Here I am at the end of the year. Elliot has been gone almost a full year now and I am in even worse shape than I thought I would be at this point. Financially I am in a disaster. I don't even have enough to take care of my fixed monthly committments. If Max weren't working and contributing, albeit inconsistently, I wouldn't be able to survive right now. But that aside, the real story of me at this time is depression and fear. I know I am depressed but I don't see any value in asking for medical help. Drugs won't do anything and I am fearful enough about my medical status hat I don't want to mess around with it. I am extraordinarily lonely and with the exception of two friends who are caring and relatively attentive despite their own issues, I have no real friends or confidantes. I am engaged in an exercise in futility in job searching and I borrowed and spent too much money getting involved in this pyramid scheme of money earning which I now have to continue so that I can generate money to pay back what I borrowed. But the real depth is the loneliness. Elliot and I weren't really lovers or friends but we ended up over the years living together as companions. And that is at least a portion of the ingredients of loneliness.
The other deep and abiding fear is what will happen to me and where will I go. None of my children have even come up with the concept of taking care of me. The only solution available is Manahawkin, a horrible concept at its best, and clearly not a solution to saving my home here. Which I am going to eventually lose and can't maintain safely even now. I certainly didn't inherit my mother's common sense and intelligent planning capabilities. So I lie awake in fear, go out as little as possible and try to talk myself into doing the things I would like to do, but can't muster up the psychic will for. Enough mouldering for today. Maybe I will come up with something better to talk about tomorrow.
Madkatiesays 
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