Venting some self loathing

I was expecting a cheque today for the work I’ve been doing on this contract. As I haven’t worked over the past month, I’ve got a few bills that are now starting to get pretty urgent. I’ve never been good with money. If I have it, I enjoy it, and when I don’t have it, I make do until I can get some more. For a very long time I was on a salary and so I knew I could expect a pay at the same time each month. Now I'm freelancing, and experiencing the less pleasant aspect of the casual employment market. So, I was expecting a cheque, but due to end-of-month report runs (blah blah blah), I won’t be receiving it until NEXT Thursday. Add on to that the three working days required to clear the cheque, and it is not looking good for paying those bills any time soon.

I really, really, hate this feeling of insecurity. Some kind of self-destruct in me means I live in denial when things are good, and sheer panic when things inevitably go bad. I want to be mature, an adult, a grown up, a person who has that little something behind them that allows them a safety gap, and cushion, a little nest egg, an escape fund. It is like, regardless of how much I have, I manage to sabotage myself so I can only just meet my basic needs. And when I need that buffer… I end up sick with anxiety: the realisation of the shit I’m in flashes itself in my mind at inopportune moments, and I’m almost breathless with fear.

How can I be concerned with such petty things as failure in love or failure in ambition, when I do not even feel confident I can pay the rent?

I know that tomorrow morning things will seem more manageable. I know that I'll be embarressed that I even mentioned any of this. The mature Hooch that everyone sees and believes to be the real Hooch will have settled back into my skin. But at the moment! At the moment it feels like there's a concrete block on my chest.