Some nights I'll toss and turn, in a seemingly endless worry marathon, wondering why me? Why all the things that "happen to me" happen to me.
Everything that can go wrong with a house already has. As low as I secured the interest rate on my home loan, you'd think I could relax. But no, between the property taxes and the insurance my mortgage payments keep going up. When I begin to barely get by, along comes some other problem . There's simply no way to get a break, it seems.
Yet somehow we get by. Insurmountable obstacles are overcome, and we look at them bemusedly in retrospect. As if through one of nature's tricks they've become smaller now that they've been bested. But every foe looks unbeatable when you're weary and sick of the constant struggle. It would be so easy to give in and give up on the dream.
The driving force behind it all is...I'm not sure. I've forgotten. Perhaps the underlying hope of a more restful or wealthier future. I don't know...I do know I can't figure out how to put anything away for tomorrow. My retirement looks to be an unattainable goal. I'm so preoccupied with the present that the future is no longer a consideration. And this incessant whining keeps going on in my head. Even though I don't want to be the victim, and though rationally I know I'm not, at times I can't help but feel like one. Just a victim of misfortune.
I know I'm luckier than most. I've a healthy and loving family, where others don't. But I'm also well aware of so many others who strike oil at every turn.

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