Vitriol Espresso "I come in peace. I didn't bring artillery. But I'm pleading with you, with tears in my eyes: If you fuck with me, I'll kill you all." General James Mattis

Listening to Santana while I try to figure out what to say here for some kind of update. Not that it's written for anybody but me, it's good to stop and think about something other than impending doom. Klonadin is my savior, make no mistake. I think I found Jesus in the bottle, as a matter of fact. Like Xanax without the hangover the next day, it helps me sleep when anxiety rears it's ugly head again.

I have a lot to be anxious about, I guess. I'm getting old in seclusion when that was never the plan. Car come, car go, etc. I really did get $500 in cash from my brother who for the first time in our lives actually stooped to help me out of a hole. It's getting harder and harder to find that silver lining I used to look for all the time, harder to see the good in things and instead wallow in pity and self doubt. Without one thing other things will not happen and so on and so on. It's hard to know where to start and where to end up.

Once again I am trying to figure out what to do with the remainder of my life. Believe it or not all I ever really wanted to be was a good housewife. That's it. I don't demand sex or even closeness, my anxieties and self-hatred keep that from happening much of the time anyway. But taking care of my own home and someone to keep me company is pretty much it for me. Somehow that doesn't look as if it's going to happen and the anxiety from just this thought is enough to make my heart race and tears to spring out to mess up my glasses. My biggest fear is being alone and I've been alone for so long it's wearing down my psyche. I don't want to die alone.

Ah hell, as if it matters. Something needs to change in a drastic way or I'm going to spiral into a really bad place. Suggestions on how to do this are appreciated.