Hey, Ladies! Help is trickling into my life like a slow Chinese water torture. I had hooked up with a psychiatrist in January, and last week I finally got to see a psychologist for psychotherapy as well. They are both great women, gentle and caring. The psych thinks she can hook me up with a social worker so that we can maybe expedite some benefits... so that I don't have to live in this crappy situation forever.

Meanwhile, the roller coaster continues at home. Money troubles all over the place, and short tempers, including mine. But our neighbors downstairs, my friends, generously helped me by sharing a word processing program when my computer died, and now I will be able to get back on my feet as far as writing is concerned. That's a relief!

But creepily... I can't cry on Celexa. My cat died a horrible, lingering death, and I need to cry for her, but I can't. I can cry a little bit, sometimes, but normal grief is just beyond my reach. That cat was my soul mate... I had to give her away because the landlord was going to throw us out for having animals... I gave her away to someone who loved her very much, but then she encountered a dog... the person tried to nurse her back to health, but poor Precious died a day or so later. My friend buried her in the yard next to some flowers... I hope that my poor little one is with me in spirit. I love her and I miss her terribly. I can feel blue about it, but I can't weep for her. It feels strange.

I suppose it's OK because I'm fragile right now, and I don't need any more pain... but somehow it doesn't feel right not to mourn for such a dear, sweet friend. Such a beautiful little soul.

Well, that's me in a nutshell, at least as much of me as will fit in a nutshell.

Love,
Lil