Have finally got the LPA forms signed so just need to find a cheque book and get the darned things sent off.
Looking to the future - I'm not seeing a happy picture. My dear old OH & I made huge efforts to pay off the mortgage and set up ISAs etc whilst we were still working.
We have no kids or family to consider - it's just the two of us against the world. All this paying it off and squirreling away was with the intention of having a happy sunny funny time, like in those sickeningly, smiley, old age adverts, but hey-ho, Mr Alzheimer's came to stay and laughs in our faces.
We're not minted but have enough to live comfortably within our means - because we made the effort to do so. My PWD put his life in the firing line in defence of the country and now the country seems to have him in the firing line again, disarmed, unarmed and alarmed. Now all I foresee is everything we worked for disappearing, being taken away, wrapped up in red tape and delivered to some faceless 'they' who determine our plans weren't worth it. Perhaps we should have blown the lot on foreign holidays, fast cars, booze'n'drugs'n'rock roll - then wasted the rest and relied on the state to provide for our needs.
I'm trying to make sense of the unknown and feeling very down about it all at the moment. I'm not used to the lack of control.
Despite lifelong depression and anxiety my entire working life involved understanding what was what, what was urgent, where the hundreds of thousands (frequently half-millions) of pounds were going, being - amongst other things - a systems analyst understanding people's needs and wishes and balancing those needs and wishes against the practicalities, legalities, and finances, making all safe and secure, writing the contracts, getting it done, being the mover and shaker. The organiser. The putter right of thing and maker-better of wrongs. The 'go to' person. You want a conference organised in two days for 125 people with security, seating, audio-visual, name badges, conference packs and catering - no problem! Living on the edge and getting the adrenalin buzz.
The unused adrenalin's still there and bubbles under the surface and comes out as anger and passive-aggressive behaviour. The buzz has died, as surely as the lost bees of summer. I'm now just the 'lady that does'. I'm a shadow, a wraith of the laundry and kitchen. The wine bottle seems a good bit of respite. Not good. (The wine's good but the idea is a bit dodgy.)
I'm lost, lost, lost. And drowning in nothingness. I know I/we need some help but don't know what help or whether it's the right sort of help for me or us.
I'm not even sure why I'm writing this. All I know is - right now I could dig a hole in the floor, pull the carpet over my head and stay there.
Sorry guys and gals. I'll stop whinging now. All will be well in the morning.
Looking to the future - I'm not seeing a happy picture. My dear old OH & I made huge efforts to pay off the mortgage and set up ISAs etc whilst we were still working.
We have no kids or family to consider - it's just the two of us against the world. All this paying it off and squirreling away was with the intention of having a happy sunny funny time, like in those sickeningly, smiley, old age adverts, but hey-ho, Mr Alzheimer's came to stay and laughs in our faces.
We're not minted but have enough to live comfortably within our means - because we made the effort to do so. My PWD put his life in the firing line in defence of the country and now the country seems to have him in the firing line again, disarmed, unarmed and alarmed. Now all I foresee is everything we worked for disappearing, being taken away, wrapped up in red tape and delivered to some faceless 'they' who determine our plans weren't worth it. Perhaps we should have blown the lot on foreign holidays, fast cars, booze'n'drugs'n'rock roll - then wasted the rest and relied on the state to provide for our needs.
I'm trying to make sense of the unknown and feeling very down about it all at the moment. I'm not used to the lack of control.
Despite lifelong depression and anxiety my entire working life involved understanding what was what, what was urgent, where the hundreds of thousands (frequently half-millions) of pounds were going, being - amongst other things - a systems analyst understanding people's needs and wishes and balancing those needs and wishes against the practicalities, legalities, and finances, making all safe and secure, writing the contracts, getting it done, being the mover and shaker. The organiser. The putter right of thing and maker-better of wrongs. The 'go to' person. You want a conference organised in two days for 125 people with security, seating, audio-visual, name badges, conference packs and catering - no problem! Living on the edge and getting the adrenalin buzz.
The unused adrenalin's still there and bubbles under the surface and comes out as anger and passive-aggressive behaviour. The buzz has died, as surely as the lost bees of summer. I'm now just the 'lady that does'. I'm a shadow, a wraith of the laundry and kitchen. The wine bottle seems a good bit of respite. Not good. (The wine's good but the idea is a bit dodgy.)
I'm lost, lost, lost. And drowning in nothingness. I know I/we need some help but don't know what help or whether it's the right sort of help for me or us.
I'm not even sure why I'm writing this. All I know is - right now I could dig a hole in the floor, pull the carpet over my head and stay there.
Sorry guys and gals. I'll stop whinging now. All will be well in the morning.