. It was hairy. I was pretty panicked. A few friends sent me some cash to help with groceries and day-to-day expenses. A few others sent me a few gift cards. Early birthday gifts. I knew I had no safety net and I kept trying to explain to people what that feels like, but it's hard to explain something they don't understand. Everyone has someone it seems. I don't. Not really. I've always been a bit of a loner and my family has not really been that supportive of me. I got a lot of "I'm thinking of you", "I'm praying for you" and "Hang In There" comments. It was frustrating. When you are lying in bed, trying to not think of the "worst case" scenario, the prayers and well wishes seem hollow. I can't go to my landlord and say, "Hey, I can't make rent this month but three of my friends prayed for me last night so it's going to be okay."
I wrote to my landlord and car finance company asking for some sort of assistance. I proposed to my landlord that since they had an opening for a leasing agent, they could hire me and/or reduce my rent and help me avoid possible eviction. That didn't happen. They were not sympathetic at all and reiterated the late fee and eviction policy. I didn't understand it. If you have someone who has lived in your complex for over 6 years and has never been late and is a good renter, why can't you work with them? Especially when you have open position within your company and you could be the hero to help someone out? They had the opportunity to have a renter for life. Now, I can't wait until I can find a different place and leave this place. My car finance company gave me a two month deferral of payments for October and November, resuming in December.
I decided to spend some time on self maintenance while I still had insurance. I got my teeth cleaned. Twice. I got new glasses. Bifocals. Then, I started to have serious stomach issues and had to also add a series of X-rays and an emergency room visit to my month. I have to tell you - I can definitely see why people manufacture illnesses to go to the hospital. I felt so safe and tended to in the hospital. I had the most kind male nurse ever who brought me blankets and water and a remote control for the television and checked on me. They weren't able to find anything wrong with me and said it was most likely stress and sent me home. I got a nice $1500 invoice for my troubles. It's still unpaid.
I also decided to take advantage of the maintenance services of my apartment complex. I requested a clean out and repainting of my utility closet because there was mold growing on the walls from previous water leaks and the apartment reeked of mildew. Then, when that didn't get rid of the smell, I wrangled a free carpet cleaning out of them. That still didn't get rid of the smell and the carpet returned to its dingy self once the carpets dried. You get what you pay for.
I learned to love ramen noodles and eating what I already have on hand instead of running to the grocery store for deli foods and prepared foods. I allowed myself $20 a week for groceries - to get staples like milk, eggs, fresh fruit. I learned to maximize that money by looking for double coupon days and bogo deals. I explored Dollar Tree's frozen foods and canned goods.
I started to sleep a little later on Mondays and enjoy late night television. Weekends meant nothing. Every day was the same. The only difference with Saturday and Sunday was that no one would be calling for interviews.
However, as the third week of October rolled around and the only interviews I could get were with insurance companies looking for motivated, self starters to work strictly on commission from home, without benefits, selling insurance products, I started to get a little worried. Luckily, I had gotten all of the funds I was waiting on and told myself I had bought myself another month. Now, I needed to find something by the end of November. I told myself to just sit back and take a breath and let things happen. I kept applying. Kept networking. Every day, get up, do it all over again. Lather, rinse, repeat. Persistence pays off. My mood was still mostly positive. More good than bad. More up than down. "This is going to be a great story some day," I said. I was (and still am) keeping a journal of everything I did each day from how many jobs I applied for, what companies, where I went, what I did, what I ate, anything special about that day, my mood, my health, etc.
In the meantime, I dealt with several messages from former colleagues doing some curiosity seeking and trying to get me to tell them what had happened. I refrained from saying too much.
Then, the week of my birthday, I got a call for an interview for an administrative job that was right up my alley. The company seemed solid. The pay was good. THEY found me online and reached out to me, asking me to apply for the position.
The interview went well. They told me all about the company and even sent me to speak with someone about benefits who spent 10 minutes going over all of the benefits options, vacation, holidays, etc. They gave me a glossy folder with information inside about the company's policies. Why give that to someone if you weren't interested. I thought for sure that this was the break. The one. They told me I'd hear from them within a week.
Was it too good to be true?
To be continued....
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
Holding Back the Years
Holding back the years
Chance for me to escape from all I've known
Holding back the tears
Cause nothing here has grown
I've wasted all my tears
Wasted all those years
And nothing had the chance to be good
Nothing ever could yeah
I was originally going to call this the "If I could turn back time" post, but I did not want to have Cher running through my head for the rest of the day.
