Sick

I've reached my boiling point. I am officially Sick of It.

I'm sick of having a "special needs child," a "differently abled child," whatever the hell you want to call him, it all amounts to "I have a kid who isn't normal." I'm sick of being told to "hang in there" by people who get to just guess and write notes in their files and write prescriptions and play with dosages and in the end do nothing more than sit back and collect my checks. I'm sick of being given a laundry list of "Shit He Did Today" at the end of every afternoon. I'm sick of spending my summer not having fun with my kids because I have to punish one of them essentially for being who he is because society demands I teach him that who he is is fundamentally wrong. I'm sick of getting my hopes up for nothing. I'm sick of family members and friends who don't fucking get it and never will.

I'm sick of our cash flow being fucked up by our multiple income sources that are unreliable. I'm sick of never knowing in any given month how much money we're going to have, and not knowing how much money we can spend because we don't know what the months to follow have in store. I'm sick of not being able to really budget and plan ahead.

I'm sick of our schedules being all fucked up. I'm sick of having to ship my very-sleepy toddler off to daycare irregularly--he was fine when he was there five consecutive days a week, but this 2 days on, 1 off, 1 on, 3 off bullshit is taking its toll on him. If anything, it's harder than when he was there full time.

I'm sick of working in a building that smells like shit, throws my allergies into overdrive, and is constantly cold.

I'm sick of having an "over-30, former smoker" metabolism that means I can no longer eat whatever I want and still not meet the weight requirement to donate blood.

I'm sick of my ancient car.

I'm sick of not having any friends who actually live within walking (or even driving) distance.

I'm sick of collection agencies. I would really like to (once again) max out our open line of credit to take care of these outstanding medical bills, but the fucking collection agencies all use that automatic call feature, and nothing pisses me off more than answering my phone and hearing a recording advising me to stay on the line, someone really wants to talk to me! Fuck you. If you really want to talk to me, pick up the damn phone and dial it yourself. Better yet, send me a paper bill and I'll send you a check--we can cut the person-to-person bullshit altogether. I don't need your minimum wage-earning flunkie on the line asking me for an explanation as to why I'm a piece of shit who doesn't pay her bills.

I'm sick of myself, just like Matthew Sweet.

I'm sick of the chick who does the voiceovers for Wendy's commercials on the radio.

I'm sick of "Charm School with Ricki Lake."

I think that about covers it.

I can haz vacayshun now?