I READ THE NEWS TODAY, OH BOY . . .

And I didn't see anything changing.

I picked up a copy of the Herald-Leader after I got my hair cut this morning = that always makes me feel "put together" = one of the little tricks I have to make my life somewhat "normal".

I know "normal" is in the mind of the beholder but from the time I was born until now, I now believe my life was cursed from the day I was born. I don't know who put the curse on me, but it sticks to me like glue.

I don't say these following details for sympathy or empathy, just stating facts, but this has been the path of my life since May 2014 =

When I lived in Georgia, working for IBM, I had a few friends, actually two friends, I could tell anything to. They were my anchors. I felt I belonged somewhere, they both treated me with respect, were always honest with me and didn't expect anything from me except hard work and honest friendship = those two things I delivered.

Last May 6, one week before my 69th birthday, I was diagnosed with MS. I sent my friend Margaret a Facebook message and got no response. I waited a week for a response when I messaged one of her FB Friends to see if anything was wrong = there was. Margaret had died the morning that I called.

I felt like I was drowning. I fell into a deep, dark hole of depression. Never to hear her voice again, never to tell her my innermost thoughts.

In October 2014, I lost the sight in my left eye = surgery saved the eye but could not restore the sight.

Again, I fell into this deep, dark hole = actually, I was not all the way out of it before that October day.

When I was very young, I was sexually abused, verbally abused, emotionally abused and left by myself to cope. My mother's boy friend had done his damage to me and my sister, but I somehow survived, got married, got a good job, but there was something going on in my head all those years I couldn't put my finger on. At age 50, I was divorced, on my own and finally diagnosed with a slew of mental illnesses. I had been fighting "something" for all those years, but they finally had a name.

The curse was still active.

A lifelong battle to survive was always the uppermost thought in my mind. But, just when I thought I was settled down to meet my old age head on, another blow struck me upside the head = besides the MS, Margaret's death, losing the sight in one eye and the slew of mental illnesses, I was struck down in June of 2015 with a mysterious illness that played havoc with my immune system. Already taking meds for pre-diabetic sugar levels and slightly elevated cholesterol levels, I was told by the doctor she didn't know where I had picked up the virus, but it could have taken my life if I had not seen her when I did. I took the meds she prescribed over a 2-week period and I'm still fighting the lasting effects of the virus, which hopefully will go away in about another month, but has left ugly permanent scars on both my arms, both my hands, both my feet and both my legs. She knew it was some kind of parasitic virus, but she couldn't tell me where it came from. My paranoia grew.

Again, I fell into the rabbit hole.

Am still in it.

Went to the dentist to get the first fitting for my upper denture, but because the meds for my mental illnesses had caused most of my upper teeth to break off, an infection had run rampant in my mouth, my sinuses, my head and my eyes for quite a while = I think that in itself answered a lot of my health questions, but I wasn't sure. The dentist placed me on heavy doses of meds to clear up the infection so I could get my upper denture and I did that, am doing it now, but have lost my motivation to take any of my meds and move forward. Each day since then, it is hard to put one foot in front of the other = oh, I'm not tired, actually the meds for the pre-diabetic sugar level I believe has given me extra energy, energy I can't seem to utilize because of this dark cloud over my head, this curse I have endured all of my 70 years on this earth.

I don't think anyone = not even all the psychologists and psychiatrists I've seen over the years could convince otherwise.

I am different. I feel like the Devil is working inside my mind. I struggle to exist every day, but somehow manage to get through each day, knowing I have to take care of my babies = Boo, Darby, Toot, Emma, Pete, Penny, Linus, Lucy and Charlie Brown.

The daily routine I'm on carries me automatically through my chores and errands, but my mind is telling me to run, run as fast as I can, take my babies and hide somewhere from the world until I can't run anymore.

I took out a substantial life insurance policy to take care of my babies after I'm gone and I know a suicidal death would not pay off the insurance, but I have a plan. If all my babies pass away before I do, I have a plan.

But, God keeps getting in the way. My spiritual beliefs came to me late in life = sometimes they have been shaky, depending on what is going on in the world, but eventually come back = that has become the anchor that keeps me from taking my own life, because if I did, I don't think I would stand before God when I die, I think I would go the other way = join the Devil that has been in my head for the past 70 years.

The curse worked. I fell down the rabbit hole and I've never completely been able to crawl out of it.

I have another anchor, the third person who joined me and Margaret as friends, she is there in Georgia to listen to me, to cry with me, to laugh with me. She said she didn't want "to lose me". That's odd, because that's the same thing I said to Margaret a few months before she died.

I am thankful for what I have, but the Devil lurks in the background, waiting for me to fall. I do what I have to do and that is just "go on". But there is no motivation, no happiness in "going forward". but God continues to guide me each day and I hope he can be my anchor until I meet him face to face.

I READ THE NEWS TODAY, OH BOY . . .