Fat and Not Afraid

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Bottom of the Well

February 27, 2014

Spring is technically right around the corner but we're experiencing (hopefully our last) deep freeze here in Northern Ontario. The wind has been blowing forcefully for days, the temperatures dipping down into -30C or worse at night. I feel like the cold has entered my bones, entered my soul. The passion I felt for things is gone, a faded and fading candle where there was once a bonfire raged. In my inbox I recieve a dozen or more newsletters a day, calls for action from causes I once cared deeply about, but now I usually delete them. I could be applying for a new part time job as the ones I have don't pay enough to get us out of my inlaw's basement, but I spend my time on FB or at a couple of blogs I enjoy, or Pinterest.  not my actual feet

In a couple of months I'll be turning 30 and this is not how I expected it to start. A year ago we were moving from our small apartment in Nanaimo to a smaller apartment in Colwood, outside of Victoria. Ryan was moving up into a management position after 2 years in the same company, clawing his way from a delivery driver and through several stores. It was a calculated risk-I left my job at FedEx and we were pretty sure I'd find a new, well paying one in Victoria because it's the capitol of the province and much bigger than Nanaimo. I did, too, but I didn't get to keep it. That was the month I spent at Alpine, and for most of that month there was light at the end of our tunnel. I didn't fit in there at all, and I know that's partially why I got fired, but gods did I TRY.

The only way things could get worse for us right now is if one of us, or someone near and dear, became horribly ill or injured, or died. I'm homeless with no prospects of that changing unless we suddenly find more money (hence the job searching I should be doing). We *could be* be saving up our money to *maybe* find a house to afford in a couple of months, scrape together a down payment and cross our fingers someone in the family will co-sign, but I don't know to what end. It all just looks so bleak from where I'm sitting here at the rock bottom of my life. Ever since last July when I got fired things have been terrible. And it keeps coming back to 'it's all my fault'. I got fired, and we lost everything.

Two nights ago we had a long, loud conversation with my beloved mom in law about what the heck our plans are. Going over the last two and a half year's history of decisions, tracing the path that led us to this place, only showed me so clearly how far we've fallen in the last six months. It hurt. It still hurts. There's no answer to what our plans are because we don't have any. We're trapped here until we can save the money to move out, but to where we don't know. I'd like to stay in the Sault. Ryan can't wait to get the hell out. We're welcome to stay here as long as we need to, but being here hurts. It's not mine. My daughter sleeps in our room in a playpen instead of a bed. There is nowhere in the world right now to call my own, and it hurts.

I'm feeling broken right now, all rough edges but worn down at the same time. I'm an egg dropped on the floor and still wiping up the mess. Actually, I'm looking at the mess and thinking 'fuck it'.

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