…like not writing at all. I have noticed that more and more I think about writing and I’m just “meh” ion wanna do that not now, maybe not ever. I used to want to write a book, a sexy novel about people who look like me. I don’t have the drive to do that anymore. It’s simply not on my radar.
My life is so very different right now. I try not to be all dramatic but I feel daily I’m fighting for my Plan A…the things I wish for God to grant me. I feel like I’m fighting for the marriage I want (not sure how that’s going) and the career I want (something I can have some control over). I also feel like The Mister isn’t really ready to do the work, he just wants it to be. I can’t really fault him for that, it feels like failure in small increments to me. *sigh*
We found out officially he will be getting his promotion. I’m so proud of him, but a part of me feel so damn dead on the inside. Like there is no joy. Who the fuck stole my joy? I don’t find joy in many things and it’s not the slippery slope of darkness of my past depression. It doesn’t feel like that. I just feel…well nothing. No true sadness, no true joy, no true anything. Perhaps this is another form of depression…oh goody a NEW depression! *sarcasm*
I told The Mister we need to do individual counseling, he has things going on with him that HE needs to address.
This is only 1/2 a post as I plan to go to the gym for cybex ( oh how I love that elliptical machine) and Zumba! and I’m off!
While I have lost my joy, my sex drive and part of my heart…I still find laughter…that’s a start I guess!