This is what it feels like to hit the wall…

by Janie Jones

I cried this morning because I realized I no longer had the key to the Jeep on my key chain.

That’s right.  I was crying because I realized I didn’t have the key for the Jeep, the Jeep that has lain derelict in our drive way for the last month, slowly but irrevocably becoming a glacial body under a mountain of snow and dog pee because the engine died.  The Jeep I lament every morning this cruel, harsh winter when I’ve had to climb into the shitty Buick that has no heat on the floor, that has bald crappy tires, and sits so low that I, the stumpy midget I am, can’t see over the dashboard without a pile of cushions under my ass.

I’m pretty sure we never got the key back from the garage when they kindly brought the Jeep back to our driveway, being towed by the owner’s pick-up, to wait until a miracle occurs and we suddenly have $4000 to put in a whole new motor, or we accept fate and start selling off the still good parts.  Like the brand new, $600 tires that we went into hock to buy and drove on for maybe two whole months.

Libby was her name.  And though Leif has said we will try to find a way to get her running again, I’ve lost her key.

I’m so tired of fighting everything all the time just to eek by.  I’m nearly as big a wreck as Libby.  I feel like my engine is about to blow, the warning signs are all around me.  But I have no other engine, and have no time or money to get this one repaired.  That makes me feel even worse.

So, I’m crying over losing a key to a car that doesn’t run.

8 Comments to “This is what it feels like to hit the wall…”

    • Thanks. Most days I just want to curl up in a big hug like a puppy and sleep until I’m no longer tired. Unfortunately, there’s no hugger who can sit for a whole year holding me while I sleep off my exhaustion.

  1. My dear Janie, I’m so sorry. It sounds like your key is the proverbial straw: tiny in itself, but just one little problem too many. I wish I could find the words to comfort you but I know how awful you are feeling right now and nothing will help. Things WILL eventually get better but ‘eventually’ doesn’t help now.

    I hold you in my prayers. xxx

    • *Sigh*. Yeah. I hope “eventually” gets here soon, because I’ve been feeling at the end of my rope for quite a long time now. I don’t know how much more I can bear, and not because I don’t want to survive and succeed, but just because I’m so worn down and so completely exhausted that I can’t make myself think straight, and some days even just moving feels impossible. I think about how I have to start packing soon and move, and I don’t even know where I’ll be able to go yet, then how much more school I have, and then how I need to get a job and all the driving and time and expense I have ahead of me yet and it makes me want to cry for being so tired I can barely face it.

      I had a moment of panic this morning because I thought I lost my lab book for chemistry. After frantically tearing through the house for about 20 minutes I found it, in my school bag right where I left it. I totally forgot I never took it out. The exhaustion is making me forget all sorts of things. But then, a tiny voice worries that it’s not just exhaustion but side effects of having my brain nuked for 26 days straight when they tried to eradicate my tumor. How much more will I forget, and will I really be able to finish, or do I just need a year long nap?

      I just don’t know anymore. I don’t know how I get through each day. Maybe it’s not being nuked, maybe it’s not being tired. Maybe my body is just shutting down to protect me from the stress. But, it’s quite distressing to think of it shutting down while I’m driving. Have you ever gotten from point A to point B and not been able to remember how that happened? It’s pretty scary, let me tell you.

      • My poor Janie! Can you see a doctor? I don’t know if you have insurance but I think you need some anti-depressants at the very least. My recent absence in the blogosphere was caused by depression which was caused by life stresses. My situation is not the same as yours now, but I have been there and there’s no shame in asking for help.

        Or do you have a church or counselling you could access?

        You really do need help and that’s not an accusation, it’s a statement of how much you have to cope with – how much you ARE coping with.

    • You are so kind and sweet. And, thank you for caring. I blog because I know I can share some of these horrible things and there are people out there who will understand and be supportive. But, this is probably a conversation best further discussed by email.

  2. Hey Janie,
    I’m happy to listen any time you want to write (oi you don’t have my email address already, use my contact me form on my blog). Sometimes it helps to be able to spill out there to someone you know but don’t know, if you know what I mean.

    Take care.

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