Sigh… this may very well be the hardest post I’ve ever tried to write for this site. Not necessarily the hardest post I’ll ever try and write for the site (I’ve got something in mind later that might just eclipse this one), but that’s neither here nor there.
Back on topic, the thing is… I don’t really take to charity easily. It’s just the sort of person I am. I overpay my taxes. I’ll ride a catastrophe curve for a few months. I’ll go without eating for a bit. It’s not out of some individualist bullshit about bootstraps and the pulling thereof or some moral opposition to charity, but rather probably a low sense of self-preservation. I don’t like to be a burden and if I can muddle through I will.
And well, there’s that operative word, “if i can“.
Those of you who have followed this blog and have been my loyal readers probably know that this last year has been… shall we say “fun” for the Cerberus household?
There was the transphobic discrimination that not only threw me out of a job I loved and gave me scars that I promise to emotionally process when I have the time (after the Apocalypse looks free), but also completely drained what meager savings I and my partner had due to their slashing of my hours.
There was the disowning from my family members which cost me a source of familial love, emotional support, and Bob damn I feel like a villain for even mentioning this, but a financial safety net when things got uncomfortably tight. And losing that net meant I couldn’t ever again miss a step.
And hey, not to continue the pity party without stop, I’ve done all right. I have multiple jobs and have had them since pretty soon after I lost the big one and they almost pay my side of the bills.
All things being stable, the Cerberus household might not have missed a step. All things being stable, being the operative phrase.
Unfortunately, my partner’s job decided to dick her around. Maybe it had to do with her being an out queer person or being masculine in behavior in a more feminine office environment. Maybe it didn’t. I dunno, not worth speculating.
But the end result was that they bullied her out of a job, delivering a long series of emotional abuse and impossible standards that when met were regarded with “I dunno, you might still fail me in the future, so I’m going to disregard all of your hard work”. And delivering her one last fuck you out the door by promising her a severance package to buy her a few months to find employment and then not actually delivering it or responding to phone calls or emails about it.
So what does that all mean?
I’m broke. And might be homeless or at least out of a way to pay my bills pretty soon.
And I know. I feel like shit about doing this. About… asking for help from readers who just want to see me rip the throat out of some racist nutbar with a Napoleon Complex and a vocabulary rented out on the cheap as a wind-down from the shit going on in their lives. We all have shit that we’re dealing with and I know that I’m not the only one on the edge of financial or emotional collapse. I get that.
But nonetheless I’m here, because you’re what I got. If you can help, great. If you can’t, that’s cool too. I’m just sorry I couldn’t somehow prevent this post from ever being written. I feel like by writing this post I’m breaking some big rule I should have set for myself. But it’s here now.
The link for donations is below:
I’m sorry. Normal funny will resume shortly.