WHY?

Sometimes we do stupid things. OK. Not WE. Sometimes I do stupid things. Things I regret later.

This internship is one of those stupid things.

Sadly, I am hearing my dad in my head saying, "Stupid, stupid, stupid..." Something I use to hear a lot when I was a child. Or maybe not a lot, but often enough for those words to leave a huge impression. I love my dad and I know he regrets some of the "stupid' things he did while raising us. For the most part, we've talked and tried to work through those problems. But this isn't about that.

Back to the internship.

I did it because I felt I needed something to do and doing that something while getting a few college credits seemed like a good idea. Working for a cause I supported fit into my basic need. More than anything, I needed to force myself to get out of the house and not let my PTSD control me.

Why do I regret making this decision? First, ALL I do is make phone calls. "Hi, my name is Tina and I am a volunteer for the New Mexico Republican party. Can Mitt Romney count on your support in the upcoming election?? "Do you plan to do early voting? Can I give you any information about early voting?" I was told I would do more than sit there for four hours four times a week making phone calls. I hate talking on the phone. Yeah, I have a rotten attitude. Which gets worse by the day. However, I go to work. I don't complain. I do the job I am asked to do. Second, and far worse. I am doing this for college credit ONLY. NO pay. When I registered for the class I was told I had a $75 late registration fee. I could handle that. I asked if my Pell Grant would still apply, because I was registering late. I was told that would NOT be a problem. Turns out it was a problem. Turns out I was too late to have my Pell Grant cover about $1000 in tuition and fees for this Stupid Internship. Turns out that as soon as I registered it was too late for me to cancel the class. Turns out I am stuck with paying those fees. Turns out I cannot register until I've paid them....this internship is not worth $1000. I don't have $1000. I don't know where it will come from.

I got up this morning. I was instantly in a sour mood, because I walked into the room just in time to see El Jay spit on the floor. Once downstairs the two boys were bickering. I drank a cup of tea and ate a piece of toast. I checked my email and  discovered more negative stuff. Part of it having to do with the tuition issue. Part this. Part that. Part a lot of stuff. None of it happy.

I hit bottom. Or close to it. People say I am strong. That I am a survivor. But I'm not. What other choice is there than to keep going? I've always asked, and never gotten an answer, but what happens when I no longer want to be strong? When I've had enough and give up? What then? This morning as I cried, I had a glimpse of that answer as I wondered if anyone would miss me if I was "gone." Maybe El Jay? If I was gone.... what would happen to him? Who would take care of him? At that moment, I really didn't care. I just wanted to feel less pain. I wanted peace in my life.

2012 has been a hard year for me health wise. I've been hospitalized twice over night. I'm getting OLD fast and not doing it gracefully. It scares me, because I have nine more years of parenting to do. I have a very in your face, high energy, clingy nine-year old and I do not see HOW I will keep up with him. I also have Jeddy, who just turned 18 and it is harder to keep up with him than it is to keep up with El Jay. And... I am raising these two boys alone, with no one to count on to co-parent with. Yeah they both have fathers. Both fathers live in California. Jeddy's dad? He is in contact with Jeddy. Jeddy sees him twice a year. But POPS' lives by the creed of, "What happens in Albuquerque stays in Albuquerque. What happens in Monterey stays in Monterey." I called him a month ago after Jeddy had an upper endoscopy done to discuss the results, he said, "Hey, I'm expecting a client any minute. I'll call you back in an hour or so." I'm still waiting for his call back. El Jay's dad? Lost all parental rights. He is in prison and will not be eligible for parole until he is 111-years old. May he live long and prosper where he is and may the world be a better place because he is gone.

So, my life is a mess.... with no resolution or end in sight. It would be nice to feel there was someone out there who believes in me. Someone to support me--not financially or physically, but emotionally.  At least, someone to talk to. But there is only me.

Ahhhh... another post that I would not want a future employer to stumble upon as they search the web for bits and pieces of who TinaMarie Gardner really is. Oh well.... such is life.