INVISIBLE ANNIE.

I'm fading away. I'm becoming invisible. No, not really – I've been invisible all my life. My parents had 2 daughters, me, and then the baby. I was the “spare one” in the middle. Third of four. I knew my place, and it was nowhere. I crept quietly through childhood, trying desperately not to be noticed. At school I aimed at a B pass in my exams – failing would get definitely noticed, a C was a bare pass, worth notice, and an A would embarrass my older sisters – not acceptable. 
When I went to Auckland University, I was one among a thousand accountancy students – nobody would see me in that lot! Except one boy did, and I did the unthinkable – pregnant at 18 would get the neighbours talking, so I was quietly smuggled over to Australia to deliver and give up the baby, then come back as if nothing ever happened. I was forbidden to ever tell anybody, and the topic was never mentioned again. My son is now 30 years old, and only a handful of people on the planet know he exists.
I returned to University, but couldn't handle the stress, and one day I had a blackout, and found myself wandering the streets. I am missing approximately 4 hours of my life, and I have no idea what I did that morning. I dropped out that afternoon, and my parents were so unimpressed I left town, and moved to Wellington. Nobody ever found out it happened.
Public servant accounts clerks are invisible, so I fitted in well. In due course, I met my husband, got married, and eventually had 2 sons, and moved to the provinces.
I have done nothing spectacular in my life, and have pretty much nothing to show for my 49 years on the planet, except 2 sons (and the episode in Australia which never happened.)
Earlier this year, stress started to build up again – an absentee husband on a contract in Australia, living in a new, as yet unfinished house, working in a job I detested, running around after 3 teenager (my 2, and an exchange student). Add in being treated like an invisible doormat, and inevitably the symptoms of a heart attack showed up. I was taken to hospital in an ambulance – twice – only to be told “it's only stress, nothing to worry about, just go home and relax”. Oops, sorry for bothering you Doctor. But the cardiology department decided to put me on heart drugs “just in case”. Beta Blockers can have the side effect of triggering vivid dreams, but nobody warned me I would have no sleep at all for a week, except for psychotic nightmares! 
Then something snapped, and I ended up driving to Wellington and attempting suicide. Oops, sorry, mustn't mention that. Needless to say, I didn't succeed, and came home, to be told off by the Mental Health Crisis team. I flushed the remainder of the Beta Blockers down the loo.
That was in August. I have not seen or heard from anyone in the medical profession since then. I ditched my horrid job after the unmentionable episode, and my husband's contract finished, so he's at home full time now.
Fast forward to December. 
I can't get a job, so I'm at home, all the time. Hubby is still at home, all the time. School has finished so both boys are at home, all the time. Our place is a 90 square metre (read as tiny) open plan cottage (read as everyone is in one room), and it's so claustrophobic, sometimes I just want to scream. I think I'm going to go mad if I don't get out of here. That's OK, cos I'm mad already.
But there's the other problem. Husband's current contract doesn't pay. And I'm not earning. So now we're completely broke. All credit cards and overdrafts are maxed out, the mortgage is maxed out, so we're at the end.

I have no idea what is going to happen now, but I can feel myself slipping back into whatever triggered my breakdown in August.