It's been a long 15 years since I had to put my riding hard hat away, my chaps, breeches and boots.  I was planning a great retirement for myself, in the process of buying a farm and planning on doing horse rescue.  The barn was new, the pasture newly fenced in.  The house was in shambles, but heck, I had planned on living in the barn.  Had selected my stock trailer and truck to pull it.  Then off I went to see a horse broker to buy my very first horse.  Smiling as I stood looking at the beautiful magnificant horse that I was writing a check for when all of a sudden the world spun around and around and I ended up in the straw of that stall.  Well, the dizziness never left me and I could not get back to the barn, so the broker was nice enough to tear up my check.  I spent 30 days in bed, too dizzy to stand, before I finally started the process finding out what was wrong with me. I lost the farm, the horse, the stock trailer and truck and my wonderful dream. 

Here I sit in a horrible senior home, riding my recliner while I look out at the world passing me by some 15 years later.  I have lived in three senior homes over the years and it's been the worst experience I have every had.  I have come to believe that senior living is not all it's advertised for.  It's full of rampant bullies or sororities, I call them.  Gossip enough to cause one to want to die from the made up stories told about the weakest and most vulnerable.  No one cares, not one person in management ever stepped forward to stop this nonesense. 

I feel trapped, captive, hostage to this type of living.  I have no way out.  I have been thru soo many "so-called friends" who suddenly cast me aside and trampled all over me leaving me smashed and useless.  Well, their shelf life is up, as far as I am concerned.  So, I sit here today, behind closed blinds, still rocking in my recliner.

Used to have a productive life, a career, savings, health, friends, circle of faith, family, reason to live.  I gardened, painted and drew, as much time as I could at the ocean eating Lobster, traveled by train everywhere and spent every minute I could in a stable with horses. Happiness was hugging a horse. Horses are my passion in life or were, now I admire them from afar.  But it's all gone now, nothing left but an old tumble weed of myself.  I can't believe I am 68 years old, with nothing in my life to show for the wonderful life I used to have.  Just a few old pieces of furniture and that's it.  Oh and $5.00 in savings too.   

Over the last 15 years, had to go thru breast cancel alone, several other surgeries, illnesses, death of close friends and family and all by myself, totally alone. Laying on that radiation table was one of the scariest moments, or so I thought.  Living in senior housing far exceeds any fear I ever had, it's Hitchcocksonian.  I could say that my childhood abuse and learning to survive alone is what is keeping me alive today, but at what expense and I have no hope for the rest of my life,no hope for the future.  I am exposed and vulnerable.  So, I hide for my life now, slinking out late at night to take out my trash, get my mail and slinking back inside behind closed curtains.  

I started several weeks ago back to therapy to see if I can scratch out a life worth living or to find hope .... somewhere.  I'm old and who really cares and I can't for the life of me understand why I go back to this therapist.  I sit here now wondering that myself, what's the point in it anymore, I'm just old, a tumble weed version of what I once used to be, now broken, frail, old joints, etc., you get the picture, no longer resilient with a purpose to live.  I'm used up, dried up and old, just an old tumble weed version of what I used to be. 

Well, that's my story, thank you for joining me here today.