By 9 a.m. today, I already had bid adieu to my overnight guest, gone for a walk, showered and dropped the cats off at the vet. I thought it was going to be a positive, productive day. And it was. Just not in the way that I expected.

As I’ve mentioned, my finances have been somewhat tenuous as of late. I had some debt from my marriage and more that I incurred on my own. With the ex’s bonuses and two salaries, the household income when I was married was close to, if not into, six figures. I lost about 60% of that income when I left. It wasn’t an easy transition for me to learn to live on one income.

Anyway.

I dropped my cats off at the vet this morning for their comprehensive exam. When I went to pick them up this afternoon,  the bill said that I owed something like $700. I was like, ummm, yeah. Not so much. But because I was transferring from the vet at one PetSmart to another, I had to extend my insurance plan for the cats b/c the new “year” started today, even though I paid in October. After a few phone calls, the girl finally determined I owed $290. I had anticipated paying half of that. I had the money in my checking account, but that basically blew any and all discretionary $$ I had.

By the time I dragged the two cat carriers to my car, I was in tears. I was tired. I was frustrated. I was just like, fuck it. I knew I only had one option — and that was what was making me cry: I had to call my parents for money.

The last time I asked my parents for money, aside for birthday or Christmas, was when I got married. That was in 1998.

Of course, when I called today, my mother thought I had been in a car accident, I was crying so much. I told her I was in over my head. I told her I had three credit cards. I told her how much I owed. I told her about everything.

To my surprise, she didn’t yell. She didn’t judge. I only got one, “Oh, Monique” out of her.

Then I had to tell my dad.

Disappointing my father is the biggest issue of mine left over from childhood. He was the type of dad who seriously didn’t think a B+ was good enough, even in math. I never got all As, except for one semester in college, so I had plenty of chances to not meet his unrealistic standards. It all goes back to being “enough,” as I talked about a few days ago. Even though it’s not rational, the belief sticks with me.

Anyway.

I was just going to ask them to borrow like $1,000, so I could have extra money for a few months while I figured out what I was going to do. To my surprise, he offered to pay the cards off. To his surprise, I said I wanted to pay him back. He called me back to tell me he left a message for his “guy” at Fidelity — I was like, you have a “guy” at Fidelity? All I have is a toll-free number — and will let me know on Monday when he can get me the money.

I’m in tears right now at the thought that I had to ask for help. I have always wanted to be able to do things on my own. Always, always, always. But, as my former therapist would say, “How’s that way of thinking working out for you?” Not too damn well. I guess it’s about time I let my parents be my parents. I guess it’s also about time that I finally did away with the idea that I have to be “perfect.” Nothing like admitting to family and strangers alike that you’re a mess. Too bad I couldn’t have learned this shit 10 years ago.