tsukinofaerii: Fluttershy looking pitiful (MLP: Fluttershy looking pitiful)
[personal profile] tsukinofaerii
I... just... IDK. I hate my life and it hates me?

These last two weeks have been hell. Just top-down, inside-out hell. So be warned: whining and a pity party below, as well as some possibly triggery stuff by way of pet death.

First off, my immediate supervisor Jacci was out last week, and will also be out all of this week because her mother passed away, so everything that took me away from work left my position entirely uncovered. There's literally no one else to answer the phones.

I spent about two days at the VA Clinic to get Papa set up, and ended up working late to try and make up the hours. They kept demanding his DD form 2-14. We've been hearing that for years. We were told they burned up in a fire, but we needed XYZ to get copies. Every time we asked, XYZ changed. Or needed to be sent somewhere else. Or weren't filed the right way and had to be done again. Once they demanded a copy of his DD form 2-14 to get a copy of his DD form 2-14. But now we have no choice, but they wanted them again. So after having dragged an old man to the doctor's for day-long visits twice in a row, we finally found out that he he doesn't fucking have a form 2-14. They only started giving those out in Vietnam, and he's a WWII vet. In years of asking, no one had told us that. All they needed was his discharge papers, which we had. Fucking bullshit. He's a vet, he's entitled to care, and GDI if I have to assault someone he's going to get it.

So Papa is finally in the system. Now I just need to figure out how to get him to his weekly appointments, since Mary doesn't want to (??? I don't even know), Devon can't, Brittany won't, Melanie can't and I work. I can't afford to miss a day every week. So IDK there.

Speaking of Brittany, she's still not talking to me. I've given up figuring out why, and at this point I don't even care. Trying to be the better person had landed me absolutely nowhere.

We lost not one but two dogs within days of each other, both hit by cars because our fence is designed to keep in horses, not Shih Tzus. In general, everyone agreed that we need to build a fence for the dogs (as I have been saying since the last one died), but (shockingly) no one showed up this weekend to help. And I can't call them, because Brittany's not speaking to me.

Emma showed up over the weekend to reclaim her dogs and grandson (who was due to start school three weeks ago). I think the secret third reason was to sneer at me and blame me for the dogs deaths, because I literally could not touch any dog but my own while she was there. I'd go to cuddle one and someone would call it over. Coincidence the first few times, maybe, but we have enough dogs that being unable to grab even one was just ridiculous. Thank goodness she was here and gone again.

On Monday, my car broke down, causing me to spend yesterday in the repair shop. Between the belt they had to replace and a few other repairs that I knew were coming, it cost me $500 and another day mostly missed from work—ended up working late again. On the plus side, it was Brittany's birthday dinner at home, so I didn't have to put up with being asked to leave my own home for her comfort.

Mary wants a grand to get Richard out of jail, and Devon needs me to co-sign for a loan. My dad is still asking to me to help with his website. My brother's not recovering from his heat stroke they way they'd hoped and as much as I love Papa I don't know how to handle his medical appointments without risking my job.

And finally today, which had not been a terrible one all told, I just noticed that I have a cracked tooth. It's one next to one I had work on as a kid, and I'd complained at the time that the teeth fit too tightly together. So I'm not really shocked that this (relatively) healthy tooth finally gave in under pressure, but did it have to do it now? Really? Have I not put up with enough shit lately?

I should apply for dental insurance, but the co-pays can be ridiculous, and as much heavy work as I need done, I'm afraid I'm going to get in there, hear $17k (the last quote on my mouth, and that was ages ago so I know it's gotten worse) and then break down. It doesn't help that I'm seriously terrified of dentists and even more afraid of needles, to the point of having to be restrained on a bad day. Stupid as it sounds, I want my mom there to sit in the waiting room and pay the bill (even if it's from my account) then to drive me home, even though I'm twenty fucking seven years old and should be able to manage a goddamned dentist appointment on my own.

Most petty of all, I accidentally ran my MP3 player through the wash. A new one is cheap, and I keep backups of all my music, but still.

I'm just... IDK. Tired. Really, really fucking tired. It's not even one thing after another, it's everything all at once. Yeah, I have Wincon coming up, but I'm not really sure I can justify going and spending a whole week enjoying myself when I have so much else that needs the money. Which is stupid and self-destructive because Wincon is the only break I really get, and if I give up that when I've been scrimping all year for it then it's a slippery slope to just folding entirely.

I feel selfish for whining. Relatively, I've got it good. No immediately threatening physical or mental ailments, no one I personally know has died recently, barring the dogs. I have a job with a boss that will let me call out at need (though I do worry how long his good will can last at this rate) even if he can't give me paid leave. High pain tolerance means I at least don't suffer much from the dental issues. There's roof over my head, food in the fridge and an internet connection on the computer. It could be so much worse, and crying about it accomplishes nothing but a headache and a worried doggy.

Even knowing all that, all I really want to do is curl up in a ball for a month and tell the world to go away and leave me alone. And I can't even do that for a weekend because the world just tracks me down and drags me back again.
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