Monthly Archives: May 2015

The Bloggess. Mental Illness. Being Just Fine.

I found out about The Bloggess from someone over at the Chump Lady website. The Bloggess has thousands of followers and her posts get hundreds of comments — she’s amazing, funny, witty.

I haven’t followed her as closely as I’d like because I spent so much time on the Internet that I was spread pretty thin, but I just read her latest column and it really spoke to me.

It’s amazing and wonderful that a person with mental illness has found a way to be heard, to be weird, to be herself.

Sometimes I try to forget that I have mental illness. In fact just now I was going to type “supposed” in front of “mental illness” because even after all these years I sometimes have a hard time believing it myself.

By far the worst for me is the anxiety. I’ve often said I can handle my depression, but not my incredibly high anxiety — it makes me physically uncomfortable to the point of feeling out of control and terrified.

There were many years of my life when I was married to my “good husband” that I could not answer the phone. I could barely leave the house. I could not meet new people. That’s one reason why it was so easy for me to hide in the online world where I could be anyone I wanted to be.

I escaped into that world the way people escape into drugs, alcohol, gaming, gambling, anything that’s addictive. And by doing so I ruined my marriage.

I saw the same psychiatrist for ten years. And what I thought was a good psychologist for half that time. I was on every sort of medication you can imagine, and in the end I even tried some rounds of electro shock therapy — something I’m deeply ashamed of.

Nothing helped me. I just kept getting worse. And I lost that dear friend, my best friend, my husband because being with me was more than he could bear. I don’t blame him. I can’t think about it much or it overwhelms me even now. We were married for 18 years, and now we’ve been apart for about ten.

I was going to tell you a bit about him, but instantly realized I can’t let myself go there. I lost him. He’s happy now with someone deserving of him. I don’t know why I was so selfish and self centered and why I couldn’t see what I was doing to my life and to our life. I can only see it now, many years later.

So when I think about how anxious I got as I was being trained at my new job recently, it makes more sense. I don’t handle stress well at all. I may never be able to take on more responsibility than I have now. I can be very, very good at what I do, but I will probably not advance much.

My “good husband” and I divorced and I moved away and then I instantly met the bad one on the internet and I was a perfect willing victim and chump and so naive. He saw it from thousands of miles away. I never got to mourn that marriage or work on myself I just dove right into the next relationship which was doomed from the start.

When the guy flying to meet you gives up his apartment, says goodbye to his children, and comes with no plan on how long he will stay, you set yourself up for failure. I was stuck with him. I got caught up in his dreams of extreme wealth — all the while being the one who paid for everything. Because I wasn’t raised to be nosey about personal things, I only gently tried to ask him what he did for money and when he told me it was “family money” I decided to believe him.

So that is why I am grateful for this last year and a half, the hardest time of my entire life, and after my rocky start I stopped trying to hurt myself and kill myself and decided to live. I kept feeling what I thought was a sort of love for him for over a year. I’m sure the few folks who read my blog were annoyed by that — but they were gentle and kind people and I was grateful someone was hearing me and cheering me on.

If you had asked me even six months ago if I could picture myself where I am now, a decent job, decent health, not concerned about the next man in my life, very slowly making acquaintances. Realizing I am a bit odd and that nobody really cares. Realizing that maybe everyone is a bit odd and I wasn’t that unique.

Falling in love with the music of Bach. Looking so forward to Sunday mornings at church. Feeling very grateful, appreciative, and alive. I just would not have believed it was possible.

And now I think I need to know my limitations, but also push them. I have to trust that good folks will come into my life and that friends are in my future.

I know that my incredible anxiety is 100% due to my extremely traumatic very early childhood but nobody meant to hurt me, they were just young and stupid. There’s no point in trying to get them to see the error of their ways because they were in pain too. The gift I can give myself now is the gift of loving myself.

And I do. I’m fairly comfortable in my own skin. I’m aware that I’m no great beauty any more. But I appreciate beauty and decency and kindness in people. I think they see those things in me.

I’ll never thank my soon to be ex for hurting me so horribly that I finally awoke — but between you and I, I am glad that I took the journey which brought me here. I am awake, present, contented, calm (for me), and generally hopeful.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not elated. I’m not manic. What I am is just fine. I am just fine. That’s a lucky thing, and I’m grateful for it.


Going off Antidepressants. Dealing with Anxiety and Drama.

