I've always had a love/hate feeling towards her. But now that Suze Orman has officially come out as a card carrying lezbeen, I guess I'll have to stop the hate. It was never really hate anyway, more like fear. What with those unnaturally white and curiously razor sharp looking teeth as well as the oddly orange and leathery looking skin tone, I was always afraid that a bad financial decision would cause her to leap from the TV screen and rend me limb from limb.
Speaking of finance, I had to apply for food stamps yesterday afternoon. I thought I might be eligible, and it seemed silly to pass up some free groceries. It was a tad humiliating nonetheless. The last time I applied for assistance I was a 22 year old struggling performer that was estranged from my family. As I said in a meeting yesterday, I felt kind of like I was starting over. Until I realised that's exactly what's happening. I'm starting over. It's almost like the last 30 years belonged to someone else. At any rate, I qualified for emergency assistance, which means I'll be getting an unknown amount of grocery money sometime in the next few days. I have to go back with more financial information by next week in order to qualify for monthly benefits, and they're sending me to another agency to see if there's any housing money I qualify for. At this point, I have no pride left. My main focus is to attend Gay-A meetings every day and get a good support system in place. I'm looking for work, but I'm not going to be stupid and not make sure that I can keep a roof over my head and food on the table until I get something. Splitting the rent with my roommate helps, I only have to scramble for half what I've been paying the last few months.
I had to call in to the office at my last job today. I need some confirmation that I was let go and have no job. They sent me one a day or two after I got myself fired. Typically of me, I tore it up and threw it out along with all my work shirts, building ID and employee manuals. I just wanted to obliterate the memory and move on. I hadn't counted on needing that piece of paper. I spent all day today trying to reach the correct voicemail to leave a message. I absolutely didn't want to talk to a live person. I just couldn't handle the embarrassment. If I can't spare myself, who will? But I was feeling anxious and trapped. So I bought myself a sweatshirt at a 75% discount and a cute red scarf for Jet. And for the record, I'm far from the only alcoholic that has a shopping disorder as well. I finally managed to wait until after I was sure the admin office was closed. Then I called the main number and had them patch me through to voicemail. Mission accomplished. My anxiety instantly dispersed, and I stopped thinking about how a glass of wine would make me feel better.
On a side note, my welfare ID picture looks a hundred times better than my recent NY State ID picture.
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