There are days I think I have this all figured out and I know what I’m supposed to do, what I’m supposed to be when I grow up. Then there are days like today, and days like last Friday that tell me I’m completely wrong about having a clue.
The new year is a fresh start for a lot of people. Not me. I spend all year scrutinizing my choices, making resolutions I never keep, feeling like I need to make my life better. The new year is just more of the same. There is no discernible difference in my anxiety levels, my drive or lack thereof, in say, June compared to December and the beginning of January. It’s all the same. One chaotic “What the hell am I gonna do?”
Very recently, I considered taking my cleaning job and making it my “real” job. What I mean by that…