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about the past and asking myself a lot of "how did I end up like this?" type questions. I look around me and I have stuff - most of it sentimental in value, but worthless otherwise - and soon, I'm going to have to come up with a plan for this stuff because unless I get a job soon, homeless is a very real possibility. The fear of this keeps me awake at night. What is so important to me to take with me? What can I leave behind? What do I do with the rest? Is there anything worth selling? Do I just put it all in storage? How will I feel when I see it out on the curb after eviction?
As these questions swirl through my head, I think back to a time when things were much simpler and I didn't even realize it. I find myself wishing I could find something "like that" now.
Twenty years ago, I was working a full-time job as a child care consultant making a little more than minimum wage (which I think was $4.35 or something like that) and working part-time as an evening office manager for a community center/boarding house place. I lived in a furnished room in the boarding house upstairs. Everything I owned was in one room. When I went to bed at night, I could see all of my worldly possessions. I didn't really "want" for more. If I didn't have the room for it or the money for it, I didn't buy it. If I bought something new, I tossed out something old to make room for the new thing. My wardrobe was modest. I drove a Ford Escort. I didn't have a cell phone or a pager. I used calling cards for long-distance calling from a payphone in the living room of the boarding house. I shared a bathroom and kitchen with 14 other women. My biggest and most expensive possession was a brand new Packard Bell computer system complete with a dial up modem and dot matrix printer that I was financing through Sun TV (which later became HH Gregg.) I paid $30 a week for rent. There was a dining room in the boarding house that was open to the public and because I worked and lived there, I got a discount so my dinners were usually made and eaten there. I walked to a lot of the places I went, eventhough I had a car. Parking was a premium and once you found a good parking spot near the center, you didn't want to lose it. I was a bit healthier. I had friends. I even had a love life. I traveled. My luxury was books. I loved books. When I moved out, 75% of my wordly possessions were either books or clothing.
All my life, I didn't have "much". I grew up poor, lived in a mobile home until I left for college. Then, a dorm room doesn't give you much space to expand either. I spent the first 28 years of my life living in spaces that forced me to economize and prioritize. As long as I was happy, that's all that mattered.
Then, in 1996, I got an itching to live in the "big city" and in an apartment. More space meant the need for more things. More things meant more debt. More debt meant more work. More work meant more stress. Once you started, you couldn't stop. At least, I couldn't. I gained weight. I made bad choices. I had to keep going and going and going. I attached feelings to my things. Seeing my things made me feel good. Being able to buy things made me feel good. I would try to buy friendships. I would try to buy affection.
Now, I want to go back. I want to have that peaceful non-materialistic life I had before. I wish I could find a nice quaint boarding house set up like I had 20 years ago (and trust me, I've been looking) where Abby and I can sort of reboot and start over. I've looked for "rooms for rent" type ads, but the offerings here sound scary or they won't allow pets. I'm not looking for a "roommate" situation because I don't want to compete with another person for use of an apartment and try to build some sort of rapport and pray that the person doesn't rape me, kill me, or steal from me. I want my own room in a monitored space with other people coming and going from their own rooms in this monitored space. I don't want to live in some stranger's basement or garage and worry about them not paying their mortgage and being evicted. I watch enough Judge Judy to see the horror stories about people who came home to find their stuff ransacked, stolen, or tossed out because some landlord got into a snit. I've been looking for studio apartments outside of this area, but I need a job to get an apartment.
Last night, I couldn't sleep for a variety of reasons, and as I lay in bed, I was mentally cataloging the things in each room of my apartment as "keep, sell, donate or toss" items. It forced me to realize the things that are important to me.
When I really look around at my stuff, I want to keep it all, but I realize that it doesn't make me happy.
One huge thing I've realized is that if I could turn back time and have a do-over, knowing what I know, I would have tried to do more with less, like I was doing 20 years ago.
People keep asking me why I can't just go out and get a part time or minimum wage job and I wish I could. There was a time when I could. Health reasons that prevent me from doing some of those jobs aside, I can't get off of this money-eating machine. I want to. But, right now, I can't.
