He waited, as the photographs dried, wondering what he would do with them. If these images of gas cans and rags and a burned-out home were evidence, should he turn them in? What if someone had been killed in that fire? He wondered if there was any way to find out who owned the camera initially. Maybe he could do some investigating on his own. He snorted derisively at himself. He knew the thrift store where he bought the camera would never give up that information to him, an ordinary Joe Schmoe. He knew he had to turn the pictures over to the cops.

But that would definitely put an end to his voyeuristic ways. No longer could he live his life vicariously thru the snippets of film he found in cameras on dusty shelves in thrift shops and antique stores in the area. The little family he’d created from these snapshots would have to be boxed up, put away. No longer would he be able to greet his friends and neighbors that hung on his walls; no longer would he have anyone to talk to.

He knew he had to turn these photos over, but he knew, in doing so, he was killing something, too.

–

For the Scriptic.org prompt exchange this week, Tara Roberts at http://thinspiralnotebook.wordpress.com gave me this prompt: You buy an old camera at a thrift store, when you get it home you discover there is still film inside. Do you get it developed? If you do, what is on the film?

I gave Eric Storch at http://sinistralscribblings.com this prompt: We don’t need to be friends.

1. My car passed inspection. I was worried it wouldn’t. And it was due back in August so…

2. I never got pulled over for an expired sticker.

3. I finally was able to go  back to therapy after more than a month off because I didn’t have health insurance.

4. I have health insurance again.

5. I remembered my library password, which is allowing me to reserve books online again. And I discovered The School of Essential Ingredients, which is a lovely book and I strongly urge anyone who loves cooking and reading about cooking, to go get a copy from your local library (or book shop) today.

Fast forward to now (because who wants to re-hash high school? Not this lady, that’s for sure) and I think my confidence is even lower than it was when I was a clumsy, chubby, bookish kid. To recap:

1. My husband cheated on me, emotionally and physically, for the last 5 years of our marriage.
2. He consistently told me that the depression I had wasn’t real.
3. He left me for another woman almost 3 years ago.
4. I got a horrible job at an eBay listing company where the people treated me like I was an idiot.
5. I got what I thought would be a better job but the owner turned out to be a bit crazy and laid off a bunch of people, me included, so she could bring in unpaid interns.
6. I got a job at this news service, doing something I really enjoyed and felt like I was really good at and worked there for 18 months with very few problems. The Friday before New Year’s Eve, I was called into the owner’s office for a review and they laid me off. Well, reduced my hours to a whopping 8 per week. I found out, after packing up my desk and driving home, that my hours were given to someone that had been fired a year ago.

So you tell me. How do I remain confident in my ability to do anything? To have a relationship (which I haven’t even attempted since Mark and I split up)? To be confident that I know what I’m doing in a job, that I can handle responsibility and that yes, even though I have kids, I can still be a reliable, intelligent, responsible employee? How do I get those feelings back? Because right now, I feel like I’m maybe capable enough to ring a register at the grocery store.

I’m so upset and angry about it. I know I’ve had to take some time off recently, but my kids were seriously ill. O had foot surgery and then got an infection. Part of her recovery from that meant she had to have a mini-Hickman catheter put into a vein in her neck (!!) so she could get IV antibiotics every day. Then, Boo developed ITP, which was pretty scary there for a while and meant several trips to the hospital and one rather scary ride in an ambulance. I always had my computer with me, though, and worked from the hospital so that I didn’t miss that much work. I don’t know for sure that that’s why they reduced my hours so drastically, but I can’t help but feel that it contributed to it. The owner of the company says it’s due to finances, but if that’s the case, why did they bring on two other part-timers in the last couple of months? It makes no sense.

It’s making me feel really bitter and I’d like nothing better than to hear the place closed up shop and went away. I would take great satisfaction in that. Yeah. Bitter.

I was already fairly depressed going into this holiday season. I didn’t have a lot of money to spend on the girls or my family because of the huge car repair bills I had in November, but I managed to get them all a few things. I was really hoping to catch up over the next few months; replenish my savings account, such as it is, and stay ahead on the bills rather than waiting til the due date to pay them. I’m not sure how much unemployment I’m going to get but I know it’s going to get really, really tight around here. I canceled my Hulu subscription and will probably drop even the basic cable package I have, but I can’t get rid of the internet – I need it for the measly 8 hours of work I will have. Thank god I never got sucked into getting credit cards. At least all the bills I have to pay are just utilities and rent and that sort of thing. Fortunately there’s an ALDI nearby. They’re so much less expensive than the regular supermarkets.

I’ve been polishing up my resume and will file for unemployment tomorrow, but I’m feeling very, very low and blue. 2012 has been a shitty, shitty year.

Springfield, MO

I don’t know if we need an exorcism or a shamanic ritual or what, but damn, I’m sick of the hospital.

Last Thursday, Isobel had an infusion of WinRho to try and get rid of this ITP she has. Thus far, she’s had two IV IG treatments, one course of Prednisone (which is SO much fun, let me tell you OMGWTFBBQ) and now the WinRho. Friday, they did a bone marrow biopsy to rule out all the scary stuff. We go back to the hematologist on Monday. I’m trying not to freak out.

