With great powerlessness comes great responsibilities.

Hey all.

Well, today was certainly D-Day when it comes to stress levels. I know what some may be thinking "Oh yes, Christmas is the most stressful time of year, all that last minute shopping and Christmas mailings and so forth." Well, this actually has nothing to do with Christmas. It just happens to fall in the same time frame.

I will not go into gory details as I don't want people to start petering out after the fifth ranty paragraph. Long story short, my (recently-ex) place of employment fucked up so amazingly and royally, that I am left in fairly financial dire straits for... who knows how long. My favourite quote of the day from the umpteenth person I talked to in person or on the phone was "well, our hands are kinda tied." And to paraphrase the many conversations I had with the finances woman for my employer who made said boo-boo? "Oops."

So there I am, bursting into tears in a government cubicle. On a side note - do all government offices have the same damn kleenex boxes? My therapist has the same abrasive, thin, pink kleenexes that I found myself shedding tears in ONCE again. It's been a while since I've walked down the street trying to sob subtly (there's an oxymoron) but for the record, it's still embarassing.

I know, what does this have to do with the title of my blog? Well, I'm also my mother's power of attorney and as soon as I got home from my watery stroll, I got three seperate phone calls regarding her finances, business, blah, blah, blah. I think it was the final straw. Especially when I realized with great shame that I'm envious of my demented mother for actually having stable enough finances with which to live comfortably. There I am, preparing to re-invest with Mum's portfolio, and I had to use my laundry coins to buy cigarettes. Now I just have to figure out how to pay for the three loads of laundry I need to do.

Yup, having (albeit a fairly brief in the grand sceheme of things) financial crisis really does make one feel powerless. It could also be freeing, having no money, but I have the added bonus of having the responsibility of handling money - without the money.

So I was feeling awfully darned sorry for myself. Is this where I have an epiphany and realize that I may have no shoes but there's a man out there with no feet and so on and so forth? No, I actually selfishly and thoughtlessly wallowed far longer than I'd like to admit. And then it hit me. No, not that someone out there has no feet, but that I will be okay, and I have good friends and family, and it will never get as bad for me as it does for masses of people around me who feel far less sorry for themselves than I did today. Phew! That was a big thought bubble. Though that being said, I still think that the guy with no shoes may be sadder than the guy with no feet. I mean, how do we *measure* sadness, when it's fluid and different for everyone? It's like saying that someone who is healthier, more financially well off, and blessed with more family than I should be happier...

... when really, I think Angelina Jolie looks truly miserable most of the time.

PS