bliss-sad's Diaryland Diary



I called my student-loan servicer and got a stay-of-execution on payments until March 18th. My hope is to get some sort of deferment so that I can save the money that I would've spent on past attempts at college and put them toward future attempts. As it stands right now, I am eligible to get an under-employment deferment because of the amount of hours that I work per week. If I pick up a second job, I will lose that option entirely.

However, if I do pick up a second job, chances are that I will not have to take out a loan to pay for my final semesters.

I won't be sure about financial aide available to me until after tax time, when I'm able to apply, but I'm not setting my hopes too high when it comes to award letters. If I enroll as a full time college student, the financial aide package I receive will probably pay for the entirety of my schooling. It sounds like a fantastic idea, until I started thinking about the realities of balancing a full-time college schedule with my 30 hour a week job. We're not in a comfortable enough place with finances for me to quit my job (or even cut my hours), and I'm too serious about this round to take a chance at fucking it all up because I'm overwhelmed. Also, I've taken all of the fun classes, and now I'm down to core requirements. All the classes left are for maths, science, accounting skills and business. Basically all the things that I will need to be 100% present and accountable for.

If I enroll part time, I feel confident in my ability to finish and succeed. Though I will add another 6 months to a year onto the whole process.... And I will most likely be left scrambling for money since part-time students don't tend to receive too much in the way of FAFSA.

It's a difficult decision, but I already know that part-time is best for me. It's a smaller burden financially, and if I'm able to enroll soon enough then I will be able to qualify for a "back to school" deferment. Although I wouldn't receive as much financial aide, I would be able to sign up for a payment play with the school that allowed me to make monthly installments toward the balance of my tuition. If that were to happen, then I wouldn't need to worry about the number of hours I work each week and, if the opportunity is there, I might be able to sign up for some sort of work-study to bring in extra money.

I tried to speak with Devon about this, but it was no different than speaking to a brick wall. The ebb and flow of our relationship has changed quite a bit in the aftermath of life imploding on us. He doesn't have much to say these days. He's always locked inside his brain.

I feel like he's not as invested in our relationship or the realities of life as I am, and he complains that I'm too "sharp".

This morning we had a bit of a tiff over it, and I just stopped speaking to him. While I do see his point, I'm not exactly sure what to do about it. The behaviors and communications he points out as "sharp" don't strike me as anything out of the ordinary. And I guess part of me thinks, "Haven't I been this way all along? Why is it only now that you're complaining about it?"

I'm also a bit sensitive, because I feel like "sharp" is a politically correct way to say that I'm being a bitch.

Which, realistically, shouldn't be an insult because somebody has to deal with life. Someone has to make sure that bills get paid, irregularities in billing get investigated. Someone has to make sure that life keeps spinning.

Today, as stupid as it was, it all started over a laundry basket. (And yes, before you begin to wonder, I do realize how completely petty it is.)

A bit of back story: our laundry system is fucking chaos. While we are able to clean and dry our clothes, that's usually as far as it gets. Once it's dry, it gets piled onto a table in the laundry room where it stays until it is dirtied and entered back into the cycle. I'm not exaggerating in the slightest when I tell you that I am enraged by this EVERY. MORNING. Devon is in charge of the laundry, as I tend to most of housework (I've literally never seen him finish a sink full of dishes. He begins, gets halfway done, and then walks away--leaving the dishes to stew in a tepid bath of their own filth), so he always takes my annoyance personally.

Since it makes me so angry, whenever I have a full day of alone time, I drag all of it out the living room, fold everything and put it away. Then I rescue the laundry baskets from the hell-room and put them back in the bedroom and bathroom (where we've agreed they should live). Yesterday, I got off work early and decided to tackle the room. 4 solid hours of folding later, I finished the job.

So today, while getting ready for work, I was in my bedroom about to change out of pajamas and into work clothes and I see that the laundry basket has already disappeared from the bedroom. Like, not even twelve hours after putting it where it belongs, it's already fucking gone.

So, I rescued it from the laundry room and told Devon to please leave it in the bedroom until it was a full load. I feel like I did it in a way that was calm and respectful. I even made sure to tell him that I appreciated the fact that he did the laundry and that I was trying to put a system in place so that we weren't constantly looking for articles of clothing. I explained that if laundry is only ever in the drawers, the washer/dryer or the basket, then it shouldn't ever be missing....that if we could keep this system in place, it would probably lead to less fighting.

So then he just clams up.

After some time passes, I mention that I feel like the morning got off track and that things are now weird between us and he tells me that I've just been "sharp" all morning. He brought up the laundry issue and, admittedly, I got defensive.

It's just that, I'm constantly taking on these huge projects and trying to get our house in order (because it makes me feel like my life is in order), and every time I see them fall apart HOURS after finishing, I just feel disrespected.

I feel disrespected when he can't rinse his fucking bowls out or wipe the spilled milk off the counter after I spent an hour cleaning the kitchen. I feel disrespected when I spend half a day folding laundry and putting it away, only to see the laundry baskets dragged out of our bedroom while his pajamas sit on the floor. It's stupid, but it just makes me want to cry.

I feel like I try so hard to make us functioning adults, only to be met with disrespect and lack of appreciation. So when he tells me that I'm being "sharp" or being a "bitch", I get so frustrated because in my eyes, I'm just trying to be a fucking grown up. I'm just trying to take responsibility for us and our messes and our life.

I know that a lot of it is ego, and that marriage means putting the ego aside....but FUCK.

I miss feeling like we were partners. I miss the man who used to write me poetry. I miss when he used to hold my hand, and cuddle next to me on the couch. I miss feeling beautiful and wanted and desired and cherished.

I miss feeling like he was putting effort into us.

And, yet, I know that so much of this isn't so much a byproduct of our 6 years together as it is grief. I want to be sensitive to what he's going through and the process of acceptance, but he's not talking to me. He's not sharing what he's going through, so I'm just kind of left to fumble around in the dark. I know that this is a rough patch--that all marriages have them, and that I must deal with the rise and fall of the tides... I just feel so fucking miserable all the time.

I am desperate to get my professional life together and to get back into school and I'm trying so hard to keep things going in my personal life. I'm trying so hard to deal with this dysfunctional, alcoholic family I'm a part of and the slowly subsiding turmoil of the past few months and the grief and the depression and the stupid shit that it's kicked all over my relationship and my mental health, but I feel like I'm starting to crack.

I feel like the drama of keeping the family together has landed on my shoulders, in addition to Devon's grief, on top of my stresses and recovery process... Then throw in trying to get back to school and work and all those stupid little things it takes to be a person.... It's just hard.

So maybe I am being a bitch. But maybe I'm being a bitch because what was supposed to be a tag-team match against life has turned into me, swinging blind and exhausted against an undefeatable opponent: Reality. I feel resentful. I don't feel connected, and as a result, I don't want to be intimate.... Then I get emotional for missing the intimacy, but lately it only leaves me feeling disappointed and used. It's a stupid fucking cycle.

I know what I need to do. I know that I need to talk to him, share with him, let him in... It's just that sometimes I want to cross my arms and treat him the way I feel like I'm being treated.

And I'm sick of being called a bitch. I'm sick of playing the fucking villain. I'm sick of always being the miserable fucking buzzkill. I'm sick of being in charge.

I'm sick of being a human.

8:32 a.m. - 01.08.15


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