Supposed to, should and if. Shakira- Waka Waka

6 years ago

Here's my situation:

 

My son's foot is broken.

I'm supposed to elevate it but we have no pillows, couch or furniture in general do to so with.

My furniture is in storage but I can't get it out. No money.

We spent last night in the ER which practically drove me to a panic attack.

 

My car's brakes don't exist.

I'm supposed to fix them but have no money to do it.

I've been driving around with grinding and jerking for the last two weeks.

 

My car is out of gas.

I have some money to put into the tank BUT...

 

My dog's food bag is empty and I have to buy her more.

I'm supposed to decide between my dog's food and gas for my car.

 

I have a pile of laundry that needs to be done.

I'm supposed to have a washing machine in my apartment but the land lord never came through.

I 'd love to call my landlord to get on her ass about this and the fact that our hot water isn't working and we've been taking cold showers for the past three weeks BUT...

 

I  have no phone. It was turned off a couple of weeks ago because of failure to pay.

So everyone I have to call is inaccessible to me.

 

Don't even have quarters for a pay phone. Which is hilarious. Because they're pretty impossible to find these days.

 

My refrigerator is once again empty. Can't fill it. No money.

 

No food stamps either- LOL! Nope. They were shut off because I didn't provide all the information the fucking state asked for. If you don't put all their papers in a perfect order for them, they don't help you.

Only, I put the papers in order last week and, well, they have other things to do I guess. Yup.

 

So I have to call. I have to make calls, LOTs of them. Something that wouldn't be a problem if I had a phone. Nope. No phone.

 

And so I have to travel to get to these places and talk to people in person but that requires more gas,

in a car with no brakes, but NOPE. No money.

 

And I have an injured son, who needs exercise but for the next 6 weeks will get none.

 

I thought mercury was supposed to be coming out of retro grade???

 

Of course, Many things were SUPPOSED to happen.

 

And you know what? SUPPOSED TO is a bunch of bull-shit. It's the most frustrating concept. A device of self-torment. Because SUPPOSED TO doesn't fucking exist. It never has and never will. It's a word in our language and others that was developed for the faint of heart, people who'd rather worry and whine then react and respond.

 

Which is exactly the kind of mood I'm in right now. And last night, when I was in the ER with Douglas and almost had a fucking panic attack because as the nurse was giving me simple 'care' instructions for Douglas's foot a FLOOD of "should haves" deluged my mind and almost fucking drowned me. At least I was in the ER right? Thoughts like, we're supposed to have pillows for him to elevate his foot on, but they're stuck in a storage unit that I should have been able to get my things out of by now only I didn't have any money, which I should have had because my son's father was supposed to pay child support but he didn't, so I'm in an apartment with no furniture, no clothes for the chilly fall weather, no blankets, pillows or towels, for our cold showers that are supposed to be hot but aren't because my new land lady was supposed to send a plumber but never did and I have laundry to do, and will, but I'm supposed to be able to do it at my house, for free, because my land lady was supposed to supply a washer/dryer but she never did, so I'll do the laundry in the laundromat with the money that was supposed to buy Shelby's food, but won't and I'll put gas in my car, that will last about two days, with the only other money I have because I was supposed to tutor twice this week, but only tutored once so I only made $45 dollars instead of $90 which my son and I are supposed to be able to live off of until my checks from subbing start to come in which won't be until next week. And then there's the child support. Which is supposed to come in every week but hasn't come in in a month and a half. And IF it had, I could have paid the storage facility and had my furniture three weeks ago. Fixed my car and been driving safely two weeks ago. And had enough energy to deal with my son's broken foot last night because all these other factors wouldn't be weighing me down.

 

But SUPPOSED to doesn't exist.

And this shit hole is my reality.

 

And my son is on crutches for the next six weeks instead of playing base ball and wrestling.

And we are still sharing one air mattress with one blanket instead of enjoying our furniture.

And our furniture could very well be taken from us forever by the storage facility that has a right to

do so.

And I have a load of laundry I have to get done. At a laundromat instead of my home. Which I have for the next two weeks but after that... well... I'm supposed to get a lump sum check for child support. And I'm supposed to get regular work from the Stamford Public School system. And I'm supposed to have another tutoring client signing on.

 

But supposed to has lost ALL credibility. And I'm just feeling fucked.

Which would actually be nice were it the right kind of fucked.

But that's not happening either. Because, when would it and how could it?

 

And so what do I do?

Well, I'm supposed to think of only positive things. Then they will come to me.

And I'm supposed to work hard, then I'll have money.

And I'm supposed to not let any of this get to me because I'm supposed to have endless strength and

fathomless heart.

 

But I don't.

I'm good and drained.

And last night I felt fucking done. So fucking done I could barely breath.

Because supposed to is great, when you're writing a story.

It's great when you're formulating ideas.

But it doesn't fucking work for real life. And it, along with if and should is just a word invented by a society that loves to torture it's constituents with idealism's while they're living with an entirely different reality.

Ain't it great?

So I'm listening to Shakira- Waka Waka.

Because I'm supposed to be hyper ventilating and killing myself.

But I don't want to. My son kept singing it. All wrong. And I wanted to hear it for real and all right.

And now, I'm jumping up and down on this blow up bed that could fucking pop and IF it did we'd have no place to sleep, but not really fucking caring. And I'm gonna replay it. Because it didn't last long enough. Marveling all the while at the nearly 400,000,000 views this video has gotten and that it has to be the most views I've EVER seen on you tube!

Go figure.

And maybe this reaction makes me manic.

Maybe it makes me bipolar.

Right now though, it's made me BREATHE.

And I'm not questioning it.

 

Enjoy:

 

 

 

 

Thank you for stopping by,

 

Michelle

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