On The Edge

…and my fingernails are breaking. I am back in school. And I’m glad I’m back in school. Whether or not I make it to retirement age, there’s no point in making choices that will leave me unhappy, or ones that I might regret. I’ve done many things in my life of which I’m not proud, and been in situations and relationships I’d rather forget, but I don’t have any true regrets. Maybe that’s why I went back to school, because I don’t want regrets.

But now, I have to get a job. And the job market in this city is really horrible. Added bonus, the majority of jobs available are either call center jobs, which anyone off the street should qualify to do, or highly-skilled jobs that require some level of experience and education. That boils down to jobs for which I’m overqualified, and jobs for which I’m under qualified. Really kinds sucks, because eventually, I’m going to need an income.

I’m pretty sure the predatory lender that holds my mortgage isn’t going to be nice about letting a few months slide by, and then there’s the whole grocery thing. I mean, sure, there’s money from student loans, but that money only comes once a quarter, and it’s only enough to pay for a little more than one month. And dropping out of school, well that won’t help, in fact, that would make things worse. At least as a student, working toward a degree, I have a future. Uncertain, sure, but more certain than without it. So now what? I keep looking. I keep trying to find a job that I can do, that won’t interfere with my schooling, that won’t make me miserable and unable to perform in my classes that, basically, will pay my bills.

Oh, and health insurance. Need that, too. The past week has been okay, but there have been many times over the past 6 months that had me more than a little concerned. For a few months there I was throwing protein like it was going out of style. I won’t describe how I know that, it’s not a pleasant thought, but it’s obvious. And it means kidney function dropping. No insurance, though, so I can’t afford to go to the doctor and get tested, usually when I’m not throwing protein, not sure how that happens, but oh well, and have them update me on my status.

Right now, I’m scared. Really am. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I guess I’ll just have to figure it out and hope for the best. I’ve never been homeless or truly hungry, and I daresay I never will if my family has anything to say about it, but I’m not 20 any more. I’m supposed to be able to take care of myself, aren’t I?