It's too much

I'll preface this by saying that things are always worse at 2am, which is what time it is while I'm writing this. "It's too much," is a phrase Tiger says in a bit of an overdramatic way whenever she's displeased with a situation. Perhaps I'm being overdramatic, too, but I'm certainly displeased with my situation right now, and I need to vent.
I'm awake because I skinned both my knees yesterday, and they are really painful right now, any touching of the sheets makes me cry. I gauzed them in honey yesterday, a remedy that I was taught in vet school for improving vascularity & healing in skin grafts and open wounds. I was proud of myself for having a bit of knowledge tucked away that was actually useful. Tonight, however, I'm remembering the rule of thumb: if it's wet, dry it, and if it's dry, wet it. These suckers are very seepy, and now I'm questioning whether I should have used honey at all since it is wet too. The doubt makes me crazy, it makes me feel like such a complete dumb-ass, it brings back all the frustration and feelings of failure from vet school. Auuuugh.
I stayed home from work today and will again tomorrow because I have some sort of lymphnode-enlarging, headache inducing, general malaise-causing sickness. Feeling glechy on top of the skinned knees sorta feels like salt in the metaphorical wound. Chelsea had to call Vinny's mom to watch the baby for me today, she had to call a bunch of people to scramble to get someone to cover for me at work, and I feel totally lame for making her work extra hard and not coming through when I'm scheduled.
Not working for a couple days, of course stresses me out financially. And my finances are not helped by the fact that I got an $80 speeding ticket in the mail today. I don't even have a car, I must have been on a Snarf's delivery, using Chelsea's car the day the phototraps caught me going 31 in a 20mph school zone, but there I am, photo proof that I suck, again. The whole reason I'm here in Colorado is to earn enough cash to make the move at the end of the summer out to Monterey to go to grad school. I'm making pittance per hour so I have to work constantly. Chelsea told me a second time today that she doesn't think I'm doing a good enough job at home, she's giving me free rent and utilities, so I feel sick when I hear she's not pleased with me because I'm so grateful and indebted to her for what she's offering me here. Sometimes I want to curl up and die. I hurt physically, mentally, emotionally, financially...
I'm so overwhelmed.
I don't feel like myself here. I haven't been dancing at all, I feel pretty isolated and house-bound. I think my body always rebels against being overwhelmed by plunging me in further via sickness. Sickness makes me stop my busyness and look around. But it halts any progress I might be making; it sucks that way.

I feel like the root of all of this is the disaster at Tufts because that sent me into financial ruin and set me back 6 or 7 years in my career. I am remembering the Rumi poem Mel sent me, that says to take a look at your baggage, and only carry with you the stuff that makes you happy. I had always taken it a little more literally, but today I see it as wonderful abstract advice...but I don't know how to release baggage that I am reminded of so regularly. How can I lose the notion that I'm so far in debt that I may as well own a really nice house that I'll never see when I have bills coming out the wazoo and only a sandwich-making, babysitting salary to pay them on? Try as I might to move forward, to enjoy what I have, to pick myself up by my bootstraps, this is the reality. I can't get over this loss and waste, it haunts me insidiously, incessantly.