So back into the long pull towards pay day. Like every month, I've got the usual paranoia about whether or not I'm going to have enough spare cash to make it. I've mentioned before that I've got a day to day countdown of how much I need to have in my current account to meet my direct debits. But I never trust it and I do the same thing every month. It gets to this time and I shit myself that I've not got enough. It kind of looks like I am going to make it. Just. Whatever, doesn't matter how much I scrape by with as long as I make it.
Every month. I just can't seem to ease off and relax and have faith that it will happen. Every month my anxiety shoots through the roof. But I suppose I am lucky, my anxiety is just in the last week. People live with this every single day. I guess for a while that was me but slowly, like over the course of years, I've managed to stretch it out so that the anxiety only happens in the final week. I suppose that is something.
I keep hoping for good news. I keep believing some day my luck is going to change. I did a PPI search just before the deadline last year and I keep thinking I am going to come home and there is going to be a nice, fat cheque waiting for me. It's dragged on and on, apparently there are two accounts that qualify but I've still not heard a thing.
Instead, I came home the other day and it's a final demand for my tax bill. I don't know why but every year I have to do a self-assessment. Again, that is another thing the blows my stress levels through the roof. I work a normal, PAYE job. Straightforward. For some reason I cannot figure out they change my tax code every year and every year I seem to end up under paying when I submit the assessment.
Most years it hasn't been a problem. I'm usually a few hundred quid under. I have a direct debit set up to the government and pay a little every month. But not this year. This year they are up one their hind legs and making final demands for the same few hundred quid. And instead of just letting the direct debit run like always you have to go through a big fucking palaver on the website. OK, it's maybe not that complicated but it's the wording of it. It is written basically as if you are asking them to consider being merciful and you have to acknowledge your unending gratitude to these cunts.
There is a real change in tone when it comes to tax. The cynic in me suspects the change in government. They are not going to chase Amazon or Virgin, they are going to fuck you and me. You can really see it coming in anything that involves you interacting with the government about anything financial. It doesn't bode well, it feels like we are headed to a good old fucking on the village green.
I've run out of credit on my daily credit card again as well. It happened with about 10 days to go and I'm not really sure why. I suspect I might have underpaid last month. So while I was celebrating having a little more cash in the bank that month I was actually headed towards maxing out my card. I've been having to pay for food and the basics of daily life on my debit card. Cash straight out of my bank. Hence why the panic about having enough til the payday.
I've fucked up this week as well. I've been coming out of the depression I was in last week. I was feeling in a celebratory mood so been buying lunches every day. Not much, maybe 3 quid a day, but it still mounts up. Food is how I medicate my moods sometimes. It's the thing that surprises most as I tend to eat really healthily and I'm fanatical about exercise. But I also know I do that as I have a really addictive personality and if I didn't I would be a fat fuck.
Last week seems like a lifetime ago. My depression phases are always like that. After my divorce it was long, sustained lows but now it tends to be 3 or 4 days, maybe a week, of intense low followed by a clear ramping up the other side. When I climb out of the pit it always feels like it was a very long time ago and I don't know what the fuck I was ever complaining about.
Work is still pissing me off and I am still on the lookout for a new job. I have grown to fucking despise the place. My salary hasn't changed in six years and now I'm being moved to a new location about 15 miles further away. It's not everyone, just a handful of people and I am one of that handful. It is going to cost another 20 quid a week or so in fuel. It also fucks up my childcare obligations as I can't make my drop off and pick-up times any more. I'm looking at either cutting my hours (and therefore salary) or paying for extra childcare.
Not a fucking question about whether this causes me problems, whether it is manageable. Just told to live with it or fuck off. And sure enough my contract has a clause in it that allows for this.
I fucking hate these people. I am paying for four millionaires to get richer. There will be no thanks. I might get another £50 Amazon voucher (I buy fuck all from Amazon) but that's it.
So at the moment I am doing my best to find another job that pays better and treats staff better. But I can feel myself teetering on another depression over it because those two things don't seem to exist in the same place.
No comments:
Post a Comment