Pretty amusing for me to announce I’d fly to Germany for a long weekend, isn’t it? Well, after spending weeks looking for a one bedroom apartment I’d feel safe in I realized I’ll end up paying at least $750 per month for rent. If I add $200 to that I could be paying a mortgage.

So I’ve contacted a real estate agent to see what I can find out. The problem, of course, is that I don’t have the income to buy where I’d like to buy. I looked at a fixer upper near my parent’s house and decided it needed far too much work than I was willing to do or pay for.

My parent’s home is the nicest home in their neighborhood. I’d rather buy the crummiest home in the best neighborhood. My god it took years for the value of their house to return to what it had been. In a better neighborhood that would not have been the case. I think I need to meet with a loan person to find out what I can actually afford.

Years ago, the first house I ever bought in Oregon with my good husband was very modest, but in a great neighborhood. I’m not sure why he thought we should sell and buy a new home, but in hindsight it was a mistake. We moved to a brand new home in a brand new tract way on the icky side of town. I hated that drive every day into town. And the house did not hold it’s value.

That tiny two bedroom one bath would have continued to work for us. We could have put some money into it. We bought it in about 1992 for $58,000. About seven years later we sold it for $99. Now in 2015 if it came on the market, it’d probably be about $180,000 – 200,000. We should have kept it. Shoulda, woulda, coulda.

But that’s what I want. A small, dry, two bedroom, one bath that doesn’t require anything other than cosmetic stuff. But I don’t know if I can even afford that. I wonder if I can get a second job.

My parents have been in their home for ten years. Between the recession and refinancing it several times, they have zero equity. ZERO. That’s what happens when you buy the best house in a crummy neighborhood.

We’ll see. The main issue is that my parents might not want me living here as I save and search for a house. I’ll talk to them about it and see.

I’m very, very jittery lately. I have been on a high dose of Welbutrin since before my soon to be ex cheated on me and discarded me. I’ve wanted to go off of it for some time and tried to, but was having some withdrawal side effects and even vomited. I finally called the doctor and she prescribed a short weaning off dose, half the strength for ten days and then quit.

So I’m wondering if I feel wound up because of that or because of house searching or what. I can usually handle my mother but right now it’s very, very hard. I don’t know what’s going on.

I ran into soon to be ex at a shopping center. My first instinct was to pull away the minute our eyes met, but he walked to my window and wanted to chat. I kept the car running but we did talk for about 15 or 20 minutes. Then I left. After that I felt weird and sad.

Two days later I’m downtown and fearing I’ll run into him again but this time with his 27 year old girlfriend. Over the 18 months since we separated I have often texted him to ask if he was somewhere because of my fear of running into him with her. So I texted him and said, “Are you at [place]?” He then calls me. I didn’t want him to call me FFS.

He says, “What am I supposed to do? Do you want to sue me and have me thrown out of town?” I thought that would be a good idea, but a waste of money paid to an attorney since one just can’t do that. I said, “I just hate that I have to share this town with you.” So we start yelling over the phone at each other, talking over one another. I’m sure I’m saying things about his “stupid whore” etc. I don’t even know what he’s saying. I hang up on him and try to get on with my shopping. Then I call him back and say, “Why is it so hard for you to just write, Yes or No, when you see my text about whether you are at the same place I am? You didn’t need to call me. Why can’t you give me that tiny peace of mind?”

He said he would. But he was mad. He said when he talks to me his blood pressure skyrockets and how would I like it if he just hopped on a plane and left town? And then there’d be no more money. What would I do then? I wanted to say to him that I didn’t care about his pending lawsuits and I wasn’t counting on them making a difference in my life. And I don’t care a hill of beans if he hops on a plane and leaves. But mostly I was thinking how sorry I felt for him because he has no life in London, either. No way to make a living. No home to go to. His life is tragic.

You see he is living off of his lawsuit money and doesn’t know how to make money any other way, while I have saved most of my half and am working full time trying to get to a better place. Here I go feeling sorry for him! See how he can get me to do that all while he fucks a 27 year old who moved into my bed within a couple of weeks of him kicking me out?

Now I realized I haven’t been “right” since and that’s probably what’s bugging me.

I got up and went to prepare and serve the Saturday breakfast for the homeless and I’m grateful that there are men my age in the kitchen — it’s nice to be near them even though I kind of doubt any of them are single. Then on Sunday I went to church. But today, today’s a holiday and people are partying and being social and I’m not. I was really looking forward just to having a day off, but eh, right now it’s overrated.

