Tomorrow is my birthday.  I don’t really care.  (Or do I?)

I’m back in bed.  I worked on my manuscript this morning for close to two hours.  I have a hard time getting started on it.  Then I have a harder time stopping and getting it out of my mind.

I’m depressed.  I’ve got roughly two hours left to myself before school gets out and there are things I should do but I’m lacking motivation.  I’m tired.  But I need groceries and don’t have any way of paying for it.  There’s nothing to have for dinner tonight and nothing to put in D’s lunch tomorrow.  I feel destitute and demolished.  Demoralized, in despair.  And tomorrow is my birthday.  I feel like I’m in the middle of a nightmare and I can’t wake up.

This is not a good way to live.  This just all feels so unfair, and how can I fix this?  I suspect that whenever I feel like this – has it always been about money?  As in, the lack thereof?  No money and no hope of ever getting any, or having enough.  This has been a life-long quandary and a misery to me.  It boggles my brain, it baffles me.  It is excruciatingly painful and frightening and miserable.  And I continue to not understand it – which makes it feel even more hopeless and myself helpless.

What is this illusive answer?  The standard answers don’t help.  Logic tells me that I don’t have enough money because I am simply not earning enough.  So where is my confusion?  Am I simply unable to make a decent living?  So it would appear from my history.  But why?  Am I lazy?  No.  Am I crazy?  Perhaps.  Why is it so damn hard??

And why does it always seem to require me to hit bottom before I manage to do anything about it; and what I do is always only temporary.  I’m getting too old for this.  I want to go to sleep.  I don’t want to answer the phone.  I don’t want to pick up D, or take him to guitar lessons or have to fix dinner.  But I have no choice.  Just like I have no choice but to find a way to earn an adequate income.


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