I realized today I completely suck at nodeshell rescues; I suspect the impending message from Klaproth will
remind me never to try that again.
So I'm moving again, this time back to Colorado. Erica
actually did send me a check ... but unfortunately not for anywhere near the
amount she actually owed me. Supposedly, it was a carefully measured amount,
just enough to buy an airline ticket to get there. The claim was had she sent
me the whole amount, my ex-wife would have found a way to steal it. As much as
it angers me, she's probably right.
Unfortunately, it wasn't actually enough for an airline
ticket. So I'm taking a damned bus.
When I called her to ask for the rest of the money, she
adopted an unfortunate attitude -- "you never signed a contract with me, you
can't prove I owe you the money, etc." She seems not to be the person I once
thought she was.
Of course, neither is my ex-wife, whose highly
intelligent response to my depressed reaction to Erica's musings today was to
scold and yell at me. The funniest part is how she still wonders why I'm
This time, though, I'm not leaving in control of anything.
Not much money. No car. Completely dependent on friends who I suspect never
liked me in the first place to take care of me. I have nothing but Erica's
word that once I arrive in Colorado she'll talk to me again and/or send me the
rest of the money she owes me.
I spent nearly half an hour of my day today in a
catatonic state; after my phone call ended with Erica, I could apparently no
longer cope with reality and just turned off for awhile. My ex-wife spent half
an hour unsuccessfully trying to awaken me from the unnatural slumber. I lose
more and more time this way now; though I normally don't fall asleep when it
happens I do behave very differently and forget about everything that happened
-- almost like a blackout. I see things moving in darkness that aren't there,
thunderstorms scare me again like they did when I was a child, and my sanity
is slipping away. The term "schizophrenia" keeps cropping up in my mind and
I'm beginning to worry that more than just the term is applicable to what's
happening to me upstairs.
What are you supposed to do when you can literally see
yourself slipping away on the inside? What kind of life preserver am I
supposed to throw out for myself to stop it from getting worse? Should I just
keep shuffling around until I find a place to live that will tolerate me and
make me comfortable? Will peace and comfort alone be enough to finally get
well-needed rest? What is real rest like? I've come to realize I've probably
only spent a few nights in my entire lifetime in contented, peaceful
sleep. All of them involved being in Erica's arms. Of course she's gone now,
five hundred miles away, and I'm moving another 900 miles further away. And
she's replaced me with her ex-boyfriend anyway. I'll have to settle for not
being scared to death that my ex-wife will try to hurt or kill me in my sleep
now. Of course, it'll be replaced by the worry that my new landlords will just
decide to throw me out on my ears. Then I'll be screwed (again).