So unsettled

I’m so unsettled that it’s overshadowing the fact that my reader stats are going up by 500+ every day lately at Medium. (In all seriousness, though, this is the closest I’ve ever gotten to having something I wrote go viral and it really is super exciting. I’m actually starting to think it might really be possible to get the bonus for the top 2,000 writers this month.)

But here comes the downer: I am so unsettled and afraid about everything that I don’t know how to keep it together.

J has some questions that he has to ask HR very soon, because upon further inspection of the fine print (after learning about what happened to my friend’s husband), he might not be able to get short- or long-term disability when he gets sicker.

I always thought that either of those disability programs would protect us whenever things start taking a turn for the worse. They would cover (I think?) 60 percent of his income, which would be tight but we wouldn’t lose the roof over our heads. But if his disability policy is like my friend’s husband’s, they might not cover it because his cancer is a pre-existing condition.

If that’s the case, then our only hope would be that he could take FMLA—unpaid leave—so I could at least get the life insurance payout.

Today was the first time that I’ve felt like everything might not be okay—I mean, in addition to the fact that my husband is going to fucking die.

I see so many possible terrifying scenarios. He doesn’t get disability, he loses his job (so no life insurance), he goes on unpaid leave and I can’t afford to pay our rent on my own so we become homeless while he’s actively dying.

OMG, I’m practically hyperventilating just thinking about this. I know it’s not happening now but my brain isn’t soothed by that information at all.

I’ve just cried and cried, yesterday and now. I didn’t even take a micro dose, either. The fear was and is so close to the surface. The awareness that I really am going to lose him is so close to the surface. And I just want to mash my hand repeatedly on some giant cosmic “undo” button to make this not be happening anymore.

Assuming we can somehow get through that time without becoming homeless, what am I going to do afterwards? How am I supposed to want to go on?

I was looking more into some of the places I’ve thought about moving and they’re not going to work for several reasons. I won’t want to be further away from the people OR the culture I know (even if I hate it sometimes.) Maybe one of those places would be nice retirement spots if J would be with me. But he’s never going to be and that itself leaves me absolutely gutted.

I’m a city person through and through, so obviously I’m not likely to be happy in some remote village somewhere, whether it’s in Central America or Europe, even if it has a beach. I don’t really have that much of a sense of adventure to want to uproot my life and start over somewhere, especially not alone.

(Plus there are occasional bats in your toilet and scorpions in your shoes in Central America…no thank you. I had to rescue Dylan from a beetle last night and that was gross enough.)

I honestly don’t see right now how I’ll even be able to stay here, in this city. Moving back to Michigan feels like my only alternative and I was honestly miserable there.

We’re getting this beautiful sectional sofa delivered later this year and I don’t even see the point of having something so huge if I’m going to have to go down to living in a small apartment in a few years anyway.

There’s all J’s private student loan debts I’ll have to pay off, which I just figured I’d wipe out with the life insurance money. But now I don’t know if there’s even going to be any life insurance money. So then what? Try to pay them off on my limited income of disability and survivor benefits?

And worse than all this of course is that I’m going to lose my husband, my absolute best friend in the world. He is my world. The financial worries are real but they’re mere distractions from what is certainly going to be such a monumental loss that I don’t know how I’ll ever recover from it.

Undo, undo, undo. Damnit UNDO.

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