I drive a 2001 Mustang. Every year for the past fifteen years I get to play the same game when it comes time for the yearly car inspection, for you see, the car has a bad sensor on the catalytic converter which makes the “check engine” light come on and stay on. You can’t pass an inspection with that light on. The game I get to play is going to the mechanics, they turn off the light, then I have to drive about one hundred miles to reset the car’s computer, return to the shop for the actual inspection, and where I pray that this year it is still the sensor and not the actual catalytic converter. With an eighteen-year old car eventually it could be the converter and that is well over $1000 to repair. Also involved in this “game” is that you never know when the light will click back on, and it could be while driving around and before the inspection. It is an exciting time, with exciting meaning nerve wracking.
Yesterday I played the game. At least it is a pretty drive, no matter which direction I point the car for the hundred-mile round trip. The good news is that the catalytic converter is still good and the car passed the emissions test. The bad news, because of course there has to be bad news in my life, is that all the brakes on my car are shot and the car will not pass the safety portion of the test. The worse news is the estimate starts at $700 and goes up depending on how bad the various components of the various braking systems are. $700 might as well be $7million. I have no idea how I’m going to get the car fixed.
The mechanic’s description of just how bad the brakes are makes me nervous just to drive the car without it being fixed, let alone driving illegally.
I’m losing everything in my life, and all I can do is just sit here and cry.
To add to the feeling of loss is that my best, and really only, friend’s life is drastically changing. His professional life has changed, and he’s in a relatively new relationship. The amount of time he has for me has of course changed with all of that. Even with me understanding his changes doesn’t make them less painful, or that they couldn’t come at a worse time for me. He lives in Canada, so we don’t see each other often, but we used to communicate daily. He was supposed to visit this week but had to cancel the trip because of an emergency health situation with his pet.
I’m sitting in an apartment that I’m going to lose, sometime. I’m surrounded by packing boxes. Every month it is a game to see whether I move because I got into subsidized housing or move because now I’m just homeless.
My knees are shot, and my elbow is still recovering from the severe break and its functionality is only a fraction of what it used to be. My personal mobility is lost.
Everything is loss. Right now, I’m not doing so hot with that. I’d tell my therapist but she’s leaving, too. I don’t know who my new therapist will be yet. Ironic, no?
Featured images are original Second Life photographs with no post-production. They were taken on a piece of land I designed and developed, and which due to financial hardship, I had to lose. I thought them fitting for this post.