Back in August, my papa went to the hospital. Reasons why will just make this wordier, so I'll skip it. What is needed to know is that he rode a helicopter there as an emergency, was in the ICU for almost an entire month, and was there as a live in patient for 3 months, with physical therapy, heaps of meds, etc. So, doing my best to do what I can despite my fucking mental problems (which I was hospitalized for in June, most recently), I decided to work my ass off for them through 80% of deer season, not writing a single minute down because it seemed wrong to expect payment.

As soon as my papa regains consciousness and can think well enough to worry, he starts bringing up money. All the time. By the time he's home again, both of my parents are ragging on me about money. I do everything I can to not ask for it, whether it's me or my pets. For the last 6 fucking months, they've been extra hardcore on ragging me about fucking money. I did my best to be understanding despite how frustrating it was for me.

Then last week, they "celebrated" papa being approved for disability... by going to the casino. I could not get a hold of anyone for 3 fucking hours. Which, y'know, ain't that bad, right? Except all my suicidal teen years, they would spend every fucking afternoon/evening at the casinos, completely unreachable for several hours. HOURS. Not a few, not 2 or 3; HOURS. So imagine for a moment that you listen to your parents rag like assholes on you about not having money, yet can apparently go to the casino. Now imagine it when you hope they've got wit enough to have self control. And then be fucking wrong. Then imagine that they rag on you both before and after the goddamn casino visit.

Awesome. If I hear one more thing about money, I'm asking the how they could afford to go to the casino or the movie theater or go out to eat, because this is just too fucking much.

So speaking of money, I don't make a dime to my name. I did for a bit, when I first started cleaning stalls for this ranch, but it was pocket change and all under the table. I bought my own bags then. I would now if I had any income, but I don't. When I moved, I started just casually not showing up to my parent's business because it's a literal rage trigger and plus, I hate working for my parents. It's shitty. I finally gave up feeling guilty the other day when I told my boss/landlady (same person) about them and why it hurt me so. She told me to not feel guilty. So... I haven't. They pay my occasional gas bill (don't exactly make trips anywhere special), truck insurance, cellphone bill, and help feed me and my critters.

Yeah... so that's why I worked for them before. I felt bad and they used everything as leverage since I was able to hold a potato peeler, just in effort to make me work for them even after I was hospitalized and they learned how massively fucking stressful it is for me to even BE there.

I've got my fingers cross that I get approved for SSI (google it, fortheloveofpete). If I do, I will be 100% independent of them and I will be, for the first time in my entire life, free from their control.

On the note of money, still, since I don't have any, I have been reliant on my mother to buy weed, which I smoke the most of because she is a one-hitter-quitter and does small doses throughout the day. It's a long story why I am not able to do that, moving on. Lately it's become painfully obvious that she's decided to hold out on me for the most part. There's been countless times since we ran out that I've smelled freshly smoked ganja in the house when coming over and not even a single hit is offered. Which I could seriously use.

Weed helps me:
1) chill because holy crap anxiety
2) chill because holy crap stress
3) chill because holy crap self-harm/suicidal ideology.
4) sleep because can't sleep for shit most the time
5) eat because most of my life my appetite has been fickle
6) it's just also nice to chill, okay?

She knows this. She doesn't need weed supposedly. She isn't dependent (I so am obv) on it supposedly. She only smoked it because papa did... and then he quit and she used me as her bounce board for excuses up until it ran out after I moved out. Now her friend is giving her some dank shit and she just grins and watches as I dig in her old grinders for remnants of whatever was left.

Okay so, now you're caught up there. I also recently stopped taking my sleep aide. I started having the super hardcore rage episodes that I had never had before. Since quitting my mood stabilizer is kind of not much an option, I dropped my sleep pills just to see, and I haven't had any since (knock on wood). So now I am just having a wonderful time with sleep. In a ditch effort to make myself kind of sleep "normally," I stayed up all of Sunday night to Monday morning and worked Monday all day. I was unable to keep myself awake at all by the time 8PM rolled around so I hit the hay... for 12 hours. Woke up a few times, but didn't stay that way thankfuck.

So today, I get up 20 minutes late for work because exhaustion. I scramble, get everything taken care of, scored a fabulous bruise on my thigh from Looker deciding to fucking kick me, and ride with Christina after morning chores. After eating lunch, I came home, made 3-4 replies here, then took a nap on my couch before evening chores. Lasted 30 minutes and made me feel better. I brought in Surprise, a pony mare, and then went to fetched Easy and Raven (tall ass geldings).

As I was putting Easy up (last horse hurray), I noticed something was wrong with Surprise, so I went to her patio door and watched. It appeared she was giving the first symptoms of choke, but I had never seen it before. I walked into her stall and watched her more closely, seeing her throat muscles move clearly as she tried really hard to cough, but failed. I approached her and palpated her throat, which she didn't like. When she jerked her head up and pinned her ears, I stepped back to watch her. Instead of continuing to pace, she seemed to get this look of realization and moved close to me, shoving her head into my abdomen. I decided to try palpating her some more and this time, she let me. I stepped away again to watch her and she began coughing more, and mucus-y, chewed feed came out of her nose. She snorted and rubbed her face and snorted, continuing to visibly flex her throat and cough.

This was every sign of choke in a horse.

I immediately called Nancy (boss and landlady) and she failed to pick up on both attempts. In a ditch effort, praying he would actually answer, I called her husband. He answered and I told him, panicked, that Surprise was choking. I palpated her a bit more, trying to help. Feed poured out of her nose like a fucking turned on faucet. Then... gods bless, just before he arrived, she seemed to recover. Idiot immediately wanted to shove more feed into her mouth. With Val's help, we took what was left of her feed from her (since eating it too fast caused the choke) and gave it to another horse. I gave her extra hay, checked on her a few times, then called it a day, feeling proud of myself for catching onto the issue at the start, esp with never having actually seen it before.

Went to my friend's house to discover she likely accidentally killed her cat, Lily. She'd escaped their house and Christina, without thinking too much about it, had went out to pull her car further into her driveway so her boyfriend would have a place to part. She said it started funny, but thought nothing of it... until her cat awkwardly zoomed out from under her car. Lily eventually made it into the house and rushed into the bathroom before Christina could look her over. When I arrived, I found Christina rightfully crying in the bathroom, where she explained it all to me. We finally got her cat from under the bearclaw bathtub to discover the horror. She wasn't opened up anywhere, really, but she's been literally SKINNED ALIVE on her front legs and was well shaved on her chest. A leg or her back is likely broken; no one is really sure.

So that fuckery moved on from, I went to my parent's house to care for my rabbit (who will be moved here eventually). I tried to comment on mom not getting my text and she snapped at me. "OBVIOUSLY not since I didn't text you back." Okaaaay, geez. Then I stepped out of the kitchen and looked at her, noticing what appeared to be my papa's computer sitting up in the chair near her and her desk. I looked at it funny, then looked at papa's desk, then looked back and forth between the two confused. She snapped at me again. "WHAT!?" "Uhm... I was just... that looks like papa's computer so I was confused." "Oh. Well he got a new one. Not new new, but still." I immediately left.

Now here I am on take two of this fucking rant.

I'm glad I don't live with them anymore. I am growing to resent them so much.