Hey, Miss J!

I try to tell myself that I’m not sensitive.

I am.

I try to tell myself that I’m doing the best for myself by burying myself in my writing.

Inaccurate.

I thought I’d just be relieved to finish my latest chapter of NtC.

53 pages later, I am not. In fact, I’m more stressed out now.

I assumed I would be overjoyed that my dad purchased a copy of a book I published around 2013-2014.

He hasn’t read even a single page. I wish I never said anything…

I’m trying very hard not to feel frustrated and aggravated about the fact that I no longer have access to any of the medical services I had 2 months ago.

This might not be changing anytime soon.

I had different plans and dreams of how my future would be when I was this age. Not only am I at times… frustrated about how my life turned out, but I have periods where I want to sit and cry.

I’ll be up late yet again, working on the house. I am actually making progress this time.

My days are often very quiet affairs unless my phone rings.

No husband.

No kids.

Just cats.

Then, a family member laughingly called me a “cat lady.” I know that came from a place of hatred, because she seemingly wants to embody hatred.

I want badly to have a comeback in return. And she’s an easy target.

Maybe I should ask her next time she says that… if she ever figured out how to get the multi-years’ worth of dog feces off her walls and floor.

Or ask if they ever mopped up the bloody urine from a dog that died over 3 years ago.

Maybe I could ask her why no one in her house seems to understand how to use a mop and the kitchen floor is covered in black gunk.

Should I take more subtle digs? Since she’s done that so very often to me over the years…

Maybe ask her if she ever figured out how to wipe her own backside instead of having someone else do it for her.

Or ask if she can now reach her privates to clean them or does she need someone else to do that too?

And yes, these are all areas that she can reach. She just prefers not to do it for herself.

Or maybe…

…MAYBE…

I should sit back and try to find a more constructive way to deal with my frustrations?

~J. Lyst

When I lost the access to my health insurance, I also lost access to psychiatric services.