Last night, O started throwing up. I didn’t think much of it since Charlotte had a stomach bug last week, too, just checked her blood sugars more often and turned her pump to 50% basal overnight. This morning, she threw up blood twice, so I called the pediatrician and now we’re at the ER. Because of all the issues going on with her – the mini-Hickman catheter for the antibiotic treatments as well as the type 1 diabetes, they may have to admit her.

I’m just fucking done with all of this bullshit that’s going on. I’ve spent $2,500 getting my car repaired, I’m barely working 30 hours a week because of all the time I’m having to spend at doctor’s appointments and at the hospital – frankly, I’m surprised they haven’t fired me yet, although maybe that’s not legal.

So, any suggestions on how I can get rid of this bad juju? I’m willing to consider just about anything at this point.

I get that my kids are a handful. Believe me, I get it, but I can control them and they won’t be tearing up her house. They are capable of behaving.

Her excuse was that her girlfriend’s parents are coming for the first time and she wants it to be all about them. Which, whatever.

I just don’t know what to think. I’ve been friends with this woman for years. I don’t know if I should just step back or sever the friendship entirely. The problem is that my entire circle of friends sort of centers around this woman and her house, so if I end the friendship, I lose everyone.

My therapist wonders why I can’t trust people, why I don’t like to let anyone help me or let anyone in. This? This is why.

And maybe that’s what I miss, what I’ve always missed, since Isobel was born. Because once she came along, Mark wasn’t there any more. I no longer felt secure in this thing we were doing together. I felt adrift. And I still feel adrift.

Lately, because of Isobel’s health issues, Mark and I have been spending a lot of time together and it bothers me. It’s not the what was that bothers me as much as the what might have been. He’s not a horrible person – he cares about the girls a lot – but I don’t understand why none of that was directed at me. Why some of the caring and concern wasn’t there.

I’m not even sure where I’m going with this post, but I’m missing something. Someone. Someone that I guess I haven’t met yet, who will back me and be with me, 100% of the time, and not leave me guessing and questioning myself. I’m not sure there’s anyone like that out there but I hope so.

Every time I have to spend an extended amount of time with Mark, I’m left feeling lonely and alone and I hate that.

Spent a week in the hospital with Olivia, who got in infection in her foot a month after she had surgery.

Mediated between Isobel and the school as Isobel’s behaviour has spiraled out of control.

Arranged for Isobel to get in-home therapy for her behaviour issues.

Took Isobel to crisis intervention one Sunday when her behaviour REALLY got out of control.

Spent $1,000 to get the timing belt, water pump and some sensor replaced in my car.

Canceled my vacation (sob!) to North Carolina because of Isobel and the car bullshit.

And today? Today I had to take Isobel to the hospital because she had bruises all over her legs – huge, nasty-looking bruises – and it was worrying. Turns out she has something called ITP and needs to have several infusions of intravenous immunoglobulin.

There have been other things – like the washer leaking all over the cellar and the cat knocking my laptop on the floor – but these are the major things.

I’m just done. I can’t take another crisis. I don’t WANT another crisis. I want to get thru a week without someone getting hurt or in trouble or breaking.

While I’m sure running a business isn’t all hearts and flowers, I always leave that place with my favourite fantasy running thru my head, of opening a small book shop somewhere, that I would run with my partner. It would specialize in something, probably Tudor history, but would carry all kinds of books, new and used. There would be warrens of bookshelves and comfy places to sit, in quirky little corners, where you could leaf through a book to see if it was something you really wanted to buy. There would be coffee and pastry that you could take with you as you wandered the shelves, and a few tables in a sunny window, where you could take your time and drink your drink as you perused your purchases. We would have tchotchkes and bibelots for sale, perhaps works by local artists and once a month we might do a showing or a reading or wine-tasting to bring in more people. There would definitely be a cat.

I don’t know why the thought of running a small business appeals to me so much. I don’t know a thing about it, other than a lot of them fail and fail quickly. But I’ve always wanted to run a book shop, since I was a small child. Something cozy and welcoming and interesting. A place, other than a bar, where locals could hang out and chat, maybe play chess or checkers, maybe host a book club meeting or two. And I’d love to do it with someone I cared about, who also loved the idea of running a shop like that, where we would play to our strengths and support each other and just make it all work.

Ah well. A girl can dream, right?

I think maybe I just want to inhabit someone else’s life for a while. Or not feel as stuck in a rut as I do at the moment, the same rut I feel I’ve been stuck in for years now.

Is this what a mid-life crisis looks like? I haven’t bought a sports car or hooked up with some handsome young thing or gotten myself a boob job, but I feel antsy. Anxious. Like I need to rip off the band-aid of whatever this life is that I have right now and just start over again.

I can’t, of course. I have kids who want to see their dad regularly and a job that allows me tremendous flexibility and since I’m basically doing all of this on my own, I need that. I also need the support of my friends and family, especially with Isobel, and I know if I were to move away, I wouldn’t have any of that.

But still. The lure of a new city, a new start, is so seductive.