I spent $80 on ten plants to put in pots at the front door of the building where I work. For over a year I’ve been walking by the dead plants inside them and decided it would be a nice way to say thank you. Now I’m thinking that purchases like that have to stop if I’m going to save for a house.

If there is a way for me to go to Leipzig I will, but a home is my first priority.

Lastly, you already know that I had a really awful two to three weeks at the job when I started. I was so hard on myself and my co-workers were probably wondering what happened to the person they thought they knew. Well, I’m really hoping it was the withdrawal effects of the Welbutrin, but last week I had a few moments over a couple of days where I just felt blank, like my memory of what to do had been erased. It was an awful feeling. I wonder if that’s what dementia feels like!

I can’t be having moments like that. I have got to find a way to be as sharp as possible and work as long as possible. I knew this would be tough — and it is. I would really like to find a way to get off the front desk position and take more responsibility and make more money. Not sure if I have it in me but will give it a try.

It was fun putting these together since I haven’t had my own home to do this kind of thing for several years:


I Think I’ll go to Leipzig to hear Bach

The cold rebound I had didn’t last too long and as of today I feel pretty good and didn’t miss any work this week. It was a stimulating week but by today I realize I don’t have to go in so early and don’t have to fret over it at night. I’m doing fine and everyone has my back. I’m so glad to be there.

And at the end of the day I empty the coffee and lug trash outside to the trashcans. I make sure there is toilet paper and paper towels in the bathrooms and I do it with energy and a smile. I leave my ego at home. I am not above this job.

Meanwhile I am getting better at the real work and my questions are getting more intelligent. It is a unique work environment because everyone really seems to like and respect one another which is refreshing. No cattiness and they are funny and smart.

They asked me if I would go with several of them tomorrow to a “wet lab” that the sheriff’s office conducts now and then. They want people who have already been background checked so they don’t have to take the time to do it. Then they serve them hard liquor from 11a to 5pm. Well, I don’t imagine they spend that entire time drinking. But they will serve them alcohol and test them periodically. I said yes, sure, but then I realized that I really don’t want to spend my Saturday like that! I hardly drink at all any more and it would only lead to dehydration and a headache and a wasted precious Saturday. But it was nice of them to include me.

I work with young, intelligent, and beautiful women and it’s so nice to not feel envious of them. I just enjoy them and don’t try to be one of them. They aren’t aware of it necessarily, but I’ve been gorgeous and young too. And I’ve had more lovers than they can even fathom. I’m okay watching them and getting a kick out of them. I sure wish I had been like them, and gotten an education and a career while I was young. They enjoy me and I add some diversity to the group.

I’m pretty sure I mentioned it in the last few months, but I’ve become a bit of a Bach fanatic. Something about his music, especially the big choral numbers really moves me like no music I’ve ever experienced. In my YouTube searches to find more of his music performed live, I found the church in Germany where he was music director for 30 years of his life. It’s called St. Thomas Church or Thomaskirche, in Leipzig, Germany. The St. Thomas Boys Choir has sung there for hundreds of years.

I’ve decided I’m going to go there.

I’ve investigated it a bit and decided to go to Germany at around Thanksgiving because Advent will be starting and there will be many holiday performances at the church. At the same time the Leipgiz Christmas Market is on with hundreds of vendors.


I know it will be cold and dark, but it will be beautiful. I’m going to go alone and stay in a nice hotel and go to all the events I can in about a four day period. Spend my evenings at the Christmas market, and then fly home. I’ll pad on a day or two near the front of the trip to allow for inevitable jet lag which I get really bad when I travel from West to East.

There are other places I’d really like to visit including Ireland, but I’ll keep this visit short and just go to Leipzig. It’ll be my first experience traveling internationally alone and I want it to be a simple one.

I feel so fortunate that I have the ability to go, especially after the financial hardships of the last year and a half. I hocked all but one gold ring, one pair of gold earrings, and one gold necklace.

I’ve got my eye on a townhouse style apartment that is more per month than I’d like to spend, but that’s the reality of renting in a college town. It’s possible that I will be moving in the next several weeks. I want to and I don’t want to at the same time.

But one thing is for sure, I will get more sleep there. My mother is the most inconsiderate human being when it comes to allowing other people to sleep. She doesn’t get enough sleep herself, due to her constant worrying, but when she’s up she seems to deliberately make noise. Dad sleeps through it, thankfully, but I don’t. Her stomping her feet on a hardwood floor, her putting dishes away at 5:00 in the mooring. Shutting the bathroom door loud. Taking the dogs out loud. Doing everything loud. I have no idea why she’s that way.

