Burn One's Bridges: Part 2.

I was too angry and hurt to talk about what happened with Christie last night, not to mention the fact that I tore out of my own house last night wearing capri pants, a short sleeve shirt and flip flops with no fucking jacket, and drove around for hours crying to the point of hyperventilation in 40 degree weather because I didn't want to be in the same house with her, and I knew if I stayed I'd say or do something I can never unsay or undo. So when I got home, I was a frozen, sniffling, whimpery mess and didn't feel much like doing anything. And I probably wouldn't have said anything today either because honestly, I don't really know how to explain what kicked everything into spiraling out of control last night, but my Angie is curious, and hell, maybe it'll do me some good to talk about it.

Ever since Christie wrote me those two bad checks that fucked my finances all to hell there's been a bit of tension between us, and it had gotten worse this last week because it was coming up on two weeks since it happened, and she hadn't yet made any attempt to pay me back or even explain what it was she intended to do, etc. And though I managed to fix the financial mess she put me in by using my income tax check to cover the bad checks, fees, etc. that amassed, it was only a temporary fix. You see, my income tax check was $1,500.00, and after you subtract the $923.74 (which was for rent as well as the utilities from the two previous months that she'd never bothered to pay for) that I had to cover for her fuck up, I was left with $576.26, which probably has you wondering, well, what's the problem? The problem is that out of that $576, I had to now pay all of the current utilities by myself, and then there's my car payment, my car insurance, Cameron's aftercare payment, my cell phone bill, and just basic living expenses plus the rent is now late again, and since she still hasn't paid what she owes for the previous month do you think she has any intention of paying this month? Let me break that all down for you:

1,025.00 (Rent)
140.00 (Late fees on rent)
412.20 (Car payment)
274.80 (Car Ins. renewal rate)
142.00 (Cameron's after care)
55.26 (cell phone)
101.56 (Electric)
114. 28 (Phone/internet)
38.40 (Water)
75.54 (Cable)
Which comes to: $2,379.04

Now subtract that $576.26, and you've got $1,802.78, now let's throw in my last two payroll checks which combined were $730.00, and subtract that from 1,802.78, and you've got $1,072.78 that I still owe.

So that's where I'm at right now, and honestly, I think I've been handling it quite well. Sure, I think I have a nasty ulcer, I've cried more in the last two weeks than I have in years, and if anyone bothers to pay attention I'm in the middle of what would be a textbook case of depression, but I've managed not to hurt myself or anyone else so to my way of thinking, I've been doing okay. That is, until last night.

I knew what she was up to, I did, there were signs, and she sort of slipped up when she was talking to me last week. Come to think of it, I believe I mentioned what I thought she was doing behind my back to Evan in an e-mail late last week. There was no proof, but in my mind I knew. But knowing and accepting are two different things, you know. I mean, she's my sister for fucks sake, and I guess I just refused to believe that she'd so blantantly fuck me over. But she did.

And it all came out last night.

First, knowing that she owes me and because she has yet to pay me back, I've been struggling to keep my head above water, she went and paid $1,000 down payment on a new apartment instead of paying back what she owes me. And if I can't come up with her half of the rent in the next few days, there is a very real possibility that I'll get an eviction notice.

Second, it appears that everyone aside from my mother and I knew that she's planning on moving out on Wednesday (that would be THIS Wednesday February 15th). God, my own step-brother is helping her move, and you have no idea how much that hurt, but hell, maybe he doesn't know what's going on. I wouldn't put it past her not to tell him.

And I think, for me anyway, what made all of this so hard to swallow, what made it so painful, and completely unforgivable is that none of this I heard from her. She didn't have enough respect, love, whatever for me, and my son to tell me herself. No, she chose to go around behind my back and do all this fucked up shit without giving a fuck about the effects her actions will have on me and Cameron.

So there you have it. I'm fucked, but it's okay because I'll figure a way to deal with it. I just don't know what that is yet.

P.S. It's comforting to me to know that no matter how lost or upset I feel my mom has this strange way of making me smile at the most ridiculous times. It was 45 degrees last night and I was standing outside in the biting wind with my teeth chattering, my feet were like little blocks of ice, and my damn tears were practically drying to my face before they had a chance to hit midcheek, crying to my mom on my cell phone when she cuts in with, "Aimee, I know you're upset honey, but could you please refrain from using the word fuck so much?" Sigh, I love her.