The blanket of depression is just getting heavier and heavier. @$$#^!&
I dream of a day of having the luxury of being able to travel whenever and wherever I want again.
I dream of having reliable help/assistance when I need it.
I dream of someone willing to occasionally cook, clean, and pick up things at the store.
I dream of not having people around who promise to help and then disappear.
I dream of people saying what they really mean and not what they think I want to hear.
I dream of being around people who truly accept me for who I am.
I dream of having friends who don’t call me only when they need a favor or want to be nosy.
I dream of having people around who truly appreciate the help I provide them when they ask for it.
I’ve heard countless times from people who say I’m one of the strongest people they know. Inside I laugh. They don’t witness the meltdowns. They don’t feel the heartache and frustration. They don’t experience the inner struggles with worthiness. The don’t hear the daily dialogue between my mind and body of chronic ailments.
I look fine so I must be so?
If I had the energy, I’d just punch the next annoying, nosy, fair-weather friend in the face.