Very descriptive adjectives, yes, I know. However, that’s exactly how I feel. I’ve been stewing for some time now. I suppose you could say that I’ve been stewing for months. I knew that I was no longer in a job or a place that I enjoyed and even in changing that there is a lot that I obviously still need to figure out. I’m just in a place where I’m utterly and totally unhappy. The heat doesn’t help. Much like dreary days hot days gets me even more moody as well as groggy and very sad. I feel like I’m withering away. I look back at the past month and a half and wonder what I’ve done with my time. Sure, I’ve but in many long hours applying to jobs, experienced the gut-wrenching pain of have a job for one day and I’ve even set up my first home server. But in the multitude of seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks and now over a month, I’ve felt my symptoms must be akin to being bipolar.

I’ve struggled with depression all of my adult life and it is now compounded by my increased weight (due in large part to medication) and decreased desire to do anything. I have moments where I’m in full productivity mode and then there is the vast majority of my time where I feel so beaten down by the reality of what my life has become. I try to remain optimistic but then I find myself laying in bed like every other day wishing I felt motivated to do more. My brother and I differ in this way. Like me he’s presently unemployed but unlike me he gets up every day and busies himself with things to do. Whereas I lay in my fortress of solitude feeling utter despair and an unwillingness and complete lack of desire to do anything.

Sometimes I really just don’t know what to do with myself. I’m being quite honest, I have no clue what it is that I really want out of the rest of my life. I supposedly now have a job but with an employer who has yet to get back to me on a start date. And to add further insult to injury, the wages are not enough to cover our monthly expenses. My hubby is in a minimum wage job that he hates and I’m in my own mental and emotional prison. Sometimes life is just unbearably exhausting. For instance, today I felt reduced as I called again, for the fifth day to inquire about when I was to begin the job. And as with days four, three, two and one, no one could tell me anything. It was as if they were merely employed, not invested and certainly not in the know. And then I thought I may be productive in our suite and continue unpacking and storing away items. However, the heat on the second floor of the house, particularly our rooms left me unable to do little more than walk over to the office and get on the computer. Even that was a struggle. Today, writing is a struggle. I feel so, so human. So disappointed in the world, in myself, in everything.

Some days you can’t help but to feel like crap. It is what it is. I’m the type of person who has to be busy, a part of something, fulfilled by life’s regularity. I have my own business but have felt less inclined to do something with it whereas I should be feeling more. My concern is in working a regular job and making the time and having the energy to do my business. Ideally I’d be someone’s personal assistant and it would be something that I could do from my home office. I have been proactive in updating my business website and even becoming a part of Elance. It’s just that as the days go by I feel more and more beaten down and our bills appear as if they’re now a mountain in front of me.

Enough of that. Today’s poem, Raymond. The long and short of it, an experience that many of us “good girls” have to go through.