That Time of Year

Yes, it’s that time of year. The time where everyone is joyful and excited; a little more cheerful and a lot more generous. Last year I believe I titled this post “Stressed and Depressed.” Shortly after, I broke out in stress-induced hives and started the holiday weekend in the ED (twice) and all weekend miserable, begging every doctor I knew to do SOMETHING… anything! It wasn’t until a few weeks after, we finally figured out the hives and swollen eyes were due to me stressing out!

I’d like to say I’m calm and collected this year, but that makes me laugh! I have a problem. I am admitting, right here, right now: I. Have. A. Problem.

I know money does not buy love. I know that. But I cannot stop buying gifts. I have to stop. I know I need to stop. But I can’t. I blame J.B. Pritzker– he shut down all the gaming, so my next vice is online shopping.

I added up my credit card debt. Jacob is going to kill me. Well, he should at least divorce me. I need help. I don’t know what that help is or looks like. For the first time in my life, I’m not sure how I’m paying this month’s bills. Two of three cards are maxed out and I had to cash in old lottery tickets to get gas in my vehicle.

I cannot stop.

I do this every year. It has got to stop.

This coming weekend Jacob and I are going to look at a potential house. I am so worried. Worried he’s going to want to buy it, and when we go to the bank to get financing, they’re going to laugh. They’re going to laugh so hard.

Y’all, we don’t have money. I’ve lost it all. Not Jacob… me. All me. I get into manic episodes and lie to myself. I lie that everything will be ok and we’ll make it work. This isn’t fair to him. He works two jobs to try to pay the bills, and it frankly just isn’t fair to him.

I need help.

Please don’t confuse help with asking for money. I do not want anyone thinking I’m looking for a handout. I put myself here and will have to get myself out. But I need help doing it. And it begins with me saying no. No to lots of things. If going out ever becomes a thing again, it’s a no from me. Eating out can’t happen. And I need reminding my girls won’t love me any more if I buy them things they’ll like for a week.

So just stop, right? Seems easy. Oh, but the initial joy it brings! The adrenaline and happiness. At the start. Maybe a day, maybe a week, sometimes a month. And then… the guilt. Oh, the guilt. This is no one’s fault but my own, and I must own that.

I’ve created this mess, now I must learn to clean it up. Just know, it does keep me up at night and I am a little on edge.

But I’ll get through this; hopefully without any hives!