As if I couldn't feel any worse. I left my half-million dollar townhouse after removing my $25,000 wedding ring and drove my late model Mercedes down to the DC Department of Health to apply for medicaid, food stamps, and whatever else they might have that could help me. All around me were people with real problems, and I felt like dirt.
My therapist says not think that way, that my problems are just as real as anyone else's, but she's wrong. My own actions and choices brought me to here, to my knees. I'm facing the career-crippling embarrassment of having my phone cut off (or the lights), possible eviction, even starvation. I have less than a thousand dollars in my checking account and I haven't paid the mortgage in two months.
I'm different from the others, and they can tell by my self-manicured nails and designer bag. I'm different, because I truly believe, that my family will help me.
And that makes me feel even worse.
I don't want to be that girl, the spoiled brat whose family always bails her out. I never have been, and I don't want to be.
I'm pretty much cut off from my family. The don't believe I'm sick, or don't think it matters. I don't think they care, really, they are just tired of dealing with my problems. I am all alone.
Except this time, I really, really need to be bailed out. They have to, right?
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1 comment:
damn...sugar..that sucks..
i hope it will all work out for you..
it sounds to me like you have REAL problems... and they need to be addressed.. sounds like your doing that too..so good for you...
that said..
dont worry ..everyone there just assumed your handbag was a fake!!..
best of luck
xoxo
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