Why I Felt a Little Blue

    Recently I went to sleep feeling sorry for myself.  What was the trigger?  For one, my mother well meaning, said that, "your father thought getting married would solve all your problems."  She meant well I know.  
     My marriage ended and I lost my home and the children were living with my ex-husband in Colorado.  I was out there on my own and Dad with his companion (Mom and Dad were divorced by then) came out to get me.  I was having a severe nervous break down having driven all the way to Colorado with my older son to rejoin my younger son and his father, but their father was already living with his present wife and I was allowed to crash on their couch for one night only, her rules.  Imagine you are a woman and your kids are living with their father and he is your ex and is sleeping with his girlfriend while you are pitifully crashing on their couch for the night.  Pathetic.  You see, even then because I have RP, I was not allowed to drive at night, because retinitis pigmentosa causes night blind and gradually worsens over time.  It was nightfall when Teddy and I arrived in Breckenridge. We had stopped by 8:00PM every night since it was summer, but the sun was sinking and the car was failing from the altitude.  I was crying sitting in the drivers seat when Ron came to greet Teddy at the passenger door.  Truthfully, to my knowledge I had no agenda of trying to be with Ron, my ex, in fact I thought I was heart broken about someone I had broken up with.  Now I am all mixed up about it, wondering was I really hoping to put my family back together deep down?  All I know is I was homeless, temporarily jobless and had enough on my mind to sink a battleship.
     I went to stay with a friend in Boulder who was this really happy all the time kind of guy and was irritated by my 'going through stuff.' We road bikes to the health food store where we purchased me some rescue remedy.  I had worked at a health food store back home and was familiar and in fact hoping to work at that very health food store since that was sort of my field then.  
     We bought groceries and I cooked a vegetarian burrito meal for everyone.  We went to a sufi dance that was very enjoyable.  I always enjoy the whirling dervish type things.  Guess I am just that 'airy fairy' type.  But, Paul, my host did not have as much time for me as I hoped after that, and I ended up hanging out with the nice old man who owned the house, wrote for the theosophical society and left banana and orange peals on the stairs, but he was pretty cool.  We listened to old blues records together on a turntable.  I sat looking at space while my only companion was Marianne Williamson's book Return to Love.  I wanted to go to Pearl Street and look for a bar or some fun, but I could not move, as if I were frozen, and then again I could not drive at night.  I only slept for short intervals, and then would get up and make myself herbal teas.  I had no meds, had never been diagnosed with anything what so ever in terms of mental problems and I was thirty-four going on thirty-five, and they would have shown up by then.  That is why I always say if you have a life like mine and keep it together til you are in your thirties, you are most definitely sane and need no labels, as no one does really, but it helps for some who have illnesses like schizophrenia because meds make a world of difference having someone close to me who has the disease.
     Well, I cannot tell you everything, because it is quite frankly a little too personal to even blog about, but in the end Dad came to my rescue, with his companion because he was totally blind and little did I know that he would die only two years later.  
     Once the crisis had passed and we were staying at a lodge in Boulder, I said, "you guys just go home.  I am fine now.  I'll just stay here.  I have my car at Paul's.  He can bring it in the morning."  They would not hear of it.  Paul did bring it in the morning and apologized to me while we were getting bagels and coffee to go that Dad had given me ten dollars for, for not realizing how bad a state I had actually been in.
     Dad thought he seemed glad to get rid of me once we dropped him off back at his house, but that was Dad for you, and probably right as usual.
     I got to spend time with my children before we went back.  They came to the lodge and my father, his friend and I took them out to lunch and shopping on Pearl Street, and I was able to see them and spend time with them before I returned to South Carolina to get a place and my old job back and 'get my life together.'  Then we reunited later.
     We went back to South Carolina in my car, and Dad was not in good health but a good sport all the way.