Whining email to Jolie

Many, many thoughts rolling around in my head. I'm coming to terms with some things, and that kind of transition is never easy.

• I will never feel better. This is as good as it's going to get emotionally and physically. This is a disappointing substitution for wellness.
  
• I am apparently incapable of experiencing happiness (although I still can appreciate some humor).
  
• I struggle to be who I need to be.
  
• I lead a painfully boring life, but I have neither the energy nor the means to change it.
  
• My best work is behind me.
  
• My best ideas have already come and gone.
  
• My best days have passed.
  
• I've done whatever it is I was going to do
  
• My sense of compassion is shrinking a little more each day. It was my last redeeming personal trait.
  
• I rarely do anything right or as well as it should be done.
  
• I don't have much to offer anymore--I think I passed my "use by" date.

So, what I have left is the hard work of maintaining the appearance of worth. I have to work to pay off my debts and that means being cordial or possibly even pleasant toward people I can't stand. I need to sort through the physical clutter in my world so I can put my past away for good. Photos, boxes of papers, cards, notes, junk and all of the other things taking up space in my world need to be managed. I should really sell my bikes. Frank has waited long enough for me to come to terms with that part of my life.

My disengagement and need to clean up are the same at work as at home.

Sometimes I imagine leaving--just leaving--but not starting over. Not starting something new. It's more like wanting to downsize. Just me, bare necessities, living someplace isolated and needing only enough money to keep the car running and to have some food in the very small house. (I would call it a cottage, but that sounds pretentious.) Nobody would be able to find me or contact me. I think this is what my life needs to be.

If I can live in a situation where I have no expectations and no one has any expectations of me, that would be ideal (unless it's prison).