BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,
BTRIPP
btripp

(sigh)

I'm suspecting that it might be the lingering effects of computer chaos, but it might also be Xmas angst, but I've not been in a good place emotionally for the past several weeks. Everything looks "doomy" and I can't get much enthusiasm generated for anything.

I have been "pushing on" despite this (I finally got the new HD but have not had time to "deal with it" yet), but everything feels like I'm using retro thrusters but still spiraling into a black hole. Over there ===> is the most recent post for The Job Stalker ... another dump of links. Always appreciative of the half-cent I get for folks taking a look at it.

Today's been real hard on me. Daughter #2 is wanting to "re-do" part of her room, including getting rid of the "under the windows" cabinets. Now, two things are in play here. #1, those cabinets (and the similar ones in her big sister's room) used to be my record cabinets in my old apartment. I had five of them going across the whole extent of my living room (they were very conveniently exactly the height of the bottom of the window, so almost looked "built in". At one point they were briefly in a similar spot up here, but eventually The Wife exiled my extensive record collection into my office, to fight for space with everything else that used to be in my old 1-bedroom (which is part of the reason that it looks like THIS in here).

Four of the five cabinets were re-purposed for The Girls' rooms, painted white and with white "marble" shelf paper stuck on over the "wood" tops. These have been doing that duty for at least 8 years at this point, and the cabinets have been "part of my home" for nearly 30 years, and I'm not very happy about seeing them scheduled for the big bye-bye.

This brings me to thing #2 that's stressing me. Part of Daughter #2 working on her room is (at the instigation of her Mother), having her get rid of "a lot of stuff". Now, I have deep psychological scars in this area. First of all, my Dad, with whom I understand that I was very close, died when I was 2 years old. I don't think I've ever gotten over that sense of vulnerability of having what you love ripped from you from that experience, and this was only deepened when I was 8 or 9 years old and had pretty much all my most cherished stuffed animals thrown out while we were on vacation (my Mom told our housekeeper to "get rid of those baby games", meaning, I believe, things like CandyLand and Chutes & Ladders, but which got translated to a total purge of surviving items from my "babyhood"). To this day, this is an open wound in my emotional make-up. So, needless to say, having Daughter #2 load what I'm perceiving as her "cherished childhood friends" into a big black garbage bag (destined, fortunately, for the Salvation Army and not the trash shoot like mine had been), it messes me up.

Of course, I have terrors over the concept that these "cherished friends" are not going to end up being loved by other, less fortunate, kids (which is, obviously, the "angle" being played to have them be given up), but are going to be dumped (once out of our hands) onto the "rag trade". I can just not handle the image of some cute fuzzy friend that my daughters delighted in (and who had a name and a whole "backstory") being used as a chamois to wash a truck somewhere. Heck, I'm literally in tears typing this.

Anyway, that's where I'm at ... unemployed, with no prospects, and an emotional wreck. Nothing like "going to Hell in a handbasket", eh? Sucks to be me.


Visit the BTRIPP home page!



Tags: thejobstalker
Subscribe

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 5 comments