Sometimes it seems one is making headway, and fortune smiles once more. One can almost believe that the Universe has turned a favourable eye in one’s direction, and one can almost hope that perhaps happily ever after is a possible ending. I dared to believe.
It was just another dangerous fallacy.
And yet without hope that things will work out, what reason is there to keep trying? I have to act as if I believe, even when I don’t, for otherwise what is the point?
I fly to Australia next Saturday to start my new life. That has to be viewed as a positive: I have a job to go to, somewhere to live, and a future in which I can exercise the skills and abilities that define my professional identity. I have done my best for my offspring, and it is time for them to make their own way. My responsibility is just me now. I can only take the advice of Polonius;
This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
The little money I have salvaged out of this fiasco through which I have been going, has been further eroded, first by the IRD who want a significant chunk of it, and secondly by the exchange rate, which has dropped to its lowest in recent history.
No point railing against it. It is what it is. The culmination of deeds, events and circumstances. No more, no less. How much easier it would be if some capricious god could take the blame.