Sitrep- FUBAR

I had forgotten my motto, to fly low, under the radar. I foolishly attempted to try to lead a normal life. But I cannot do that, can I? I cannot exist in this world as the average citizen. That has been robbed from me. I cannot have normal interactions with people. I have been given one option only. Be alone. Be reclusive. Do not under any circumstances put yourself out there. Trust no one, outside of a very tight circle of family and friends. So I withdraw, again, Reminded of how tenuous my existence is and how so simply it would be for me to be banished back into hell. Hell has a certain reputation. It is valid. True. Nonexistence is better than hell. I have come a long way, I have learned to accept powerlessness. Loss of control. But it is a bitter pill and the memory will never cease to dredge up remnants of its taste on my tongue.
I have my children. I spend time with and am involved with them. Thank God. Thank God. I live in a nice home, nice neighborhood. Be grateful. Be thankful. Don't expect much more, be happy with what I have.
Me, a nonconformist, has been beaten into conforming. Lay down my sword and shield. Roll over. Yet my spirit still tries to burn hot and bright. It screams to me from within and I fight it, battle it down. I cannot, I tell it. I simply cannot. So externally I acquiesce, while internally the spirit shrieks to break free of the bondage imposed upon it. Why? Ha! Never will get that answer. Waste of time asking.
Job front is bleak. A couple of weeks ago it seemed to be turning. I was going on interviews, daily ads to answer. But it stopped. I have never seen it so bleak. There is nothing. My UI benefits are continued. No desperation yet. I continue to work at it daily. But who wants me? Would I hire me? Sadly..no, I would not.
College has been good thus far. First two classes are fairly easy. I don't feel challenged yet. Next block of classes things get more interesting. Meantime, I'll work hard and earn good grades. Why not? Government wants to hand me thousands of dollars in grant money to do this, who am I to say no? The least they could do. The very least.
Turn 43 in one week. Look at me. Ruined. A shell of who/what I was. Pathetic.