I have a lease that isn't up until May. My landlord will not work with me to reduce my rent. I've asked. I can't get a cheaper apartment without a job and fairly decent credit score. If I take a place that doesn't check credit or require a job like a motel or shady craigslist ad, then I risk being sued for breaking my lease. I lose my deposit, too. A lot of places require at least six months of work history for an apartment.
So, I feel stuck. I know I need to downsize my life and go back to a simpler less expensive lifestyle.
I need a job. I can't get a job. I'm trying. Every day and every way. I'm trying. My ego and esteem have taken quite the beating because I arrogantly thought I'd have something within a few weeks. I've applied for the part time jobs and the minimum wage jobs. I've networked. I've signed on with temp agencies.
As for expenses, I'm doing everything I can to keep those as low as I can, too. I'm not eligible to refinance my car. Bad credit score from mistakes I made two years ago. Then, when I got the newer car two years ago, I had to roll over a loan balance which made my payments higher. I have the lowest legal coverages for insurance. I have a pay as you go cell phone. I don't take my prescription medications as often as I should so that I can make them last longer. I've applied for food stamps and assistance and got rejected. I cashed out my 401k and a life insurance policy. I can't get credit cards. I don't have rich friends or family members.
I made a promise to the Powers That Be last night that if I can please please please get a job that falls some place within a certain salary range by the end of the month, then I promise I will streamline and prioritize and get back to the way of life that is meaningful so that if this happens again, I won't be blind sided. I will find a smaller and less expensive place to live, even if I have to buy a gun to live there. I will cancel cable as soon as my contract is up (I tried to cancel it, but the early termination fee made it cheaper to just keep it for right now) and watch all of my television online, if I need to watch it at all. I will see if I can find a beater car and then surrender my shiny newish car back to the finance company.
I just need a chance. I get it. I lost control. It's my fault.
Now I need a miracle to change it.
And people to help me pack up the stuff, sell the stuff, move the stuff...
I've wasted all my tears
Wasted all those years
And nothing had the chance to be good
Nothing ever could yeah
Chance for me to escape from all I've known
Holding back the tears
Cause nothing here has grown
I've wasted all my tears
Wasted all those years
And nothing had the chance to be good
Nothing ever could yeah
I was originally going to call this the "If I could turn back time" post, but I did not want to have Cher running through my head for the rest of the day.
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about the past and asking myself a lot of "how did I end up like this?" type questions. I look around me and I have stuff - most of it sentimental in value, but worthless otherwise - and soon, I'm going to have to come up with a plan for this stuff because unless I get a job soon, homeless is a very real possibility. The fear of this keeps me awake at night. What is so important to me to take with me? What can I leave behind? What do I do with the rest? Is there anything worth selling? Do I just put it all in storage? How will I feel when I see it out on the curb after eviction?
As these questions swirl through my head, I think back to a time when things were much simpler and I didn't even realize it. I find myself wishing I could find something "like that" now.
Twenty years ago, I was working a full-time job as a child care consultant making a little more than minimum wage (which I think was $4.35 or something like that) and working part-time as an evening office manager for a community center/boarding house place. I lived in a furnished room in the boarding house upstairs. Everything I owned was in one room. When I went to bed at night, I could see all of my worldly possessions. I didn't really "want" for more. If I didn't have the room for it or the money for it, I didn't buy it. If I bought something new, I tossed out something old to make room for the new thing. My wardrobe was modest. I drove a Ford Escort. I didn't have a cell phone or a pager. I used calling cards for long-distance calling from a payphone in the living room of the boarding house. I shared a bathroom and kitchen with 14 other women. My biggest and most expensive possession was a brand new Packard Bell computer system complete with a dial up modem and dot matrix printer that I was financing through Sun TV (which later became HH Gregg.) I paid $30 a week for rent. There was a dining room in the boarding house that was open to the public and because I worked and lived there, I got a discount so my dinners were usually made and eaten there. I walked to a lot of the places I went, eventhough I had a car. Parking was a premium and once you found a good parking spot near the center, you didn't want to lose it. I was a bit healthier. I had friends. I even had a love life. I traveled. My luxury was books. I loved books. When I moved out, 75% of my wordly possessions were either books or clothing.
All my life, I didn't have "much". I grew up poor, lived in a mobile home until I left for college. Then, a dorm room doesn't give you much space to expand either. I spent the first 28 years of my life living in spaces that forced me to economize and prioritize. As long as I was happy, that's all that mattered.
