I'm so tired. May I talk?

[Sunriser13]

I'm tired.
I'm fed up.
The 'catch-22' of life gets ever more sure.

Yes. The plague may color my mood, but is not the reason for it. It's just more background noise.

I feel selfish when so many others have it so much worse than I do. I am grateful things aren't worse. I look and try to figure out how one becomes such a victim in her own mind, and know somehow it must be my own damn fault. But this is mine, for what it's worth.

Only child of only children - no living family, my mom died suddenly when I was 18, father might as well have, too. He left with his parents after the service. It was my first time ever being truly alone. Five months later, he remarried to a gold-digger who was horrified to not even find a copper under the sofa cushion - although she managed to get the mobile home and everything in it when they split up after less than 6 months - all there was left of a child's memories, and all the cherished belongings, including my mother's and mine. Grow up, kid. Life will now have its way with you.

Skipping past the too many years of meeting brick walls, being pushed off cliffs, poverty, homelessness, undeserved violence - but a life always, ultimately, lived alone. It's the shell that forms when one has finally gotten it through one's thick head that reaching out in trust for help does nothing but get one hurt - physically, emotionally, mentally, financially. Giving in trust is even worse.

Later in life, I found my soulmate. We were as happy as we could be with each other. We were different than others, but it was us, insular but together. I've been a widow for 9 years now. While I know he didn't mean to, he left me, too.

So, alone again, and still. Hibernation and isolation are good. Except when they aren't.

So this is hard. Really hard. I don't know if I can do it.

Pah! Had a bunch of details here, but erased them. They don't matter unless someone needs to know. Just a bunch of self-pitying life story bullshit.

I have RA, hypertension, reactive asthma and mild COPD. All established and diagnosed, and mostly untreated. But over the last year, I've had developing heart trouble including chest pains and breathlessness, and a developing neuropathy that affects both feeling and mobility (don't know the cause, unless RA progression).

No insurance, no Medicaid in this state, ACA no help (don't make enough), not healthy enough to work anymore, can't afford to get care to get healthy enough to work. Can't get disability, too young for Medicare, yadda, yadda, yadda...

I am here because I am going to die. Yeah, yeah, born to die, I know. But I know Covid-19 will kill me when I get it. Period. And except for leaving my three spoiled four-footed feline overlords, I'm not sure how I feel about that.

But I also don't know what to say. Write, erase. Write, erase. Write for an hour, on a groove, read it, snort in disgust, and erase, again. How do you get it out when you can't get it out? When you're convinced that revealing need in any meaningful way will just get you hurt again?

Sigh. God, this is so negative. I'm not even sure what I hope to accomplish by posting this incomplete screed.

I'm not going to erase it this time.