Fuck. This. Noise.
We went through bankruptcy a while back — I think it was about three years ago. It was the kind where you don’t erase debts — you pay a percent of them as ordered by the court. It’s a five-year process before you are out from under the bankruptcy.
I’d love to say it was all someone else’s fault, but the truth is that we had some unlucky breaks (a job loss & the halving of my income at the best new job I found) and we also didn’t manage our remaining limited resources wisely.
But if you’ve ever been in a financial bind, you know how stressful it is to get a call from a number you don’t know and realize it’s a collection agency. I got one of those before work today. I’m currently trying to rebuild credit, and now this.
Not mad at the collection agency. I’m pissed at my husband for not paying a bill I’ve asked him to pay in the past when he’s cutting checks for household expenses. I’m also very, very, very pissed at myself for relying upon a wishy-washy man who doesn’t live up to his promises of responsibility.
I’m taking just a few moment to wallow in discouragement before picking myself up again.
I must stop being so fucking lazy (or, more likely, so desperately in need of someone who is provably reliable). How many times does he have to let me down before I GROW THE FUCK UP?
New mantra: “Do it yourself. You can depend on you.” Rinse and repeat.