Then, in 1996, I got an itching to live in the "big city" and in an apartment. More space meant the need for more things. More things meant more debt. More debt meant more work. More work meant more stress. Once you started, you couldn't stop. At least, I couldn't. I gained weight. I made bad choices. I had to keep going and going and going. I attached feelings to my things. Seeing my things made me feel good. Being able to buy things made me feel good. I would try to buy friendships. I would try to buy affection.
Now, I want to go back. I want to have that peaceful non-materialistic life I had before. I wish I could find a nice quaint boarding house set up like I had 20 years ago (and trust me, I've been looking) where Abby and I can sort of reboot and start over. I've looked for "rooms for rent" type ads, but the offerings here sound scary or they won't allow pets. I'm not looking for a "roommate" situation because I don't want to compete with another person for use of an apartment and try to build some sort of rapport and pray that the person doesn't rape me, kill me, or steal from me. I want my own room in a monitored space with other people coming and going from their own rooms in this monitored space. I don't want to live in some stranger's basement or garage and worry about them not paying their mortgage and being evicted. I watch enough Judge Judy to see the horror stories about people who came home to find their stuff ransacked, stolen, or tossed out because some landlord got into a snit. I've been looking for studio apartments outside of this area, but I need a job to get an apartment.
Last night, I couldn't sleep for a variety of reasons, and as I lay in bed, I was mentally cataloging the things in each room of my apartment as "keep, sell, donate or toss" items. It forced me to realize the things that are important to me.
- Abby
- My photo albums
- An old family bible that is 46 years old
- My laptop and printer
- Some of my older books
- A couple pieces of jewelry
- 5-6 outfits
- 2-3 pairs of shoes
- Legal documents and tax documents
- Medical records for me and Abby
- A portable generator for jumping my car
- My Kindle
- A television
- A tiny combination bank I've had since I was a kid
- Some diaries from when I was in junior high
- A few good pens
- A few good notebooks
When I really look around at my stuff, I want to keep it all, but I realize that it doesn't make me happy.
One huge thing I've realized is that if I could turn back time and have a do-over, knowing what I know, I would have tried to do more with less, like I was doing 20 years ago.
People keep asking me why I can't just go out and get a part time or minimum wage job and I wish I could. There was a time when I could. Health reasons that prevent me from doing some of those jobs aside, I can't get off of this money-eating machine. I want to. But, right now, I can't.
I have a lease that isn't up until May. My landlord will not work with me to reduce my rent. I've asked. I can't get a cheaper apartment without a job and fairly decent credit score. If I take a place that doesn't check credit or require a job like a motel or shady craigslist ad, then I risk being sued for breaking my lease. I lose my deposit, too. A lot of places require at least six months of work history for an apartment.
So, I feel stuck. I know I need to downsize my life and go back to a simpler less expensive lifestyle.
I need a job. I can't get a job. I'm trying. Every day and every way. I'm trying. My ego and esteem have taken quite the beating because I arrogantly thought I'd have something within a few weeks. I've applied for the part time jobs and the minimum wage jobs. I've networked. I've signed on with temp agencies.
As for expenses, I'm doing everything I can to keep those as low as I can, too. I'm not eligible to refinance my car. Bad credit score from mistakes I made two years ago. Then, when I got the newer car two years ago, I had to roll over a loan balance which made my payments higher. I have the lowest legal coverages for insurance. I have a pay as you go cell phone. I don't take my prescription medications as often as I should so that I can make them last longer. I've applied for food stamps and assistance and got rejected. I cashed out my 401k and a life insurance policy. I can't get credit cards. I don't have rich friends or family members.
I made a promise to the Powers That Be last night that if I can please please please get a job that falls some place within a certain salary range by the end of the month, then I promise I will streamline and prioritize and get back to the way of life that is meaningful so that if this happens again, I won't be blind sided. I will find a smaller and less expensive place to live, even if I have to buy a gun to live there. I will cancel cable as soon as my contract is up (I tried to cancel it, but the early termination fee made it cheaper to just keep it for right now) and watch all of my television online, if I need to watch it at all. I will see if I can find a beater car and then surrender my shiny newish car back to the finance company.
I just need a chance. I get it. I lost control. It's my fault.
Now I need a miracle to change it.
And people to help me pack up the stuff, sell the stuff, move the stuff...
I've wasted all my tears
Wasted all those years
And nothing had the chance to be good
Nothing ever could yeah
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