When I get up I trod quietly and I whisper because I want my dad to have his sleep for his health, but she talks loud and doesn’t even get my hint. She’ll encourage the dogs to go in and out of his room and talk to them while he’s laying there sleeping. I don’t know what’s wrong with my mom, but she’s a real piece of work.

I am looking forward to a bit more sleep, that’s for sure.

I do think about my soon to be ex quite a bit, but not for long, and not with very much emotion. I guess when I think of him now I am still befuddled but I am also filled with disgust tinged with some embarrassment that I ever had anything to do with him. Oh yes, there’s some anger too. But I don’t waste much time dwelling on him. He just comes in and out of my mind.

We haven’t communicated in anyway since my email and that’s fine with me.

As soon as I have a place rented, I’ll collect my furniture from him, then move, and then divorce him.

I feel a mellow happiness that is so much more wonderful than the manic phony happiness that I often felt with him when he’d talk about his get rich schemes. He may like to feel that way, but I much prefer feeling this way — as though I almost have a Mona Lisa smile on my face.

I’m going to spend these months learning some conversational German just for fun, although I imagine most Germans speak pretty good English. That’s how it was when my daughter and I went to Amsterdam years ago. But everyone appreciates when you give their language a try.

I’m going to Leipgiz, Germany to hear Johann Sebastian Bach’s music performed at the place he composed it — how incredible.

Sick, Again. A Big Fight with STBX.

I’m afraid.

I can’t get well. I get sick over and over and over again, and I tried so hard to stay at work until 5pm today and I couldn’t. I fear that now that things are falling into place I will just get sick and die.

I feel that at 57 it’s foolish to think I could rise out of anything. After all, how many years do I have left to work? What can I accomplish in that time?

I’m so sorry. I know I’m supposed to be happy.

If I bend over my entire head throbs very painfully. I cough constantly. My nose drips constantly, and this has been going on for months and months and months. I try to work through it. I try to ignore it. I buy allergy meds and I buy cold meds, I do the Neti pot, but nothing helps. Several months ago I saw my doctor again and she finally wrote out a prescription for antibiotics. They didn’t help.

She did blood work and nothing showed up.

I feel like a loser. I’m frightened. I don’t want to miss work. I don’t want to feel crummy every single day.

And I got very, very upset with my soon to be ex husband yesterday.

First, keep in mind how he ruined me financially and then found a 26 year old to fuck and then dumped me. Okay.

He’s having trouble with his citizenship paperwork. He’s been calling me and texting me and emailing me so I busted my butt trying to help him find one single piece of paper from 2012 showing he was even here in the States. I finally found ONE thing, he was on the loan I took out on my house. Of course he never helped me pay back the loan, I paid it off with plenty of interest, but it does show that hey, he was here in the USA.

So the other day I go to the courthouse and get some instruction on what should be a simple divorce with nothing to fight over. I sent him a text explaining my plan and tell him that I hope to be moving out soon and I will need to take a walk through of “our” apartment so that I can see what is still there.

Not long after he kicked me out, he stopped letting me come inside. I knew it was because she had moved in — my pillow was still warm. So I brought dozens of plastic bins over and said, “Pack my stuff up.” And he did. And I brought more bins and more bins, but I was not able to open each bin up and do any kind of an inventory of what he was packing. I always said, “You can’t expect me to know what’s there when I haven’t been in there for months.”

18 months now.

I told him which of MY furniture he could keep if he wanted it, and told him what I’d be picking up. Then I said I wanted the TV.

He said, no. He wants the TV.

Then we screamed over one another for about a minute and I hung up because he started to insult me. He called me back, but I didn’t answer.

After I calmed down I wrote this to him:

You have always called me materialistic, but your greed knows no bounds. I don’t expect you to ever understand — you’re a narcissist and narcissists are so entitled they can’t put themselves in other people’s shoes. I left you with a house filled with food, spices, and a full refrigerator. Cleaning supplies, brooms, pots, pans — you have no idea of the cost of those things. You don’t have to go out and stock a kitchen, or buy a bed, couch, and table. I do — God knows I’ve done it often enough with you. And you want to bicker about a television. A TV that I bought. I’ve lost track of the dvd players I’ve bought.

After I busted my ass trying to get you the paperwork you needed to be successful on Monday in Portland. You are clueless. I feel sorry for you.

I do not want to step foot into that shit hole of an apartment and see how you and your whore live. I’ll pick my furniture up from the front lawn and be out of your hair in three minutes.

