I know things are going to get better here. They have to. But, somehow, I needed to write because I can't feel a good way inside me. I want to, and I try to. I want to smile and feel ecstatic.

Instead, my mind is swinging from very low to very high in matter of minutes. I have a sarcastic attitude about so much, and a great sense of responsiblity for others--and all of it is encased in a lady that wants to cry one second and laugh the next. It sure would be nice if I could just be content with what I have.

And I have to write. There is no other outlet. I have to put in words the thoughts that fly through my brain, or at least a few of those thoughts. Not all of them. I can't possibly get them all into the confined space here.

And I want to do something to get rid of all the negative and bring in only hope. I need hope so badly. I know there may be a chemical imbalance that causes these horrible feelings, and I know I probably need professional help--but it's not available with my life.

But it will happen. It has to happen. I want things to fall my way. To line up in a perfect line and get me to Point B. I don't know if I've even gotten to Point A, though.

There's a song that says when you hit rock bottom, the only way is up--or sideways. I've been going sideways too long. Now I have to find a foothold and move up. I just have to find that foothold and pull myself up. Now.

Something happened today. I don't know if it's good or bad. The county finally started a contempt action against my ex for child support. It took long enough!

I know some men out there try their very hardest, and they love their kids, and they would do anything in the world for their kids--even pay child support--if they could. Child support can be a very high cost, and some absent parents can't really make it. And when they can't pay support, to me, that's understandable. You can't get blood from a stone.

But there are others out there that can pay child support. They just don't want to. They don't want to try. When I have an exhusband that's been driving truck for almost thirty years, has almost 4 million miles under his belt, a good driving record, and is the best mechanic I know, there's no reason that he only makes $27,000 a year. And, in the last eight months, child support has been pretty much non-existent. The judge declared that he's deliberately not earning what he can, and he ruled that about three years ago, and now he's not even trying as much as he was then. It's very frustrating. But, you know, he's able to buy a fairly new vehicle, pay for an above-ground swimming pool, buy beef by the complete animal (a full side of beef and a side of pork, together, for instance)--and he can buy anything they need at any time at his house. I know he's doctoring his books and his employer helps him, but there's nothing I can do to prove it--and, even if I could, the county doesn't care. In any case, it's almost three months since I've seen any child support at all--and it's been a struggle.

Anyway, that happened--and I got in touch with an old friend. And she seems to be going through much of the same thing I am. We're going to get together tomorrow night and commisserate together. I don't remember the last time I met a friend to just gab with. I'm really looking forward to it.

I visited the cat. He's looking pretty much his usual self--except for the catheter. He eating like a horse, and he's really pushing around his strength--and he's a very strong cat! They're going to leave the catheter in until Saturday, then try to take it out and see if he goes on us his own by Sunday. They also found out that one of the medicines he started yesterday takes 2-3 days to work, and because it didn't seem to be helping yesterday, they were ready to put him to sleep! I don't know how much I like this vet, but we're all learning, I suppose.

It's a better day. Not much has changed about my circumstances, but at least I didn't just sit back and say, "bring it on!"

I don't know what it will be, but something has to change. Nothing good happens here. It's one negative thing after another, and I can't figure out why.

Tonight my son is probably more depressed than me. He expressed himself by saying that just for one day he'd like everything to go right. This week he bowled badly, his car--which he just paid $140 to fix last week--broke down again, we lost our insurance because we can't pay it, our cat is dying, his cousin is not only calling him for help--but he's calling from my son's ex girlfriend's house. He has a fever, and we can't afford his adderall for his ADD. He's just feeling bad.

And I don't feel any better. Our household has to turn arounda nd feel better about everything. Everything seems to be scattered, nothing together, and we can't seem to do anything the way it issupposedto be done. And nothing happens the way it is supposed to happen.

We, ourselves, have to be generating this because there's no way that life can be this bad all the time. It has to be our attitudes or our ideas, our behaviors...or something we just don't understand.

I'll figure it out. Just not tonight.

I feel like I've lost all rights to my own emotions. My brain is fried. I can't think. My mind keeps wandering back to Stinker and how he may die--and I want to cry. But I talk to others, most of whom symptathize, but some who seem to think that cats have no place on earth. So, instead of defending my love for cats, I laugh with them. I can't even claim my own love for animals.

And I am scared to death that I can't pay some bills. They just keep piling up. I can't get rid of them, and I can't seem to get more money to pay them. And I don't know what I'll do to catch up. I'm scared, and I'm worried, and I feel as if no one cares or even really wants to care.

I worry when I work that I'm not doing enough, that I'm not holding up my part of the bargain. And then I'll get fired, I worry, and will have even less money. But I don't tell anyone that I'm worried. I just keep going and pretending like I know what I'm doing.

And tonight, not only is my mind jumbled, but when I talk, the words are ocming out wrong. They're mixing up the syllables. Like "overreacting" is coming out "reoveracting". And "J.R. Trutwin" is comng out "junior ocean". It's all wrong, and it just keeps getting worse.

I am going to go to bed, and pray. Pray hard. Silently, so my words don't get messed up. Or the prayer.

I am worried. One of my cats is sick, very sick. He had a blocked bladder and has been in the pet hospital for two days. The doctor has unblocked him, but he won't urinate on his own yet--and the doctor is afriad the nerves tot he bladder have stopped working, so Stinker won't be able to regain control of his bladder. She has to express the urine for Stinker, and she says even she has difficulty with him--she can't train us because he is so difficult. So, we're giving it until tomorrow and then we don't know what will happen.

Stinker isn't really my cat. We've been babysitting him for a year because a friend had to go into treatment last October, and she's still there. We can't call her because she can only call to people--and only if she earns the privilege to do so. So all we can do is write to her, and then we don't know when the letter will get to her. So, we've got a huge vet bill for an animal that isn't even ours...and we don't know if he'll make it through this or not.

He looks so sad in there. He's a big cat, and he is long hair. They've given him a bath twice today, and he still looks like he was run over. He did perk up when we visited him, but he's on valium so he didn't really jump up and down with excitement. He won't ever drink from a dish--it has to be water from a running faucet, so we always leave the water trickling in the tub--and they are concerned he refused to drink. He'd rather die of thirst than drink from a bowl. That just won't happen. But he is eating. And he's creating urine; he just won't urinate by himself. And that can be a life threatening thing.

The vet is going to let him go another night and see how he does. But after that, we don't know. I really hope we don't have to put him to sleep. If he came home without being able to urinate, though, he would surely die. And it would be a horribly painful death. So I pray that he will feel better soon.