Sick.....with disappointment

Growing up was difficult psychologically, due to my disassociative parents. My father, a WWII POW and my mother, well, that's a story in and of itself.
At about the age of twenty, I had a minor epiphany when I realized that my parents, like many others, including myself, did the very best that they could, with what they had. My mind was showered with compassion by this simple realization. My view towards people as a whole softened greatly. My home has been an open door to all. I have been aware of the depth of my sensitivity towards those around me. I often grieve because I lack anything of value or virtue that might help or heal the suffering that I see around me.
Slowly, that open door has closed. My compassion, although still present, has turned to sorrow as I feel that those most close to me have been a major disappointment. I have tried to rationalize this feeling. Perhaps I am projecting my view of self upon others. Perhaps I need to let this thought, this feeling arise, pass, and attach no significance to it.
But the truth is, and I do take some responsibility in this, bad behavior tolerated leads to license. My neighbor acted rude, bigoted and unconcerned about how his actions affected others. When I finally spoke to him about his behavior, neighbors became enemies. My older brother and sister acted as little selfish children when my mother died and we have parted ways. I am not angry. I just cannot tolerate their bad behavior any longer.
My oldest son has bi polar and is a heroin addict. I have acted well, both as a parent and as a mental health advocate. Although painful, I have made smart decisions concerning his addiction and mental health. My other son, in some ways, is a greater disappontment. I asked for his help to help retain the elder's apartment and he blew me off. I was left alone.
Left alone, God dammit. It always seems that I am left alone. To carry the burdens. To make the decisions. To have it all together. To be healthy, for those that depend on me. To meditate, because it maintains equanimity, and I must maintain being the cornerstone, the ridgepole that supports all those around me.
The epiphany that once sustained me has withered like an elderly nursemaid. I find no wisdom, no solace, no direction in the eightfold path. Friends have proven to be empty. Family is better left to themselves.
I recall a preacher of old telling of Job's tribulations and that throughout it all he refused to denounce the love of God. It is true that it is easier to hold on to your idealism, your faith, when things are well. When things are desperate and depressing, well...that is where the rubber meets the road.