I spend most of this Sabbath with my father and step-mother out in the boondocks where they live. [Although I should note that much of their boondocks has been developed of late, filled with restaurants and superstores.] My father harangued me about who I had working for me to get a job and how many resumes were out there...which I found quite draining. But my step-mother had some more fruits from her yard to share (extra plants), had bought some suet for my bird feeder, gave me a Sudoku puzzle book, and made me a hose for my shop-vac as insurance against future flooding. Yep, she made me one, slicing off a piece of a long hose she had and popped on a new end. I didn't even know that was possible. It was as if she were giving me some "pick-me-ups" to stave off the sadness of another jobless week looming before me.

My grandfather marinated and cooked steaks to perfection, and my step-mother whipped up the most tasty of twice-baked potatoes, so dinner was quite satisfying.

Between my writings student's family and my step-mother, I was occupied on something else besides my sadness and worries. For this, I am truly grateful.

Yet...I am struggling because I feel so alone. All last week stretched out before me, mocking me. I wished for and wanted my friends to rally around and call me and check in and buffer me with stories and such. I wished my brother and sister would have called to see how I was doing. I wished to be needed somehow, in some way, to dispel the feelings of failure, of worthlessness. I didn't want to be an afterthought. I wanted to be planned for, important, loved.

I think I am plastered to the couch because I have been working 75-80 hour weeks. I think I am bone weary and heart sore and troubled by the fact that all that work amounted to so very little in the end, despite the caliber of what I accomplished... I think I need the time and space that this unemployment has afforded me.

Yet...I am struggling because I feel so alone...and this next week is looming large.