Nan with therapist; . Dreamers, 1899. John Brown.)

What poor therapist would want to get stuck with an 81 year old woman with degenerative arthritis, in slight cognitive decline trailing a Ph.D. in clinical psychology behind her?  (That’s my inner response to my suggestion I see a therapist).  As messed up as I am, I wouldn’t want to do that to anybody.

I’m lonely but don’t like to be around people, one child has disowned me, another avoids me, and I am responsible for bringing to life a Down Syndrome child.  I have sold two houses impulsively–losing considerable money–am avoiding 5 women who are desperately lonely and I can’t crank myself up to make a contribution to my fellow man/woman.  Not quite agoraphobic, I inch away on my walker, also avoiding my dirty dishes.  On top of that, my heart has turned to stone.  This is my truth; please don’t argue with me.