The last six months or so, I have to say that life has not been good.
There are lots of words to describe it — ennui, apathy, depression, burn out, accidie … take your pick.
My first impulse is to blame it on my age. You know, menopause and all that. But I don’t think that’s it. Even though on the surface I can’t get my life started, underneath, I feel as if there are ideas and goals that I could aim for, if I could only get to them. And if I only wanted to.
It’s too bad, really, because Tom’s been so amazingly awesome lately. I feel bad that I have no energy to give him.
The bottom line is, I don’t care. I have to remind myself that I need a job to pay the bills. I would give so much to have enough money to pay off the past due stuff and have enough to live simply on. I hate myself, I hate my job, I hate my life.
The people I made the mistake of thinking of as friends online ignore me. It drives me mad. If it’s because I’m vocally Christian and politically conservative, I’m sorry. That’s me. I don’t turn my back on you because we don’t agree. Why don’t I get the same courtesy?
Tom and my belief that self-destruction is against being a Christian are the only two reasons I’m still around. And 2015’s not looking any better.