When my sister died, I wished it was my cousin instead. He was misbehaving and just an all out nuisance, pest, waste of space. While my sister, well… She was my sister.
That was many years ago. My cousin has caused so much family drama etc. Too much to get into. I had chalked that thought up to grief, and I guess I really didn’t want anyone to die.
With all the pedophiles, rapist, murders, sadists etc. roaming the earth. I will never come to grips while the innocent and good seem to die so young and so easily.
I don’t blame God. I have long considered Earth, this world as it stands, to be the real hell. Some days just living is torture. And I wonder why I continue to do so, way too often.
My mother and her love keep me here. I’ve said that to my therapist one time too many. She understands that once she’s gone. I’m gone.
I know my life will be lonelier than it is now. I search so hard for a purpose to breath, and I still can’t find one.
Spent half my existence just trying to taste ‘stability’ again, and it keeps running me by. Twenty plus years of meds, therapy, inpatient stays.
Now I approach if I’m not in menopause and children are and impossible. Sitting here with one beat up ovary and non-viable eggs. Not much of a woman, never the chance to reproduce and nurture.
Can’t even have a dog in my apartment. NO PETS. What shall we do with our time?
My brother may be dying. I always go to the worst case scenario, force of habit. Trying to change that aspect of thought.
Doc added an additional low grade anxiety pill. To be honest, I’m in a nice buzz thru the day. But no anxiety. I’m fine with that, I think I would have done something stupid or eaten half of North America by now if not for the little greenish pill.
Things are changing.