I hesitate to put this under the crisis section, since I've tried so hard to think of a painless way, and at 50 yrs old, I should have found one by now if one existed. I'm too cowardly to do anything painful. BUT, if I COULD think of a way, I'd have already done it. I've been in 4 abusive relationships. Not physically abusive, but emotionally VERY much abusive. But I survived and left each one with the help of my parents. I've been involved in 2 bankruptcies, one because of an ex-husband, and one because I lost much of the income I'd had, and couldn't pay my bills any more. Once again, save by my father, who I moved in with since I couldn't pay rent. I no longer own a credit card, and won't go there again. My mother passed away from a long illness, and I cared for her for a few years past the point where she could care for herself at all any more. My father and I had decided she shouldn't be kept going any longer. The steroids keeping her alive and breathing were ruining her organs, and they were talking about having to amputate her feet. She would run over her feet with her wheel chair without even knowing it, and they were all purple and black. We couldn't bare to see her go through any more pain, and we had a DNR drawn up. I took a break one day to go to the store, and came home to find an ambulance in the driveway. Even if you have a DNR, if you call 911, they do everything they can to keep the patient alive. My father knew she wouldn't last if he didn't call. I asked why he did, and he cried and said he couldn't NOT call. He just couldn't do it. He asked me to not leave again until it was over, because he just couldn't deal with it. I'd had depression and panic attacks since my early 20s, mainly because of the way men had treated me. My mother, in my opinion, was the only person on earth I felt close to. Now I had to sit with her and care for her until she died, which would only be a few more weeks. My aunt, who had worked with dying people in hospital or hospice, told me that my mother was probably hanging on for so long because she knew I would be devastated without her. I was told I needed to tell her that it was ok to go, that I didn't want her to suffer anymore, and I'd be ok knowing she was out of pain. Even though she wasn't speaking anymore, she sometimes made eye contact, and I knew she was aware of things going on around her. I sat down with her and basically lied through my teeth saying that I'd be ok, and she needed to quit hanging on and move on into peace. She was gone a day later, just before her birthday in 1997. Mother had passed from an autoimmune disease called polymyositis, the immune system attacks the muscles, and steroids are all that gave her strength to breathe when it got the worst. I never recovered from that. Afterward, my Dad became the only person on earth I trusted. He helped me out whenever my relationships fell apart. He made sure I always had a car, and a place to stay if needed. The last time I moved in with him was the end of a relationship AND my last bankruptcy. I filed because even though I wasn't paying rent, my Dad had an autoimmune disease, and my bills would not allow me to pay rent if and when he passed away. I told the lawyers this, and they didn't bother to mention to me that any inheritance within 6 months would be taken by the court. Please understand, I wasn't being selfish when I prayed he made it longer than 6 months, because I had no place to go if he died AND I lost the money he left me as well. He did live long enough, just barely. His bone marrow stopped making red blood cells, myelodysplastic syndrome. He had to have blood transfusions, and you can only go through those for so long before they stop working. I helped him out around the house as much as possible. My two older brothers did whatever I couldn't. One morning I found him on the floor. He didn't know how many days he had been there (I'm pretty sure it was only a few hours), but he thought it had been days. My SIL showed up right then, and helped me get him up and dressed, as he asked. Then I called his doctor, who griped me out and said I shouldn't have moved him. This may seem obvious, but it didn't occur to me at the time. We called 911 then, and he went to the hospital. Then we found out that the doctors had been telling him for months that he should be in some sort of assisted living, and he was just fighting with all his might to stay in his home as long as possible. Just months before that, I met a very nice man, and we had a really good relationship. I'd known him for 9 months when all this happened. My brothers both sat me down and told me he would either have to go to a nursing home or live with my older brother. Dad had told me many times he did NOT want to live there, he'd rather die than live there. I argued, but they refused to let me keep him at his own house and care for him. They got power of attorney, and he moved in with my brother. I was blessed to have met my current boyfriend, he moved me in with him right away, no questions asked. He has been my angel through all this. My brothers got a new doctor for my Dad, and he surprised everyone by living about a year longer. Although I've had a great relationship with my boyfriend and things are really good, I have felt this whole time like things should have gone differently. Like we should have dated longer and moved together or gotten married by choice, not because of circumstances. Before Dad got too bad, I knew I was going to take it hard when he was gone. I spent lots of time crying, and