And so this is Christmas...

Hello my friends (and enemies), Life has been really, really rough lately. I didn't get to go to Disneyland with Ellie, which, admittedly, is a third world problem and I've no right to whine about things of that nature. But, I'm also still homeless and still barely making it meet. Times like these, I can really sympathizize with QF wives/Daughters. What to do you when you weren't raised to make major life decisions or manage money (or even have an idea about economies and budgets)? How do you ever progress to an adulthood. I paid my bills and had a place to live- what I didn't have was a resettling pot or a planB. I can't live like this anymore. I've been sick again lately and this time it's definitely from my mental state and from exhaustion. My day starts at 4am. I get up, get dressed, and go to work the breakfast shift. Stay there until noon rush ends. I eat leftovers from the kitchen. Makes me want to tell people- HATE YOUR FOOD, SEND IT BACK! That way I can has their cheeseburger. About 2pm, I show up for job two. Cleaning rooms in a motel. It is far below my degree, but you do what you have to. When I"m not working, I'm writing. When I'm not writing, I see Ellie. I don't do anything for myself. That's why when my dad opened up his can of Christmas ass-hat, I found myself very angry. I hate him. He wrote a note to me, enclosed in a gift, saying, "I've heard you are in need of financial guidance.....wait for it...I have enclosed some seminars..." Firts gift from dad in years and it's more emotional baggage. So, here's my letter to Santa: Dear Santa, I've never written you because my fundamental parents decided you were too worldy for them. They would've let arenic in your cookies so it's probably better you hadn't gone by our home in any case. I think this many years of not writing allows me this one, adult wish list...right? Santa, I want my fathr to snap out of the hallucination he's been in for many moons. I'm talking Chris Angle stuff, Santa. I need him to see and accept the world as what it is. I need my mother out of poverty. I realize that these are usually requests for God- but I'm covering my bases. I selfishly want ease and freedom. I want to be able to take Ellie to a store and buy something off the wrack. I want to give her a present. I want to quit one of my jobs and write my book. I want to get out there and meet new people. Basically, I want to live life. I'm doing my part to work and earn enough to live that life...but, it's hard. I need a mystery, piano coaching laundry woman to pop into my house. Do what you can do, Santa. Love, Mary