Starting over.....Again!

I can't believe I am having to start over from square on again. I am 40 years old. I'm tired. If I didn't have two beautiful girls depending on me, I would give up. I did everything right this time, right? Who am I kidding? I think there is something fundamentally fucked up in me that just will not allow me to succeed in this game of life. I am not a bad person. Stupid maybe, but not bad.

This time was supposed to be different. Three years ago, I moved back to my home town with a shiny new college degree, a job waiting for me, my family actually happy I was home. I had everything I was always told I needed for success. I found a beautiful apartment for me and my girls, 7 and 13 at the time. My dad kept telling me I needed to find something cheaper, it was too much money! I didn't listen. I got a brand new car - 2018 Nissan Sentra. I didn't really have a whole lot of options, my parents had a family friend who owned a car dealership and they got a great deal. I wasn't complaining.

Then I started my first real job courtesy of my college degree. Starting pay was 45,000 a year! For an recovering addict who had only worked as a bartender or waitress before now, this was huge! We were gonna be rich! I was gonna be able to do all kinds of stuff with my girls like theme parks, concerts, fishing, and beach trips. Whatever we wanted, we were free.

It didn't take long for reality to set in. I quickly found out how much having benefits from my job would take from my check, nearly one third. My apartment plus my car and other bills....I barely made enough to cover it all. This was the first time in my life I did not have food stamps and medicaid. I finally understood why everyone was always talking about how hard it is for single mothers. I was making all this money, but could barely put food on the table for my girls, much less all of the other things we had planned. My parents were helping out, but they shouldn't have. It was just putting me in debt for later.

I was barely getting by, but i was making it. But I was lonely. There was a hole in me. I had just left a loveless 8 year marriage. I was slowly trying to figure out who I was again. I had let myself go. I was miserable with my husband. I quit putting on makeup. I didn't care about me at all. Now that I was single again, I had to clean myself up. I used to be beautiful. I had to learn how to dress myself all over again. I was struggling terribly with identity. I had accomplished so much, it meant nothing to me if I could not show it off to the people who could see just how far I'd come. The people I used to party with.

I had kept in touch with one person over the years. Dean. Once upon a time, Dean was the man. He distributed massive amounts of drugs. He was fun, and scary, and dangerous. All the things someone young and dumb, as I was back in the day, was looking for. I knew nothing good would come of me calling Dean. But my depression was getting worse. That whole in me was getting bigger. So, I called...