My world is crumbling again. It feels kind of like the Old Met production of Samson et Delilah, where parts of the crashing temple are slowly flown into the rafters. It's very familiar. I know this feeling, I've been here before. And God, but I am tired of it. Ever since my rewarding career position as a cashier at a local supermarket cut my hours back last spring, it has been impossible to keep up with my bills. After three and a half years there, I still don't make even $10.00 per hour. My rent has been in arrears since last October. Everything gets paid late. And now my landlord has given me the required 60 days notice that he will not be renewing my lease when it expires at the end of May. I have no money. I have no car. And all too soon, it looks like I shall have no home.
My prescribing therapist asked me an interesting question at my Friday appointment. If I could get another part time job, would I be able to physically and mentally handle it? The fact is that I wouldn't. But then again, it's impossible. I never know my work schedule much in advance. Our hours are supposed to be posted on Thursdays for the week starting Sunday. Sometimes the hours don't get posted until Friday and it is not unknown to have them posted on Saturday. There is no set schedule. This coming week, I will be working two nights until 8:30pm. Last week, my schedule was all daytime shifts - then again, someone different did the schedule that week so I wasn't being punished by the bitch who makes up the schedule. If you ask for a special day off, which is permitted as long as it is two weeks in advance, you get a bad schedule the following week. If they have to do paperwork because you were late getting back from your unpaid lunch break, I'll find myself bagging groceries for an hour or more - even though they know that this will kill my back and I might have to call out the next day. They'd love that - I could then be fired. They claim they don't punish people this way, but everyone knows that they do - but there is nothing that can be done about it. If you complain, it gets worse. I asked my department's manager what would happen if I changed my hours of availability (so I could fit in another part time job). I was told that I would be moved down into a different part time position which would, of course, end my medical benefits. (There are three levels of part time employment - I am part time flex, which means that I can get up to 38.7 hours a week. The next level down would restrict me to 20 hours a week.)
It all gets messier. There are meds that I need that I no longer take because I just can't afford doctor visits and the cost of the meds themselves. This affects my energy, ability to sleep, breather properly, & etc. My skin condition is starting up with the little boils again. I have no real life outside of work - the rest of my day is spent on the computer, watching mind numbing tv shows, being warehoused in my one room apartment that I am about to lose.
I don't know how much more I can take.
I've begun to admire people who find the courage to commit suicide.