This morning I woke up at 5.30am in tears. Pretty usual. My brain sometimes just do whatever it wants to – remembering my history, remembering my presence, thinking about everything I have lost in the last 2.5 years. I can’t forget that my ex-husband walked out on me and moved back to NZ. He wasn’t rich. Left me broke. I was working in the same company – seven years. I was on a good salary. I was kissed by my work manager after my ex left – did I tell you about that? I remember it. I can’t forget it. It cost me my job. Left me broke. I had my brain surgery 15 months ago, followed by a stroke. Yes, I’m sure you know this. Left me broke. I ended up on DSP. I now live alone and in depression.
Google “rich old man” and see what it will show you. So many rich old men who will find young – young – women and live with them and play with them. Depression? Only me. I would live with a rich old man. I don’t care if he finds other women for sex, as long as he takes care of me. “They” seem to take care of people like Ruby Sommers.
For the first 5 years living in Australia was a dream. My second ex had moved me over here – his choice. We bought a house, I loved painting it, fixing it, changing it, spending my income from work on it. I had told him before we bought it that I wouldn’t feel safe in “our” home, because I’d already lost two homes in NZ, the fault of my first ex. My second ex seemed very confident, but this turned into the third house. We lost it because of my second ex. I should’ve known that it would have happened. Was I stupid getting married second time? Yes, I now know that I was. Losing that house caused us to break up, but not my choice. I will not blame myself. I will not blame myself for how I live now.
I would live with a rich old man. I would go travelling with him. My second ex and I bought an APVC and had holidays 2-3 times every year. We’d been to Melbourne, Gold Coast, Hunter Valley. I’d been to Gold Coast, Hunter Valley and Coffs Harbour on my own. Not chosen, but ex used to come up with a reason not to come. We’d go to Sydney for his holiday. We’d go to SA to buy his car. We’d go to Melbourne to buy his truck. My very few vehicles only bought in Brissie. I never complained to him about his spending. I’d never complain to a rich old man as long as he spent his money on me.
I’ve never been anywhere else in the whole world except for NZ. Australia and NZ. Now I can’t go even out of Brisbane. I live alone and in depression. I’d planned on going to Penang and visit my sister, but I can’t afford it now. I’d have loved to go to Europe, to England, to anywhere where it is warm. But I can’t afford it now. My life now is the future of my recovery from my brain aneurysm surgery and stroke. Funny that I’d lost my 7-year job within 2 months of CT’d for my aneurysm. They gave a very different unreal reason. I ended up on DSP after my surgery. Not my choice, I had no choice.
Am I too old to live with an old rich man? If he’s 70-80, that’s okay. I think he’d probably die before me, but that’s okay. I’d just love him to take me out to meals at lovely restaurants, buy me wine, buy me clothes, update my computer, provide me with a new car. Keep me warm! When he dies he just needs to leave me with a very decent income for the rest of my life, and he can do whatever he likes with the rest of his assets. If I was still working – at the company I’d been employed with for 7 years, on my very decent salary – I would be debt free, afford holidays, afford my car. I was kissed by my work manager – did I tell you about that? He’s still employed there.
In 2007 Charmaine Drugan, a Ten Newsroom woman jumped to her death. She had depression and was on drugs which influenced suicide thoughts. In that same year Jessica Rowe from Channel 9 suffered post-natal depression. Her husband, Peter Overton, said: “That time was very, very challenging, seeing someone you love so dearly.” Jessica Rowe is very, very lucky to have a loving husband who would stay with her through her illness. Mine left. My manager left. I don’t know any other men. Perhaps that is the basis of my depression.
ReachOut depression website said: “The official use of the word depression, which is often diagnosed as 'major depressive disorder', is used if these feelings persist for longer than two weeks and start to get in the way of your everyday life”, yet “depression is a condition that can only be diagnosed by a health professional.”I went to a psychologist recently, so I’m pretty sure they know what upsets me – or sends me down. I’d been to psychologists off and on in the last few years – so I know what unsettled me and sent me down. I was feeling pretty happy that I was living okay with it. Until 2.5 years ago. It has returned for me throughout the last 2.5 years, no break, getting worse. And only DSP, not enough income.
I believe that writing about anything in my blog, even about my depression, helps me in my mind. Will it also help my brain? Will anyone turn up in my life to encourage me to get “better”? I would have lived with a rich old man.
Sad I live alone.
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