I ask myself this question more and more often these days.
What is the point? Why am I spending my time the way I do? What am I really trying to accomplish?
I have lost interest in some things I used to enjoy very much.
I get easily frustrated and emotional when things don't work out the way I want them to. For example, Donald and I spent two hours in the car trying to run an errand, but because of traffic, we had to turn around empty handed. By the time we got home, I was in tears.
I get excited about things, like a trip to Europe with Donald I'm trying to plan, but then I lose all interest, feeling like it's probably a waste of money or that our family planning might get in the way or that we won't be able to take time off work to make the trip worthwhile.
So what's the point in trying?
I know how blessed my life is and I know that I should be feeling grateful for what I have.
But sometimes I don't. Sometimes I just don't know why I get out of bed in the morning. I feel purposeless.
I know I am loved and I know that people care about me. I try to smile and keep my head up.
But sometimes I'd rather cry until I am empty.
If I knew what was wrong, maybe I could move forward. Maybe I could say, ok, this is the hand I have been dealt, now I can figure out how to keep living. But I don't know what is wrong. I don't have the information I need.
So I float, in limbo, on automatic, until I find a way to bring some light back into my life.
I'm not unhappy, I tell Donald. I'm just not happy.