The past six months have seen everything shaken. I once prided myself on the solidity of my faith. I spent the majority of my life unshakably convinced of many different things. I can't remember what that felt like. My best hope is to find some kind of work I am at least capable of so I can fade away into it and hang all of my dreams to die there.
"My dreams." I keep wondering if that is really my problem. Self deprecation as a disguise for malignant narcissistic selfishness. These kinds of musings are tiresome, I think we can all agree. I still believe nobody is more sickened by me than me.
It may seem I am asking for encouragement. I am not. Encouragement is... embarrassing. My only remaining priority is to provide for my family, which has really always been my highest priority and my greatest personal achievement. There doesn't seem to be any sense in trying to rekindle the embers of other ambitions.