It isn’t hypothetical fun

It’s interesting, or something, how we all read things differently. Today’s prompt from the Daily Post was no doubt intended as something light-hearted. It’s baseball for heaven’s sake. I’m glad Ben explained what the term meant. I’m not baseball averse; I’m just sports ambivalent at best. “The World Series starts tonight! In your own life, what would be the equivalent of a walk-off home run? (For the baseball-averse, that’s a last-minute, back-against-the-wall play that guarantees a dramatic victory.)”

I wish my back-against-the-wall, last-minute play will guarantee victory, of any ilk. Frankly, I’m sick of drama. Give me my victory soft, understated and lasting.

This isn’t fiction for me. This is true life. I hesitated to write what I’m going to write because it may offend or upset. But I started this blog to be a place where I can say whatever I want, where I can voice my truth in such a way that it is impossible to in the “real world.”

In a few weeks I am going to load my 17-year old cat and her belongings and my clothes and computer and anything else I can fit into a Mustang. I am going to New Hampshire in search of a job. Everything else I own is going to stay in Kentucky, in storage (free thanks to the kindness of my landlord). A nice man that I only know through Facebook has kindly offered me the use of a spare room in his basement while I try to find work. I know no one there. The last time I was in New England I was in grade school. The economy in that area seems strong-ish, when compared to other places.

I have only a few hundred dollars to my name. I have no credit. My unemployment runs out in December. There are zero jobs in SE Kentucky.

This is truly a last-minute, last-hope, dire Hail Mary Pass. (Yes, I’m mixing sports metaphors.)

There is no wonderful guarantee. Several years ago when I was in Cincinnati, when I was a few years younger and my knees were better, I could not find a job for months and months. I ended up taking A job, which was a nightmarish situation. So I don’t hold out a lot of hope that I’m going to quickly find a job in New Hampshire or Vermont (or even Maine).

If I can’t find work, what then? I know my generous host is not willing to keep me forever.

My luck and life situation has gone from horrible to worse in the last five-plus years. People have stopped saying, “It’s bound to get better soon” because it is painfully obvious that isn’t what has been happening. There’s no life rule that says “it gets better.” All you have to do is look around the world to know that is just a big fallacy. It is wishful thinking, magical thinking, not fact. I have written that I have clinical depression. Well…duh. I’d be crazy not to be depressed. Depression is soul pain. Deep, abiding soul pain. I’m at my last thread here. I can’t imagine it getting worse. Actually, in some ways I can. That’s why if this last-ditch effort doesn’t work, suicide is a very viable option because I just can’t take any more. Anyone wanting to hear what I sound like totally pissed off can judge that statement. Until you walk in someone else’s shoes…