It’s Saturday. I work tomorrow. I have 2-3 loads of laundry to do, groceries to order, and not much else in the way of pressing matters.
So that makes it extra fun that I have the looming sense of doom creeping over me.
I had my two protein donuts for breakfast while watching chill YouTube videos. It’s a beautiful day, perfect temperature, birds are singing- and if I’m idle for longer than a minute, I feel dread. I’ve been like this since 2019. Likely why I finally started aging, what with constant cortisol at a light boil in my chest.
Is there anything actually wrong? I suppose, but when isn’t there for everyone?
I have debt that never seems to shrink, a divorce that I can’t find a lawyer to help with, increasing familial duties and issues I both need to know and feel stuck in between, a job that exhausts me emotionally and physically, and few friends. The friends I do have, I don’t have much energy to engage with.
I think 2027, if not sooner, I just need to buckle down. Trying to be happy hasn’t worked out. That sounds so much more of a bummer than it is. I chased happiness by giving men and women leeway, purchasing and rebranding myself, and numbing my life away in the quiet times with video games. What has that gotten me? I need to spend so, so little. I need to save for a down payment on a home. I need to decenter men so I don’t give them excuses and enough rope to ruin what I build. I need to get a more fulfilling job.
I know I’ll be 35 and time is running out on having kids. Is that what I want anyway? In part, but not having them with the wrong person means even more to me. At this point, I don’t trust myself to find the right person. I’m honestly losing faith that men want what I do. That’s their right, but I wont compromise my happiness just to build up theirs.
Many people in my family died without spouses and kids. I can, too, if it comes down to that. I just need to plan well, have no debts, and especially have no regrets.
Everything works out in the end. I just need to convince my nervous system of it.
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