I. Have. Fucking. Had. It.

Here I sit, less than 24 hours away from my 37th birthday, and my mother has cut me off. Oh, I'm not homeless (yet), and I still have internet/phone/TV (thank gods, or I'd *really* lose it), but I've been eating ramen for a month and a half (once a day) and my mother thinks that the best use of the very little money I have left (call it $10) is to go down to San Jose (bus, train, light rail) so that I can miss my phone call with Patrick and spend the evening with my mother, grandmother, sister, brother-in-law, and their two children.

I am currently only able to take the barest minimum of medication for my psychological disorders (not to mention my chronic pain issues) because guess what? My mother now says (after promising to take care of me after she lost my second health insurance plan) that she cannot afford to help me out anymore, and so the county is going to have to take care of me.

If things don't work out in a big, big way within the next couple days, I am going to have to move to Canada. And I'm not joking.