The little one and I are living on our own now, finally. Dad moved a good hour away so we don't have much support system left. I finally got a job paying something resembling a living wage. I can pay the bills, barely. I'll also get my pharmacist technicians license in a year if I can stick it out, and that's a decent career path with stability and all that. Unfortunately I'm just a temp hire to start with. I was an idiot and didn't get on the terrible insurance plan the temp agency offers. I've been super depressed, and your birthday didn't help. Nothing seems to help, and I can't just go to the doctor and get my meds adjusted. The house is a mess and we've been living off ramen and instant mac for a couple weeks now. I've been able to hold it together to some degree until this weekend. We're down to the last little bit of milk for Z's breakfast, so I have to go out tomorrow. I'm dreading it. And I know how it'll drain me, but we don't have clean clothes for the weeks so I have to do laundry too. My plan right now is just to front load with caffeine and pray I make my way through it. Last year there was some trouble with Z. She was really depressed after switching schools when we moved out and she talked about suicide at school. She'd also wet her pants a few days in a row and gotten a rash. CPS was called. It was terrifying and humiliating. I'm scared if Z knows how I'm doing she'll get depressed again, or if I don't keep up on stuff they'll call CPS again. She's so emotional and sensitive and mature for an 8 year old. You'd of known how to help her. If you were here you'd know how to help me. You used to come clean my house and put food in the fridge and help me get to the doctor when things were rough. You'd help me get to doctor. Now I don't know what to do without you.