You will never understand that you are not owed ANYTHING, because, thanks to my association with you, I now have NOTHING. I will stop trying to explain it to you since you simply can’t seem to grasp it even though it is simple math. There is no 50/50 since you conned me. And you’ll never grasp that everything you have is thanks to me, including your lawsuits.

I want to interact with you from now on as little as humanly possible and hopefully never on the phone again. I’ve had enough of your insults and threats. I don’t need to speak to you regarding the pending lawsuits. I can deal directly with [lawyer].

I have the divorce paperwork and will fill it out. Then we’ll meet at a notary. The next day I’ll take it to the courthouse and within an hour we’ll be divorced.

The fee for the divorce is $273. Be prepared to give me half of that on the day we meet at the notary.

I’m telling you right now: don’t ask me for any more favors. I’m done helping you.

Don’t lecture me on how to label my emails.

And lastly, don’t tell me what you said to me that last night. I wrote it down verbatim before I took the overdose. Don’t revise history, [name].

The contact and disagreement with him has thrown me into yet another depression. No contact is the ONLY way to deal with this type of human being. That last paragraph, by the way was in response to him telling me not to label my emails “divorce” because it was crass or something. So this email I titled: “D.I.V.O.R.C.E.” just to be ornery.

The last comment was in reference to him saying I left him when I tried to commit suicide. I said, “No. You stood in the doorway to the bedroom and said, ‘Either you go or I go.’ And then you left for the bar and I wrote in my journal every word you said and then I took the overdose.”

I need to stop ever expecting him to behave in a humanlike way. He will never be sorry. He will never admit what he did was cruel and wrong. He will always blame me and others.

I really wanted to go read his email account so that I could get filled with more rage and hatred for him, then I quickly remembered that it would only hurt me.

NO CONTACT is the only way to deal with these monsters.

I’ll get my furniture, I’ll move out, and I’ll divorce him. Then I hope to never see his face or hear his voice ever again.

Why did I try to help him in the first place? Because I’m a decent human being, I guess, or just a chump.

But I will no longer help him in any capacity. I am done.

As far as what I hope to accomplish by beginning to rebuild my life at 57, well, at least I’m not 58 yet. I will put this in the hands of God, because it’s way too big of a concern for me.

If you have any thoughts on how I can build up my immunity and get well, I’d really appreciate it.


Working Hard. Trying to Go Easy on Myself.

I’ve been on the job for two weeks. That first week was really rough and now I feel embarrassed by how panicked I was. I fear that they are all wondering what they’ve gotten into with me.

To be fair, while my trainer was very patient, she didn’t teach me in a sequential manner so I was forced to figure that out on my own. She was really eager to begin learning her own new job. I’ve got the gist of the job now, although I’ll be fine tuning it for months.

I am pretty sure I’m overreacting, which is my way. I wish I could see my therapist, but I doubt I’ll ever get to see her again. I’m not about to ask for time off for that.

The truth is I’m just so oversensitive and hard on myself, and it can be very annoying for others to be around, as I’m sure you can relate by how I write here. These are deep family of origin issues having to do with insecurity and lack of confidence. After all, I feel I actually did learn the job quite quickly.

The director seems to like me and I feel now that my deer in the headlights fear has subsided, that my co-workers will remember why they liked me enough to hire me. I have to keep telling myself that.

This has been challenging, to set my alarm every day at 6am — to function at work even though I’m not sleeping enough. In my early days as an office worker I was a receptionist and I really disliked it, although I was good at it. I don’t like to be the one running for the phone while others are doing what they want to do. But I decided months ago that if I got work I would remove my ego from the equation and that is what I’m trying to do. I have to become self sufficient.

I tried to communicate with my husband this week, to see if he’d meet me at the courthouse to get our divorce started. He was twitchy about it and lied to me — I feel bad for him for being such a liar when the truth would work just as easily. I texted him that I could do it on my own and have him served and he said how dare I talk about something as insulting as having him served.

I’m going to start the divorce next week come hell or high water in fact the sooner the better because I’m fearful he’ll ask me to delay it. He’s having difficulty in his citizenship case. He’s having to prove where he was and what he did for the last three years and guess what? Those years of not contributing to society, living off of me, having nothing, not even an income tax return or a cable bill in his name to show for it — it’s all coming back to haunt him. It’s as though my guardian Uncle Sam Angel is serving him some karma.

