Running Into The Past

Oddly, Blogs move from present to past as well. The opposite of a story. In the Beginning is at the end. With my daughter's recent visit, I realize how small my universe has become relative to what it was when she was growing up. Hers is a life of promise. Mine seems like a life of closed doors. Singing is now dubious, my audition with the maestro I have given thousands of dollars to has been rejected. The non relationship with my insignificant other, Dr. Lee, has gone south and is dying a belated death. With too little in my brain, I find my self both repetitive and forgetful. Obsessed with worry.

In the beginning

The conversations in my head are so ugly and hurtful. All of a sudden everyone is younger than me, or comfortably retired. I am somehow stuck in the middle. Memories of the quick reorganization that left me jobless in this horrible economy and the rapid decline of fortune - sale of my beloved house, fears of permanent unemployment, poverty, loneliness and worse. I am below flat lined. I want to sleep, but manage only sweat drenched nightmare-filled fits. They are followed by zombie days, unrelieved by exercise.