I feel depressed. (Read or don't at your own risk - this is pure journaling today)
Most of the people that I thought were important in my past life have complained that they don't understand me. They have reminded me often of my ability to make poor decisions based on something that they didn't like - usually when I was not willing to take responsibility for their crappie unhappiness.
I have some good friends now that are wonderfully supportive. I probably don't talk to them enough. I learned pretty early on that I have to be independent. People, even parents and siblings, cannot be trusted. Husbands and lovers reel you in like a fish chasing a worm on a hook, they baited me with talk of support, understanding, kindness and help and they lie and then wanted me dead. And strangers on the street will steal you blind, lock you in rooms or garages and leave you to clean up the mess. Because of this I have to do a lot alone. And let me assure you that these events occured a very long time ago. They are the history that helped form the decisions that I make.
I am a problem solver.
I am a survivor.
I am creative.
I am kind.
I aim to be patient, understanding and to not hurt others. I work hard to be honest and realistic. I think long and hard before making decisions. And I only believe maybe less than half of what people say, watching instead their actions and for their character.
I have been on my own since I was 17. Moving to a small apartment and working a menial job. Dreaming of a comfortable life that would provide me the safety that would allow me to be able to travel and dance and sing and make creative stuff. Unfortunately the same day I moved I was given a curse of sorts by being disowned. My struggles with homelessness began.
With no one to turn to. No one to ask advice. I struggled with perhaps my first severe depression. I lost my job shortly after that because I refused to lie for the owners son. I didn't have enough money for the rent so I moved out. I spent my first night sleeping on a bench in the city park. It was not illegal then.
That was 40 years ago, give or take.
I haven't lived in any one place longer than 3 years since.
Now my story is not unusual - many people have been alone or on their own and moving around.
I don't want to live in a van any more.
My daily life is not very much fun.
I'm looking out of the window - rain and more rain...my Scamp is in pieces with work tools all around and yet there is so little progress. I have had to live each day like this since I made the decision to buy the Scamp. I have invested $500 in tools and people and supplies. I was not wanting this life - the one I am living today. I wonder if I have made a huge mistake - and the memories of being blamed for mistakes that I had no control over swell up in my mind. I question my thought process and my needs and everything ..I want to just cry - but I will only have red eyes afterwards.
Perhaps I should just take my Scamp to a shop that knows fiberglass and just make payments to get it fixed. I just can't live this way. And I have to move on September 7 because I cannot afford to pay the kind of monthly rent that RV parks charge these days.