I’ve heard people say, “It couldn’t get any worse than this.” Don’t be fooled. It can always get worse. My life is proof of that.

When I lost Barry I made sure that I never used that statement, because I knew that it could get worse. I didn’t want a lesson to have to be taught to me by using such words. I figured that I was dealing with enough already.

However, things do get worse and they have. I won’t put the details here, but this weekend has been the pits. I feel so stressed, so angry, so depressed. At this moment in time, I don’t give a toss about anything. I feel totally out of control. I have no idea why the things that are happening around me are actually happening. The thin ice I spoke about once before just cracked wide open. I feel like I’m going to be swallowed. Perhaps it would be better if I was.

Why do I have to endure so much? People think I’m strong, but I’m not. Not right now at least. To top everything off nicely (yes, I’m being sarcastic), our close family unit is falling apart. Our support system is hanging in threads. Who knows what will be left of us in the morning.

If I could only focus long enough to read, I would crawl into a corner and lose myself in a story. Maybe I’d find some peace then. But I can’t focus, especially not now, so what will I do…? Maybe a movie will help. Maybe tonight I’ll take a sleeping tablet and escape that way. Life is cruel and I’m sure glad that I won’t be living for eternity.

I think I’ll go and find somewhere to be alone, and have a cry instead.