2019.... Happy New Year, I guess

as I slowly walk in to 2019, I wonder to myself - what's the point?

it's not like it's going to be any better than 2018, except that I don't have pets to take away any more.

I'm still going to live in an apartment below a cunt who won't turn her TV down, no matter how many times the building asks her to.  And they won't do anything about it.
I'm still going to be disabled.
I'm still going to be a caregiver to someone who doesn't appreciate it.
I'm still not going to be able to afford anything, because prices go up but my income doesn't.
I'm still going to be thousands of KM away from some family and friends.
I'm still going to have a son who's in pain 24/7, and has a rotten claim adjuster/administrator.
I'm still going to have to deal with the sudden loss of my father, which has kicked my ass.

I've been so positive for so long, and everything is still shit.

yes, I have a roof over my head and food on the table, so I know it could be worse. I get it.

and yet.... I still wonder.... what's the point of it all?  why am I not allowed to be happy for more than a short time?  why is it that every time I think things are looking up, I get a huge FUCK YOU from ..... the universe, I guess. (There clearly is no god, because my prayers have never been granted)

Last year, I was so optimistic and felt 2018 was going to be great! 

HA. Look how that worked out for me - a hysterectomy that left me in agony for 24 hours IN THE HOSPITAL because the doctor thought I was a drug addict and refused adequate meds, both of my cats have died, my father died and therefore any chance of moving out of Manitoba for a long time, my father's wife's family deliberately tried to erase me from his life by having not one mention of me at his celebration of life, I've got a cunt living above me who makes as much noise as she possibly can because she knows about my ear condition, my ear condition is getting worse, and to top it all off I had to use my skin removal surgery money for vet bills.  The only good thing that happened to me personally is that I lost weight, and while that's a great feeling, it doesn't make up for all the bad.

I've asked this many times before, and I always get "things will get better" or something like that. 

The issue is, it DOESN'T get better.  I get a short window, and then all hell breaks loose. 
moved away from my family, had a job to come to that ended up being shit, they just dumped my ass because they fucked up projected numbers.
 Got a new job, (whew) Lived in a gorgeous house that wasn't too horribly expensive, until the recession happened and I had to sell it because my income didn't cover it.  moved into a smaller place, and my cat got sick from it (and they refuse to acknowledge that.).  ended up on disability, had to declare bankruptcy because of it.  Then, just starting to think about saving for a house - hubby had a stroke, and I had to emergency move to an apartment that was over 50% more than the last place, which was ok for a bit, until thumpy mcbitch moved in.  now, I'm stuck here because I have shit credit and can't afford to move, because this place is expensive, but so is every other decent place in the city.

yeah, I'm just whining and complaining here, but this is my blog and no one reads it anyway.

I'm tired. 

speaking of tired. I'm tired of always being the one to "try". the one who always reaches out to people.  I wonder how long it would take people to notice they hadn't heard from me.  Weeks? Months? would they even notice?
no one ever asks me how I'm doing.  Not one person from R's family has ever asked me that. Hell, even my sister hasn't really asked me, without me asking her first. 

 it hurts.  

it's like I'm disposable and dispensable, and easily replaced. at least, until someone needs something from me.

maybe I should say fuck it all, run away, and just rot in a small apartment alone.
no one would notice anyway, I don't think. except for maybe my husband and son, and husband only because I live with him and do all the cooking.

no, I'm not going to off myself. I think I'm a masochist, because I keep thinking it'll get better and I look forward to the next day, to see what's going to happen.

yes, I'm going to therapy.

let's hope that 2019 is better than 2018. (I won't say it couldn't be worse, because I know that would mean something bad happening to my husband or son. )