I'm sitting lakeside, procrastinating. 

I have a ton of dishes to do, sweeping, laundry to put away, and a mile long grocery list. 

I don't sit here because it's beautiful, or peaceful, or enjoyable. Although, it is sometimes all of those things. I sit here because I can't get out of my own way. I can't get out of my head long enough to accomplish any of it. To get out of this chair. 

For the last month I've hoped that this state of mind has been a phase. And if it is, it's just hanging around longer than usual. 

I spend more time worrying and saddening myself than I do anything else.

Worrying about everything, it seems. If I can think it, I can worry about it. And I think waaaaaay too much, so unfortunately, it provides plenty to worry about. 

I worry about Dawson. He's going into high school. I worry about that so very much. I worry about how he will do academically and socially. I worry about how he will adjust. I worry about driving him every day (there is no bussing to Hermon). I worry about whether or not he will like it there, if he will be happy with his choice of high school. He says he's not playing soccer this year, after playing for the last eight years. I'm afraid he'll regret it once he gets settled in. But I can't make him, it's his choice. 

I worry about him in general. I worry so when he's at his dad's, or anywhere out of my sight, for that matter. 

And I'm so sad that he's growing up. Most of the time, it feels like he is all I have. And as he grows, I'm losing him. 

Norman Bates's mother. Sigh. 

I worry about my daughter. She's struggling with work and college and money and relationships. As we all do or have.

I hardly hear from her or see her. I text her and bug her a lot. If I'm lucky I see her once a week, or most times every other week. Is that how it goes when they leave the nest?

I wish there were more I could do for her (financially). I wish I had made a different life for myself so I could still provide for her, or even for myself and Dawson, more than I do. 

I worry about that a lot. What I'm providing. For myself, for my kids, their future and mine. What I could have provided if my choices in life had been different. If I had gone to college and got a "real job". If I made more money. If I had made different decisions. If I had a dual income. If I had a life partner. 

We have a lot to be thankful for. But when there is no extra money for things other than necessities, it is sad, frustrating, to say the least. 

I'll never own a home that I can pass along to my children. I'll never have a legacy of any kind to leave them. In fact, I I'll probably be a burden to them when I'm older. I worry about that too. 

When I'm older... Where will I be? Will I still be (primarily) alone? Will I live with my elderly mother because I can't care for myself, financially or otherwise? If I even still have her? Will I be one of those sad stories of an old homeless lady? 

I worry that I won't have my wits about me to even know, by then. I've been thinking a lot about that, obsessing, really, and wondering why I have so few memories. None at all from childhood. Christ, I can't even recall what life was like when Logan was little, or even Dawson. I can't pull out a memory of them. The only memories I have are photographs. I can't recall really anything on my own. That doesn't seem normal. It scares the shit out of me. Not to mention, it infuriates me. It's not fair. I want to remember when they were little. I want to remember something. I worry that this is some prelude to dementia/Alzheimer's. 

And what about when I'm not "that old"? Where will I be in a few years, five, ten... 

Again, will I still be alone? Will I still be employed? Will I be able to support myself? Will I have moved in with my mother? Will I hardly see my children? 

Will I still be alone...

And when did I become so codependent? Codependent on my children, on my mother, on a partner... Or have I always been? Will I be no ones  widow?

When did being alone become such a crippling fear?

I have a relationship now. We spend three or so days a week together. I want more. I want a life partner. I want to wake to someone each morning. Will it come to that? It is hard to see. 

I have Dawson a little over half the time, for now (until he gets so bored here with me that he decides his fathers house is more fun.. Another worry. Or until he's grown). 

But those couple/few days each week that I'm alone, have become miserable.  Intolerable. Damn near debilitating. Like today. 

And I wonder.. Is this it? Is this all there is? 

You get a little bit of something, once in a while, temporarily. A little bit of your children, of your relationship, your job, your friends (in my case, hardly any)... And aside from those little bits, there is nothing. Nothing but you and your thoughts and your worries. 

And a void.