I’m 63, I live alone, never been married, had children. I was my mother’s carer for a (dreadful) period, resulting in a nervous breakdown about 20 years ago. I tried to rebuild my life, and largely succeeded, only for it all to go pear-shaped again in my 50’s when I was made redundant from a good job, and was unable to get another. I was in horrendous debt (okay partly my fault but there were reasons) stressed out of my brain, and was eventually signed off long-term with depression.
I’m now on a fairly low pension. The car is gone, can’t afford to run one. I therefore have no social cultural or intellectual life. I have very bad GAD, I also have COPD but can’t stop smoking cos I’m so stressed/depressed. I also have quite bad arthritis (I’m seeing my dr this week to ask for a referral to a physiotherapist).
My two sisters aren’t very supportive. They help a bit, but basically see my situation as my “fault” in some way – my impression, that is. For instance, they tell me about wonderful lunches they and my one brother in law have had in lovely country pubs, but never invite me. The most I’ve ever been offered is lunch at the garden centre 5 mins drive away. I would give my soul for a drive in the country, and – it’s not about money, I’d settle for a cheese and pickle sandwich in a pleasant country pub – but am not offered it. Even my “best friend” – who always says I’m her “best mate” – I hardly ever see her, and when I do, she just comes down to me for a coffee. The other month, she let it out that she and her (newish) husband had had “a few friends round for a BBQ” for the Jubilee weekend celebrations – but I wasn’t invited.
I watch TV morning noon and night. I can’t do the things I love, because of no money/transport. I planned to buy the social housing property I took over from my mother, but couldn’t when I was made redundant.
I have nothing to live for. I’m not suicidal – partly because I couldn’t do that to family/friends, partly because I don’t think I’ve got the energy. But I don’t know how I’m going to get through what’s left of my life. It’s more like a living death.
Don’t expect any answers. I’ve given up believing there are any.