I am at a point lately where all I want to do is take off. I don’t know where I just want to leave. I don’t have any fight left in me. I had a dream the other night that I died. There was no one to carry my casket. I was just left in a field. This bothers me.
The stress of dealing with my father’s illness and my own is becoming too much. I can tell by the way he talks that he wants to give up. He’s all I have and I love him more than anything. He isn’t the father I’ve always known anymore. They put him on Prednisone and he seems to be worse. He angers easily or just sits in his chair staring at the TV. He does things he isn’t suppose to be doing. He carried 6 fifty pound bags of grain down to the backyard. With his fistula he shouldn’t be doing it. I can’t stop him he only gets angry.
I’m going into depressive mode. I can feel it coming. I start thinking about the past and all the mistakes I’ve made, the people I’ve hurt. I think of what could’ve been. I always thought I would get married and have children. That ship has now sailed along with most of my dreams. I think of the men I have loved who didn’t love me. I constantly ask myself why I wasn’t good enough. It gets harder each day to smile and pretend everything is ok. It isn’t. No one returns my phone calls anymore. I can’t blame them. I’m either talking too much and annoying or quiet and depressed. I can’t win.