Fell in love with two new apartments yesterday. Both are WAY more than I want to pay, but still less than what I AM paying.

Took the Houseguest to see them afterward. She’s “meh” on everything. She says to take time and really look around and think about it.

This is the view from one of the apartments. Lovely, yes?

I’m exhausted. I’m dying. I gave up two freelance jobs. I’m falling down on the job on the last one standing. I’m working my ass off at the full-time job and not getting very far.

The money savings may not be significant (ergo, she’s right, why move?). But to shave something, ANYTHING off that commute? Would save my life.

I’m so stressed out, I’ve tapped into the Freezer Klonopin. I have a bottle I shoved in there from my old Evil Empire days. Haven’t needed them for a year. Now after two solid days of chest pains, well, yeah. Old Klonopin is better than none at all.

Oh, did I mention I have to give notice to my apartment complex on Monday whether I intend to stay?

I hate moving. I hate dragging someone around town who doesn’t want to go. I hate only saving maybe $200 a month after all the aggravation.

But I also hate coming home late every night, falling asleep on the couch, waking up in a PANIC because I didn’t do my freelance work, scrambling to DO said freelance work, and then getting to the real job late. (As if arriving at 8:15 after an hour-long drive should ever be considered late.)

Something’s got to give. And at this rate, it’s going to be me…

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But there’s a couple people who just don’t have photos available, and I haven’t been anywhere with them to take any photos.

She’s got that psychic vibe and can usually pick out characteristics that are pretty spot-on. But there’s one that she couldn’t envision. And it occurred to me that the girl looks exactly like a girl I absolutely despised in high school … pretty much for the same reasons I really don’t particularly care for this one sometimes.

I laughed when I made the connection late last night in the elevator, rocking Amityville with my gales of giggles. NO WONDER I get stressed out and put up my guard, maybe even a little higher than I usually do.

Makes one wonder whether everything will turn out exactly the way it did in 1992. And I may be 20 years older, but the nice girl can’t get screwed a second time.

Bitches always get the guy, apparently. Even when he’s the nicest person you have ever met, or will ever meet.

Having my guard up makes me such a lesser version of myself. I’d give anything to leave it down and be loved anyway. And there are only certain people, I think, I can do that with. (I think the “guard-down” version of myself is awesome, and wish I were invited to a safe place more often where I can be that girl.)

Till then, I guess I’m playing defense until the merciful graduation day comes. Of course, 20 years ago, neither one of us got the guy. She won in the short term, but his heart stayed with me — he told my mom that just 10 years ago. But by then, the damage had been done.

And here we are again. Is this a chance to right the wrongs of the past, or to just take notes and hone my storytelling skills and create a happier ending, even if it’s only on paper?

This post explains it better, since I’m actively avoiding writing about this: “Crushed.”

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The week started off with an acceptable number on the scale, and ended with the CEO of my new company saying he wanted to schedule a meeting with me to “pick my brain” about how to make a part of the company that has some deficiencies become more efficient.

The perks of staying late after the whole rest of the world has gone home!

I’m still struggling there, but I’m getting my sea legs. I got my 60-day review and they said they’ll keep me. So, hooray! Now to really start applying myself.

I thought I’d make a new start this year and finally admit that all the promises I made to people aren’t going to come together. But that relief lasted about a minute because the fact is, people are disappointed. In me. Which is not cool by me at all.

The thing weighing most heavily on my head all week is that, sure, I’ve had friends screw me over. And when I let down a friend, unlike the assholes who fucked up my life, I take it very personally and seriously.

And maybe I’m being too harsh, but maybe I’m not, I feel like I’m no better than my ex-friend T. That is not a boat I like being in.

I don’t have any excuses. I’m tired. Burned out. Overloaded. Depressed. Anxious. Have not-very-much left to give. Can’t do a great job, and therefore can’t bear to give a subpar effort.

Whereas my life’s pain is spread out over years here (and clearly is only expanding), I have two wonderful friends who are going through absolute hell right now. All their shit is packed into a few weeks/months instead of spread out over time.

This reminds me that we all have our struggles (external and internal); whereas they have something to look forward to when this ends, my pain is such that every day has some suck to it and I don’t see coming out of it in the near or even distant future.

But, about my friends. Wow, I can’t even describe what’s happening to them right now. Some of God’s best people, I kid you not. They are making my problems look like blessings. (Which maybe they are, but that’s another blog entry for apparently another decade.)

But … yet, I envy them — rather, their teamwork.

I envy their “I ain’t going anywhere and I’ve got your back” bond when shit gets tough. They are fighting that battle side-by-side. And that helps them keep their perspective. They can take turns flipping their shit, but at the end of the day, they will have helped and loved each other through it.

When things gets tough here, things that matter to me have to give to accommodate other shit. And when I try to give myself a little room and fun time for a rest and/or a reward, that results in even more self-loathing when I return to reality.

I’m not saying a partner would solve anything in my life right now. But someone to talk to … really talk to — not this “everything’s fine/great/dandy/peachy” that I give to everyone who asks — would be amazing. Because it isn’t fine/great/dandy/peachy and I’m weary of the charade.

But admitting weakness hasn’t really gotten me far, either. It’s gotten pretty much every reaction but the one I need. Maybe if I could get out of my head, talk to someone and get some help in fixing all that’s broken (and that would be just about everything), I could be everything I ever planned on being and do everything I said I would, and more, instead of failing at every opportunity and being reminded of it even though I already know and then being crushed under its weight as I try to anticipate/handle what’s coming next.

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What I remember most from the night, however, was this actual conversation with the girl who took my ticket at the theater.

Girl: “Mission Impossible”? I would have thought you’d be here to see “New Year’s Eve.”
Me: I already saw it. My man Jon Bon Jovi was in it. I couldn’t pass it up.
Girl: Jon Bon Jovi? (*eyes me up and down*) I would have taken you for a Katherine Heigl fan … or maybe Jessica Biel.
Me: *squick* Well, sure. If Jon Bon Jovi weren’t in it, I would definitely have been ogling them instead.
Girl: I’ll bet you would.

You know, I’ll flirt with anyone. But this one was just creepy from the get-go. Had to give her credit for openly eye-molesting me in public. But, well, yeah. No. Thanks though!

What Happens When You Stop Running?