My father says good — that whatever ill comes to him it is what he deserves and more.

But I feel sorry for him because his life is so pathetic.

I wonder if he ever stops and considers that all his problems are because of decisions he made — no one else, just him. Does he stop to think how he didn’t contribute to our living expenses? No, he is only aware that he’s been asked for information that he is unable to provide, therefore it must be stupid and unnecessary.

I don’t know what will happen. It’s not like they’ll ask him to leave the country. He’s here legally. He’ll just have to postpone citizenship until he can prove he can take care of himself. And to be completely honest, he can’t unless he finds another chump like me. He is very industrious so I believe he can and will find her.

That is why I want to start the divorce and get it to a point of no return so that he can’t ask me to postpone it or do him some kind of favor. If I say no, he says I’m selfish and unreasonable. How ridiculous is that? And why do I care what he thinks of me? Why would I feel any loyalty towards him or that I “owe” him anything at all?

For so long I didn’t want to piss him off because of the court case and even now I’m hesitant to do so because all my furniture is in his house. Here I am feeling sorry for him, but if I walked into his apartment and saw that he is actually cohabiting with his 27 year old girlfriend, I’d stop feeling sorry for him fast. That was the good part about reading his email — it kept me really pissed at him. But I stopped reading his email as of Lent and as much as I am tempted to see what he’s buying and planning and how he’s trying to cheat on the woman he cheated on me with, I will refrain.

It’s beneath me and it hurts me, so I won’t.

It’s interesting to me that I’ve only missed two Sundays at church since November. One for being out of town, and one when I was sick. I look forward to it so much. And now, as I berate myself for being so high strung last week I just turn to God and ask for some relief. Just asking usually distracts me enough and I find myself thinking, ‘for god’s sake, give yourself a break.’

When I stand, sit, and kneel at church and read, sing, and recite I believe what I am saying and it feels real to me. I wanted to believe for so long, but I had been with people who thought it was silly and I’m grateful to have God and my church in my life. Last Saturday I was there from 8am to 11:30am, chopping, cooking, serving, and cleaning up at the Saturday breakfast for the homeless. It is a very surreal experience because the people we see are the ones that are too high or too mentally ill, or both, to go to the Mission and have a warm bed and three square meals a day.

So I looked into the various eyes and toothless faces of 300 very poor or homeless last Saturday and it certainly puts things into perspective. Even though we fill their plates very high, they sneak back in line for seconds and horde stuff and fill their belongings with extra food. Who can blame them.

Some seem grateful, most are just living in hell and are hungry. The woman who runs it asked me if I had a waffle iron and I told her my mother did. She said she wants to make them waffles in the coming weeks. She’s awesome.

Then I saw her in church the next day during the “peace” part and instead of shaking my hand, she hugged me. I felt like I was being appreciated and that I belonged. It felt really good. I’m so glad I had the time to volunteer there and get to know some folks.

There’s another woman who is about my age. She has a partner but he doesn’t go to church, and she has an adult daughter like me. We’ve promised to sit next to one another at the upcoming Cinco de Mayo dinner and I think it’ll be good for me to be sitting down and eating and socializing rather than doing all the cooking and cleaning up.

It’s taken me a while, but I’m finding like minded people. I’m hopeful that things will keep moving along.

I saw an add on Craigslist for a one bedroom, one bath in a really great part of town for only $650. My parents went with me tonight after work to meet the landlord. She immediately told me that she’s probably already rented it. So I just turned and walked out. The place smelled like mildew. Her ad stating “new floors, new windows, and new appliances” must have been written ten years ago. There was nothing new in that place.

So I’ll keep looking. I’ll probably end up in a large complex, and that’s okay too. To be honest I’m fearful about whether I can afford to live on my own.

It is pretty amazing that except for several hundred dollars that I blew when I got the settlement money, I haven’t gone wild buying stuff. I did give quite a bit of it to my daughter and my parents, so I’m worried about how to make the rest of it last.

I got paid today and I haven’t even stopped to look at how much money I got for five days of work. They had to mail me my check because the first one is not direct deposited, so I haven’t even seen it!

I went to the mall for a little bit tonight to try to find an outfit or two. I hate how I’m dressing lately. I seem to be showing cleavage and I really do not like that. I didn’t see anything I liked, however. Because I’ve gained back so much weight.

I’m so tired and looking forward to having NOTHING to do tomorrow. I sure hope I can sleep in just a little! I feel with a little rest I won’t feel quite so down on myself.

As always, thanks for being here.