Tristesse

Too much sadness. I can't remember ever being so down. I couldn't handle watching United 93, or any of the anniversary coverage of 9/11. Morgan has a friend who she is supposed to go to Disneyland with. The friend's little brother has Hunter's Syndrome. Well, the boy might get to spend time with Pooh Bear when they're down at Disneyland, as a gift from the Make-a-Wish Foundation. If Morgan is "approved" to go, as their cousin, she's still going. If not, then she'll go next time. That's not what I find so sad, what's sad is the little boy, who was going to Disneyland, anyway; compared to some of the people's big dreams and wishes, and compared to some of the people who take advantage of the program, it just strikes me as so sad that all this little boy wants is for Pooh to go on some rides with him. But that's not what I am so down about, either, it just exacerbates things.

I'm mostly down about me, the things I have neglected to do, the fact that I am worth more to my kids dead than alive, the fact that it takes so long, and is so damned difficult to get caught up, financially speaking. I am almost there, but I am so ****ing sick of being poor and struggling and doing everything myself. And I disgust myself for feeling sorry for myself, but maybe in a few weeks and a fewer thousand dollars, I'll feel better and more optimistic.

And I miss my Mom.

And I am angry at a couple of people, and at alcohol.

And all these things, the stress and regrets and pain build upon one another and completely take me over.

And sadness makes me lose hope.

And so does the money stuff.

And hopelessness and depression completely exacerbate my anxiety disorder.

And I am just plain tired. Frustrated, poor, sad, embarrassed, and tired.