[brains.stressors]

[wispfox]

This is me letting stuff out. This is _NOT_ fucking aimed at anyone. Anyone who thinks it is aimed at them obviously doesn't know me.


Sometimes Psinging has way too many depressing songs.

Sometimes, it's really, really hard to go home alone. To a home with no other people in it. To a cat who I can't look at without worry creeping in.

Sometimes, it's hard to ignore the fact that I'm very, very tired of working in IT. And I have to finish paying off my loans. And save up for school and moving and wandering the US. Starting to think that the year wandering the US isn't worth the amount of time it'll take me to save up for it. But at the same time, I'll need a break between work and school. And I really _want_ to see lots of snippets of my country. Well, when the amount of time it'll take to get to that point isn't beating me upside the head.

And sometimes I wonder if my cat will be around for me to need to try to figure out how to bring him along with me on my country wanderings. *sigh* I sometimes wonder if I might have been better off waiting until I was actually intending to settle somewhere before I got a cat. But at the same time... I _know_ he's helped me with winters. And I love my kitty. I certainly can't get another cat after him until I settle somewhere, though. If I ever settle somewhere.

Sometimes it's really hard to juggle the fact that I need to no longer be working in IT, but I need to stay another 2-3 years for loans and post-IT reasons. Completely ignoring the fact that being at the same job full-time for almost two years is making me really, really itchy (and I _don't_ like what that portends for my future employment! I never thought I would be _glad_ to have been working for startups that went away, before).

And I intend to go to Australia in Feb, which will be money I'm not spending on loans or saving up.

And I want to know what the _fuck_ the abdominal mass in my cat is made of, but the pure surgical removal method isn't really a safe option because of his heart disease, completely ignoring the fact that it's fucking expensive. And the sonogram might not give enough information (which is being done a week from next Weds). And neither might the somewhat less fucking expensive aspirate (which also has some risk due to heart disease, but less), which I'll be doing if the sonogram isn't helpful. My cat is (or perhaps I am, for potential peace of mind reasons) lucky that I can afford to do all of this, but at the same time, the more I spend on him, on things that might not be able to tell me anything, the longer I stay in a field I no longer like. I hope I learn the mass is benign. I hope I learn _something_.

I really wonder how much of my low social energy is stress, since the time of year shouldn't really be as much of a problem by now. And how much the time I'm spending playing computer games is trying to avoid thinking about my stressors.

And sometimes, I wonder what the fuck I was thinking, having a partner on the other fucking side of the world without also having a partner at least vaguely local to me.

Sometimes I am reminded of my mother having lost her father recently, and the immense pain she was in the last time I was near her. And on one hand, I am pulled to go visit. On the other, I'm afraid. Afraid I don't have enough energy to do the kind of listening/healing/comforting/supporting that is the _reason_ I want to go visit. Afraid because I've always tended to have difficulty shielding myself from her pain. But pulled. I really should call them. It won't be until next month, anyway, because my weekends this month are booked.

I hate having broken down in tears in front of the vet a week ago this past Tuesday, when confronted with the initial shock of Ash's abdominal mass. And that I literally couldn't manage to get myself and Ash _home_ before breaking down again. I hate that in that kind of a state, phones are basically useless for me. I hate just how much I need people with me in certain situations, but how difficult it is to be someone I would think of to ask, and how difficult it is for me to actually _do_ the asking. I hate that I was alone that night.

I hate that I feel trapped. Trapped by needing to pay off loans and save up money. Trapped by wanting/needing to spend not insignificant amounts of money to figure out what is wrong with my cat. Trapped by knowing that there will be a point at which I will have to chose to stop spending that money, based on knowing his heart condition and his age and probable risks vs. gains of potential actions. And on having to decide between spending money on things which may not help vs. not spending it and being that much closer to moving on to different things in life than my current ones.

I hate this. *Wry* One thing's for damn sure - I'm only having my 'no kids for me!' thing reinforced by all this. Even if I didn't already have reasons for thinking I'd be a terrible mother, this would be another huge one. I don't deal with feeling trapped well, and kids _would_ cause that feeling in me.

*sigh* Sleep now. Yes.