I found this old, dusty pack of Tarot Cards today that made me think it was A sign.  
Time for another
Personal reading.  

The cards say they were made in Switzerland, but they're written in French with dainty photos of colorful French (or Swiss?) metaphysical past times. They were distributed by:

U.S. GAMES SYSTEMS, Inc.
468 Park Ave South
New York, N.Y. 10016
Copyright 1970.
(Wow!  45 years ago!)

I focused and shuffled the cards. 
My first inquiry was the outcome of Moving back to Seattle,
And, according to the Swiss Gypsy
Who only wrote in French,
My ultimate outcome if I moved back To the Emerald City
Was the card:

L'Amoureux,
Aka The Lovers.  

****.

I then asked another inquiry about my Outcome if I stay in California,
And my ultimate outcome was the card:

La Roue de Fortune
Aka The Wheel of Fortune.

Cha-Ching!

But, wait.
So, basically it all comes down to my choosing between....
Love
OR
Riches....?

THAT'S ******!!!

It wasn't even good anymore
It was just a
HABIT
To fill the empty
VOID.

A glue that I mistakingly
thought would
hold all of my
BROKEN
pieces together.

This pain inside of me is
DEEP
and
UNRELENTING
Burning with endless
REGRET.

This is what I feel
24
hours
a
day.

Everything is an
ACT.
Every positive thought
I must
PUSH
through my brain
as if
lifting
a
HOUSE.

This has been my struggle
All day long,
EVERYDAY
for
21 years.

Fighting and slaying and eventually saying
"I give!  I give!"
to my
RELENTLESS
Dragons.

By nightfall I am
EXHAUSTED.
Dreading the continuous
BATTLE
of tomorrow, the next day, the next, the next....

It's an endless merry-go-round of
GROUNDHOG DAY.
The same battle
The same
DEFEAT
most everyday.

How to escape?

The therapist told me (21 years ago)
She saw women's lives
RUINED
and
LOST
and turned
UPSIDE DOWN
and
INSIDE OUT
over the endless years they've been
SURVIVING
this
DISORDER.

And I thought mine was just a phase.....

We equate Success with  the positive
when in reality
Success can also be a negative,
like Cancer.

In this instance,
you are Yearning for its failure
Praying for its failure
Desperate for its failure!

For if that pesky little cell decides
to invade
and begin the
Dance of Death called
Metastasis,

Success is in its favor.

It's that hour again,
guilt sets in
because I am
awake.

Insomnia seems to be my only ally
lately,
comforting me with her consistency
like an old lover.

I feel safe here in my lonely cocoon,
here in my head
here in my heart,
again.

This unexpected world is
of my own making,
that's a hard pill to
swallow.

Spent from wrestling demons
and
waiting for a silver lining,
endless hope
dying.

If someone knows the code
or can cut my cord,
would you please indulge me
kindly?