Going To Hell In A Handbasket

Yup, that's me. Might as well make it complete and kill somebody. I can think of several good candidates....

Waiting on Joseph to do Taekwondo, so I don't have to make two trips over here.....
List of reasons to be thankful: My kids, my grandkids, I have a home, I have enough food and clothing, I have a working vehicle, I have air-conditioning.
Reasons to be angry/bitter/something other than thankful: My husband left me, my son is in jail, my daughter is estranged from me for who knows how long, ...
I hate the whole world. Screw everybody who has a real life. I hate them.
Ok - angry wins. My head and chest hurt all the time. Why the hell am I not dead?

I never told anyone about this dream. Who could I tell? It was before my husband left, during the bitter autumn when our marriage was dying, and I was desperately clinging to it. In my dream, he walked through a door into a room, coming towards me, and a smile lit up my face (as usual, whenever I saw him). But he didn't return the smile. And as I realized that he didn't love me anymore, I fell; slowly, backwards. And he let me fall. I woke up sobbing. I think there have only been two other similar dreams, since then, that left me crying aloud as I awoke - and I am so thankful that there were no children with me at any of those times to witness my anguish. It was difficult enough for them, without adding my distress to their pain.
I still dream about him. In my dreams we are together - sometimes, never having parted; sometimes, together again after our separation. But together. Life feels real again. I'm not alone anymore. I have someone to share everything with. But inevitably, I wake up. And it's all gone again. I remember my aunt relating a dream that she frequently had after her husband died of cancer. She dreamed that he was alive - it was all a mistake, he wasn't dead after all! It was so real, and she was so happy - overjoyed that she hadn't lost him. And then, she woke up. What agonizing pain, in that waking realization - it was only a dream. In real life, he was gone. I sometimes wonder, which is more difficult? Death, or divorce? At least my aunt can remember my uncle with love and honor - she can cherish each memory of him. But me? Every memory of my past life is now tarnished. His memory is bitter. Pictures of family, for more than twenty-five years, are tainted with sorrow and bitterness, because of him. What do I do with those memories, those pictures, those old home movies, that should be precious? They should bring joy, but now the joy is mingled with pain. It's like looking back at a past life. Not mine anymore.
Sometimes, I really don't think I'm going to make it through this.....