Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Christmas is Saved.

I finally got some money today. The tax office agreed to pay me what I was owed. I checked my bank balance online today and promptly burst into tears. I really hadn't realised how stressed I was about the money I owe. I seem to owe money to everyone.
I spent £500 in seconds paying bills online.
At least I can survive Christmas without having to worry about bills and being taken to court and stuff.
Ever since I can remember I've been crap with money. Money and me don't go well together, I think even if I had tons of the stuff, I'd still not cope.
When I was married I used to do EVERYTHING including the bills. We never had enough and I was always fretting about it.
For about 2 years before we split up I became obsessed with receiving mail. I was terrified of the post man. Terrified he'd bring me bills I couldn't pay and my husband would find out and hit me. He had a wicked temper.
The obsession mounted into a horrendous ordeal. I couldn't leave the house until the postman had been. Now Royal mail isn't known for it's efficiency and some days they didn't arrive until gone 2pm. I refused to work early shifts at my jobbecausee I couldn't get the post. I blamed childcare, and even working a late was terrifying. If the posty didn't come until gone 2 pm and I was in at 1.30 I'd have to ring in and make some excuse about the car breaking down.
I had my friends have keys and collect the post and EVEN pay to have the mail stopped for a week, if my husband was working late shifts. Obsession at it's worse. All consuming, all enveloping and I'm pretty sure was the catalyst that tipped me over the edge to a mental breakdown.
I'm not scared my the postman now. But I do refuse to open letters sometimes (until I feel strong). I felt so alone when I was married with money worries and hey ho I'm alone still. But at least the mess is my own doing and I can rationalise it. Plus no big bully is going to whack me for getting it wrong.
The worst was after Christmas though, that big after xmas skint feeling. I dreaded the post after Boxing Day and thenext few weeks with no money and all that sickening worry on my shoulders.
I couldn't ever get married again. It was too horrendous, too controlling and worrying.
I'm not the marrying kind.

BTW I had a mate called Martine who found out in a dreadful shock, that's husband was gambling all the money they had. He was paying the postman to deliver letters under the garage door so she didn'tt find them.
She found out with a BIG bang, when they came to repossess the house one day. She was home with the baby and they just came to the door. They could tell she was shocked and had no idea and left it for a week, but she had to get out.
Needless to say she divorced him.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

So you could never leave the house until the postman had been eh?? Do we believe your motives? Did he ring twice?

Hate bastards who hit their wives. I would never hit my missus, although admittedly that's mainly because she would slaughter me. Think the couple in the Donald McGill postcards.