Life Goes On

Gimme Money Honey
Monday, Aug. 02, 2004 - 2:04 p.m.
I'm sad today. I'm crying and I hate it because I feel stupid for the reason I'm crying. I've had this problem for about 6 months and I've just pretended it didn't exist but it's not going away and I just wish that I had a partner who could just sweep in and solve my problem without me thinking about it.

There are times that I really miss having a life partner, and this is one of them. I change the stupid light bulbs, I go and see the school and ring the landlord and get my car fixed, and i do all the housework and do the budget and I never really need anyone to help me. There are the exceptions such as AV equipment (Paulette), web design or creativity (ms-do), IT etal stuff (T) or money (Mother) but basically I can manage most things on my own.

I have a pile of paperwork on my desk. I'm usually good with paper - I have desktrays and filing cabinets and plastic folders and everything is where it should be so usually it's not a problem. Want to know how much my home phone bill was in Sepetember 2002? I can tell you in 5 minutes. However, this particular pile of paperwork can't be filed. It can't be burnt. It's supposed to be completed and mailed and I just can't do it. I wish I could punch it, burn it, throw it away. I wish I had never received it.

I have letters from seven superannuation companies who have all written to me about death benefit for Wayne. There are two insurance benefits worth around $50,000 each and smaller benefits from the other five and they are all waiting for me to sign the fucking forms so that they can send me the cheques. So now you probably think I'm being facetious, hand to forehead, woe is me that I have to deal with all this money. Well I'm not. I am actually crying as I type this because I hate the idea that money is supposed to make it all better. Money is supposed to wipe out ten years of hell, ten years of my life that were taken from me, ten years that have affected the way I relate to people now. I hate him so much. I'm glad he's dead but I wish I had killed him. Everyone seems to think "yay you're getting money how fantastic" and instead it makes me feel like I'm being paid off. I feel as though as soon as I get the money then NEVER AGAIN will I will able to reflect on how awful he was because there will be someone there to say "but hey, you got $50,000 ... what's the problem?".

I made a promise to T on the weekend that I'm going to do this stupid paperwork and I will. But I really wish that I had my Mum or my brother or someone to just walk in and take it away and come back and say "sign here" and then return with the cheque because then I wouldn't have to write a stupid statutory declaration about him. They expect me to say "yes I was financially dependent on him and I need this money because without it I won't be able to survive" when in reality I just want to write "he was a useless fucking wanker who never provided financially or emotionally for me or David or either of his other two sons .. I don't need this money, I've never needed his money" but if I say that then I don't get the $50,000 so what price for my principles?

Blech.

t.

Getting Comfortable
Monday, Aug. 02, 2004 - 8:55 a.m.
Never bang on a closed door, not today, not next week. Wait for it to open.

Fact Versus Non-Fiction
Sunday, Aug. 01, 2004 - 11:13 a.m.

It's a Boy!

Congratulations to Trevor and family on the birth of their baby boy on Friday 30th July!

David had a sleepover birthday party last night which he really enjoyed. Paulette and I went to see Stepford Wives which was funny! T came over last night and we watched Reservoir Dogs and Bring it On.

Maybe if I just tell the facts then I can avoid discussing the emotions.

t.