I am in a really bad place right now, emotionally, and I keep searching for reasons why. But does there have to be a reason? I keep telling myself it doesn't matter why I feel the way I do, there doesn't need to be justification. This is how it is, and I must work through it.
Lately, I have felt very helpless. It was such a small thing that started it, too, and it's just snowballed. We took out a loan for Sid's mother, whose credit is in the shitter (her husband had a heart attack a few years ago, and all their resources are drained in the effort to pay the astronomical bills from it). Navy Federal Credit Union then made everyone involved jump through flaming hoops to get everything done. Sid deployed before all the paperwork could be completed, so I had to finish it as his Attorney-In-Fact. I had to mail in copies of the Power of Attorney documents, and this is where shit hit the fan.
The printer wouldn't work. Normally, this wouldn't be a huge deal; Sid would fix it, or I would putter around until I figured out the problem. Well, he's not here to bail me out, and I tried everything...the printer simply wouldn't print. After three days of insisting I could get it working, I gave up. The paperwork had to be mailed, and I had to admit defeat, walk to the library and make copies there.
I pride myself on my independence, so this was a bitter pill to swallow. Suddenly, I felt like I was not capable. All because of a printer!
Then, last week, Cory asked for my help in completing a project for school. He wanted me to record him doing a step by step presentation; a how-to video. I agreed, as it was something to occupy my time. Only problem is, my digital camera doesn't record sound, and I couldn't find Sid's cameras. He's got three, and there's no way he took all three with him on deployment, so they've got to be around here somewhere, right?
I tore the house apart, and unearthed his Olympus. Not my first choice; I would have preferred the Canon, as I'm more accustomed to using that one, but anything in a pinch, right? The Canon seems to have dropped off the face of the earth; Sid insists he left it here, but I can't find it anywhere, and I even searched both cars and the attic. So Cory comes over, and I record him, and now I find I don't know where the USB cable is so that I can transfer the video to my PC and burn it on DVD. I can't find the thing anywhere. The USB that I use for my little PowerShot, and the Canon, doesn't fit the Olympus. And I can't ask Sid for help, because, you know, he's not here.
Another frantic search ensues. After a day and a half, I realize I can use the memory card reader in my desk. Well, great.
It's broken. It freezes up and crashes my computer. Every. Motherfucking. Time.
And Sid is not here to help me. I feel stupid and useless. Normally, when he's around, I do these things all the time with no problems. Now that he's gone, it's like nothing in this house wants to cooperate with me.
Now, I have a huge problem with asking for help. My mother drilled it into my head that I needed to own my shit: that is, deal with my own problems without dragging anyone else into it. Any time I asked her for help with things, I got a rant about how I was stupid, and I had a brain like a sieve, and...well, you get the idea. So it's hard for me admit I need help and actively seek it.
Well, I admit, right now, I need help. And there is no one here to help me.
And I feel stupid. Like I have a brain like a sieve. I feel like a fucking child. And I hate it.