felt empty inside, different from anything before. I went to a psychiatrist who put me on an anti-psychotic. I went a bit nuts on this stuff, don't recall the name of it, and don't want to right now. I would call the doc's office and tell the nurse that the pills were making things worse. She kept telling me I needed to let it build up in my system, and up my dose. I really BECAME psychotic while taking it. Finally I quit taking it, and got better, but not better than I had been before that. I went to a therapist, and she was SO expensive. I don't have insurance. I went to a less expensive one, and she was young and just starting out. She tried to tell me I needed to learn deep breathing and relaxation techniques. Keep in mind, I am 50, and have been going through panic attacks and depression most of those years, so I've tried these techniques and more. I am over-weight, which is a large part of my problem with depression now, I was thin when I started having trouble, the weight just makes it worse. She had me stand up and told me to take a deep breath, and make sure my stomach expanded. Then she watched me and said I must not be doing it right, because she couldn't see my stomach expand. My stomach is covered my a large layer of fat, so of course she couldn't see it! At least she was nice and friendly, but I didn't feel that she had enough experience. So I went back to the first therapist. She must have been upset that I had gone someplace else, even though I explained I couldn't afford her. But she started telling me that I needed to allow myself to grieve and allow myself to cry! I went because I've been crying SO much and couldn't stop, why tell me to cry more. I told her I must not be understanding what she was asking me to do or how it would help to cry more, and she told me I was being lazy, and to come back when I had decided that I wanted to do the necessary work! I went to another psychiatrist, and now I am taking mertazapine and xanax, both of which cause weight gain. I am 5'3", and I was weighing around 160. Now I am at 208, and the scales won't budge. I do admit that I live a sedentary life, but this empty feeling inside does make me lazy to the point where I don't want to do the work needed to lose SO much weight. And trying to wean off the meds just leaves my crying again. Now, even WITH the meds, I'm starting to cry again. I would probably just lay around and cry and not care if I could afford my own place to live, but instead I am living with my boyfriend, been here for a year now, and his teenage daughter and two kids in college that are in and out all the time. I just don't want to cry all the time around them. I have a daughter/son living in Minnesota. She decided she didn't want to be a she and is taking testosterone, but isn't anatomically a male... So anyway, he lost his job, and so now I've been supporting him, and pretty much all the money I got after Dad passed away is now gone, and will be completely gone after I pay taxes. I am a subcontractor, so I get no benefits, and if I take time off I get no money. My bf works for an airlines and gets free flights, so we went to the Outer Banks in NC. Immediately upon descent of our flight my right eye started tearing uncontrollably and I could not stop sneezing. I ended up spending $200 to get a steroid shot for my sinuses when we got to the island. And just before we left, I had to get a new prescription for my glasses, so another $200, and this is with me taking a week off. Here it is almost Christmas, and although my son got a part time job, it pays very little, and I most likely won't be able to pay his 2 bills (car insurance and cell phone), much less get him a present. He has more problems than I do, so not being able to help him hurts. So basically, I no longer enjoy any of the things that used to bring me joy, I cry quite a lot, and the rest of the time I just stare at the wall. This isn't fair to my bf or his family, although they are very understanding about it and they have learned I won't always go with them to events, and they never complain about it. I still feel like I'm not much of an asset to the family. I hide most of it, they really don't know how bad I feel, but they can't not know I'm pretty miserable. And Christmas is the worst for me. My parents made it the best day of the year, and we even had Christmas lights up all year where I grew up. We had some property with a large picnic area surrounded by outdoor Christmas lights, and we used them all winter. We had a Christmas tree in the front yard growing with outdoor lights on it too. I had a lovely childhood, but you can never go home again. OK, so I don't trust or even like doctors and feel I've been ignored or berated my them, and at this point I can't even afford to go to the doctor to get my blood pressure medicine. Part of me hopes that cuts things shorter, life expectancy and all. My son just called and related how he had an awful Thanksgiving because his car battery died and he spent the entire day dealing with that, and never got to go eat turkey. All I could say was that I totally could relate, and he said he knew I would understand, and that's why he was talking to me about it. I am not looking for sympathy. I'm wanting to be able to talk to someone who can relate, and who won't charge me hundreds of dollars to talk, or tell me how I am lazy just because I want to stop crying. Gotta go to the store now, so I guess I will sign off for now. Thanks for at least letting me vent, and any and all helpful suggestions are VERY welcome.