Just when I thought things had gotten as bad as they could, for this week, at least. Last night I found out that the collection agencies have started to call Chris’ parents looking for us. Uncomfortable and unpleasant. I wish I could fix that. My mother-in-law has been ill, and they have more than enough on their plate without adding another aspect of our issues to it. Then today I learned they’ve started calling my brother-in-law as well. There are no words for how uncomfortable this makes me. Forget crawling under a rock, I would like to crawl inside of a rock. Never coming out is actually sounding like an excellent plan.
I can’t stand this. I really can’t. I’m shaking with embarrassment and impotent rage. Emphasis on the impotent. I have never felt so powerless in my life. What kind of person am I, that I can’t figure out how to fix this? What kind of of parent? What do my kids have to look forward to, with parents who can’t seem to pick up the pieces? It seems so ridiculous. Normal is all I want, and it’s beyond my grasp. A job and enough money to pay our bills… why is it that things so basic can seem so elusive? I am drowning in shame. I can’t tell you what I did wrong, but there must have been something. I feel like I can’t breathe.
Why do the collection agencies believe the answer would change if they called others instead of us? Do they think we are secretly sitting on piles of money and just don’t feel like offering them any? Are you kidding me? I got a call on my cell phone at 6 AM, which I think is illegal, but who would I complain to? How did they even find my in-laws’ numbers? Did they call everyone with our last name in fhe greater Los Angeles area?
I am sorry I don’t have the money to pay my bills, and sorrier still that neither of us has been able to find a job and fix things. We thought Chris had, but once again the joke was on us. Things never seem to get better, no matter how hard we try. I’m so tired of feeling like I’ve failed everyone around me. So fucking tired.
This weekend we are supposed to go to my brother-in-law’s place for Father’s Day. I really don’t want to go. I don’t want to go stand around the normal people, the ones with jobs and lives and decent credit, the ones who can sleep at night and get up in the morning and not want to throw up. It’s just too hard for me. Chris can compartmentalize it, but I can’t. The juxtaposition of our failing lives next to theirs is just too much. I know it sounds unreasonable, and it’s not like I blame them for being successful. But it’s still too much. The last time we were there was right after Chris got the new job, the one that was supposed to have put us on the road to recovery. It was so nice to hear the congratulatory remarks and feel relaxed and happy instead of suffering through the normal feelings of awkwardness and shame. So nice, and so short-lived. I don’t want to go back there. But it’s Father’s Day, and it’s not about me, it’s about Chris. So I have little choice but to go and try not to think and feel the way I always think and feel, especially there.
I still want to crawl inside of a rock.