A Good Cry

As I sit here with a cup of pomegranate juice that has been laced with cannabis, I want to write. Granted, I've only had a sip, so this writing is not spurred by a high of any sorts, but the frustration of my day.

It started glorious. I woke up feeling great, no fever, no nothing, just feeling good. Did an errand, got a haircut, went to do some envelopes for Mom, all good.

And then it went downhill. In my Mom's place, there is no privacy, so I am essentially forced to overhear my parents battle out the finances, and that's very uncomfortable for me. I have serious anxiety attacks over my family finances, because they're so damn screwed up. And then, my Dad calls. "You're not doing your job" with the stupid car business. And I snap. He says "If you want to not do it, that's fine, but if you're gonna do it, do it".

Right, because the "We need your help or we'll die and you can go live with your mother if you won't help me" lecture I got two months ago never happened. It must be nice to have a completely selective memory.

I get hope and just start yelling and crying, about how stressed I am, and of course my Dad's commentary doesn't help. "Why are you stressed?" Um, I'm 23, I have no life, I'm depressed, I'm trying to figure it out, I'm scared I won't go to grad school, I just had two infections and one fever, and I'm sort of exhausted here? But alas, Dad just can't understand. Oh, I wish he could, but he's literally mentally incapable of such. It's not his fault, but it's still unfair.

Then I went to go food shopping. While I was there, still wiping my tears, I get a call about a job I applied for teaching so-called Hebrew School but from an almost completely secular perspective. It intrigued me as a teacher, as a psychologist, as a Jewish woman. I honestly don't know what I said on the phone, but she said she'll call me back. We spoke for 30 minutes, and I think it would be a great challenge and learning experience for me. We'll see.

Dr. Aboolian acknowledge that he's a "nagging Jewish mother", because he only wants one thing of me - to eat. Yeah, when I get anxious, I sort of lose my appetite that I didn't have in the first place, so um...its 10:30-ish at night, and I'll be up 'til 1 scarfing food down, I'm sure. I think I have 1,300 calories to get in? Whoops. Can I get a B- for effort? Still getting the work done, just not well. To me, a C+ is failure, so I think a B- will do in this case.

I have spanikopita, I think I'll make a 5 minute cake, and that's all for the night.