October 10: One dollar.

I've cried myself to sleep two nights this week. Not sobbing, gut-wrenching events, but silent, lonely tears falling on the pillow as I snuggle with Domo. In fact, every night this week has been a influx of emotion, barely contained, and rarely silenced. It's been a departure from the more carefree month that ushered in my unemployment.

It's been a departure from my new norm in so many ways, and I'm still trying to right the ship and praying for a patch of smooth sailing. Vacation and a whole host of unknowns are ahead though. I'm really trying to concentrate on enjoying the vacation, on not letting every dollar spent seem like another piece of my potential livelihood being spent. Those thoughts breakdown like this:

That dollar? It could have been part of January's rent. That dinner out? Half of the power bill.

It's really difficult to break from that rather destructive thought pattern. I'm sure some financial types would applaud it, but fuck, one has to enjoy themselves at times. It's great I'm able to live and function without a job at the moment, and some of that is because I have been such a bitch to myself budget-wise, but it's making one cranky rat.

Aside from that, my heart decided to release it's self from whatever inner hell it had been imprisoned in and been more active than a bouncy rubber ball on a concrete floor. I laugh, I cry, I go from bubbly to blubbery. My care for people near me has gone from mild concern to deep, almost smothering worry.

I feel like the last man standing, a seemingly never-ending onslaught of zombies in front me. The movie is ending, the final battle is here, and all I have is a crowbar and sheer will. Wish me luck?