I'm Fine, Everything's Fine

I interrupt the regularly scheduled fanfic to just go off the deep end about shit that's been hitting the fan of my life. If you missed the nonsense, it's up for free on my Patreon. I promise I'll get back to it once I'm a little emotionally better, but I really need to vent. Hence the kittens.

Everything's better with kittens.

First up, I am a kept bean. I have been supported financially, emotionally, and sometimes haptically by my Beloved. She's a hard-working programmer doing good things and the body corporate that was paying her wages went tits up an an unspecified point last year.

Good news - her side gig programming was already a registered small business. Better news - I was already working for her in the Stress Testing department. Making sure all the buttons did what they were supposed to do and that the instructions were relatively idiot proof. Sometimes, I'd even tweak the interface language. It was all good.

Bad news - it only takes one arsehole to shit all over that.

That's right. One inanimate carbon blob up and decided to ghost her on the bill and that's why my bank balance is currently in double figures.

Possibly good news... It did light a fire under me to pitch my firkin books like I was constantly saying I should. There's a CHANCE that this will supply some extra bonus income.

Definitely bad news - I get anxiety attacks whenever I send my big stuff out to the judgy people who can potentially control my income. Yes, I know it'll get easier with practice. Yes, I know the only way out is through it. YES, I know I have got this, I'm a good writer, et cetera.

Doesn't stop the old reliable head gremlins from telling me this is a delusion, I won't get anywhere, and I'm actually a useless lump of meat that's only good for menial tasks. And yes, I know they should shut the fuck up already. Working on that. Still. After forty-something years of having to deal with the little shits.

Nobody ever tells you that the bullying you endure as a kid continues on for decades after the bullying is long gone from your life. That your brain gets used to being told horrible things so it starts telling itself that shit just to keep the pattern going. And boy howdy is it rough getting that noise to stop.

There is hope on the horizon, and I have to cling to that hope with white knuckles because it's all I've got at this point. There's the new app Beloved's working on that will definitely see to a need that a great many people have. Maybe even save a few lives in the process. There's the chance that someone I'm spraying books at will like one of them and hand me an advance to joosh that thing up. [At which point I shall be a Job Creator(tm) because I know someone who's doing editing work and also needs money]

And there's the chance that the aforementioned inanimate carbon blob will need Beloved to unfuck the thing they commissioned. At which point my love will demand back pay and a double advance up front because she knows this particular blob is a cheap arsehole. No "pay you later I promise", it's payola or crayola(aka: figure it out yourself), my fine feathered fiend.

And yes I just made that up.

I make a lot of things up... but not the current crisis. That is astonishingly, heart-tighteningly real.

Reminder that you can support me financially and get stuff for it by choosing which link to follow in the menu of my Hub Site: Internutter.org - it has links to my everything I have online. Thank you, kindly.