If my life were a magazine, I'd have enough issues to crush a schoolbus full of children.
With that colourful visual out of the way (and by colourful, I mean sort of yellow and bloody); a short rant follows.
[BALEETED]
Argh. the tl;dr of a MULTI-PAGE rant, is pretty much that the LAST THING I needed to add to a fscking laundry list of problems is THIS. GID. Honestly, I live with nearly crippling anxiety that I can't -do- anything about because 1. it's anxiety, I'm usually too much of a mess even thinking about it to be able to help myself 2. I'm MOVING so on top of the anxiety from that, there's the fact that I can't even consider finding a therapist until after I'm where I'm getting to, which isn't until the middle of november; and the odds of me having even enough money to feed myself are so low it's currently a negligible chance.
I know this will work out, somehow; but that doesn't do much but give me hope. Hope is a tiny, fragile thing when you try and balance the crushing weight of reality against it. I can't really say my 'hope' has much on someone like, say, Atlas. Can't fill your stomach with hope, or feed your cats, or keep your chickens safe from raccoons with hope. Can't keep your electricity on with hope; can't heat your compost with it, can't use it to water your tomatoes if it stops raining. Can't use it to move your (mostly worthless) worldly ->-bleeped-<- across several states. Can't keep yourself (literally) warm with it.
Argh.
