65. Stress Dump

Dear London Fire Snake Scorpio,

Hey, handsome, how’s it hanging? It’s been quite a wild ride for me, actually. The sharp “I have no money for food, what are we going to do?” Now switched to an even worse type of stress — the 2,000$ of the tax refund, opening a hole in “Ok, what’s absolutely urgent to spend on?”

And I make shit decisions, really. Do I need to spend 23$ on two types of hard cheese just because the kids miss it and I feel like a shit mom that I cannot afford it for them? Do I really need to stock up on 2 more bottles of olive oil? And the girls’ birthday gifts… sigh. I am really struggling, hon. Mentally, the stress is tripled as I try to hold back the tide of demands against this honestly miserable amount.

Besides food, which is a constant struggle now, I also need to buy other stuff. Toilet paper, hair conditioner — I buy those in bulk on Amazon, so the initial price might be high (the box of 12 commercial big tissue papers costs around 70$, but it holds up pretty nicely for 4–5 months), but it’s setting us up for a while. Then there are the small things.

How can I say no to my 14-year-old Drago, discovering herself and her beauty, standing hours in front of the mirror and shaping her wavy hair into the curls she wants when her mousse runs out? Her hair cream? Each bottle is cheap, thank God, but it does accumulate. The bird food is only $13 per bag, and they need it once a month — but it’s also money, isn’t it?

For me, I cannot avoid buying the wedge pillow before the surgery, the doctor insisted that I need to sleep or rest on it. And to be honest, my back is rebelling lately with the intensity of my cooking and training picking up again. There goes another 60$. Bags — garbage, sandwich, recycling. Witch Hazel water for homemade sprays I made for them — that saves tons on perfumes, hair sprays for the little ones and lice repellents. (I have about 2k$ worth of essential oil “pharmacy” in the house. It’s durable and holds for years.)

And before you know it, it’s $600 on Amazon and another similar amount at the grocery store. Add to that an exterminator because the basement, where Drago’s room is located, is crawling with bugs. I suppose it will cost around $200 (You can imagine the dread a 14-year-old has from those), the phone line I need for Stallion, $150 per year (a 12-year-old starting 7th grade who needs a way to communicate with me now that he can move without my supervision). The accountant $250. And, before I even blinked, we are spending $1800 before they even had a moment to sit in the bank account.

The temporary relief from stress of “Phew, we can survive another month” almost makes the “Shit, we need money for next month” double the stress, lol.

I am not complaining, sir, I swear. You know it’s not my style. The social worker from Drago’s school found us 2 more independent food banks. She is not too hopeful about the content, but I am grateful. Both for her efforts and for the resources. I sent my neighbour a list of produce we need — I have run absolutely out of everything—and I am hoping to keep it under $75 so I can pay her back with the gift cards we received a while ago.

There are some government plans I need to apply to, which might be helpful. There are the medical and dental care programs I need to renew, and I hope to contact social services again next week. Did I tell you what happened there?

So, unlike in the UK or the warland, where there is one door for your social services — one governmental organization you go to — in Canada, there are different smaller “doors” to the big system. In my city, there are 4–5 agencies that serve different communities. The social services are all under one umbrella, of course, and they share systems, budgets, and the rest of that, which I understand little about. But there are many agencies.

One of the agencies is an emergency intervention agency, and because we were in the hospital with my E. coli in the blood, kidney infection and suspected sepsis, we needed help — me and the kids — we have an open file with them. So, when I asked my community’s social services to open a voluntary file request, they could not process it, because our case is under a different agency.

So, spoke to the social worker in the emergency intervention. She said she transferred the file to my chosen services this Tuesday, and it will take about a week for them to receive the forms. I don’t know how long it will be until we are assigned a social worker and they contact us, but hopefully, things are moving.

That emergency intake lady also did a welfare checkup on the kids, and, speaking to them, they mentioned the discipline methods of their dad. Including shoving them into their rooms, sitting the little ones on high shelves and shit like that, the kids told me about. She said that she needs to talk to him about that.

Honestly? I am glad on one hand because he is a coward, and, even though I know nothing will be done because it’s not “severe” enough, I know that, at least for a while, hopefully, he will get his act together. On the other hand, there is always the chance that he will be vindictive to the kids for talking to that social worker, and that is another ricochet I am waiting to catch.

Well, now that I have unloaded some of the stress, let me tell you about my week. I find it very successful and am quite proud of it.

Last week, if you recall, I went berserk in the kitchen and worked 9:00–15:00 after the kids went to school, then cooked every evening, Monday to Thursday, 16:00–22:00/23:00 after picking up the kids. I made a lot of food, froze a lot of cooked beans, and set us up for a bit. I didn’t train that week because the transition to the full schedule was quite brutal, and I wanted to ease in.

Stop smirking. Yes, 7:00 to 23:00 is my way of easing in. Brat. If you were next to me, I would smack your shoulder right now for that look.

Anyhow, then came Friday. It was a single day last week that the kids went to his house, and I declared a full rest day. I watched movies and whined to you about shit, remember?

Thanks for letting me offload some of this chaos in my head.
Love you intensely. 
Yours,
Oxy. 
May 20, 2026

Help me find him: Have you seen this man?