End of the Year

The Christmas season is supposed to be relaxing, isn't it? Days off of work, time to sit around with family and spend quality time?

So why am I so stressed out again?

My focus is completely wrong. I'm anxious about finishing up these Christmas cards -- mainly because we didn't send out (hardly) any at all last year -- and am feeling overwhelmed by the amount of time and effort it takes to write them.

Friends and family, I love you all, but you are wearing me out.

It doesn't help that my job -- you know, the place I go to every day to try and earn some bread to put on the table -- is turning into a nightmare of dread. A nightmare because I. don't. care. any. more. My drive, my ambition, my desire to succeed has fizzled out like last year's birthday candle. My anxiety overload has washed over that old flame like a biblical flood and drenched it so deeply that it will never, ever, ever burn again.

So my job is wearing me out as well.

There are so many things going on around here that contribute to the endless spiral of depression that I cannot begin to list them all.

I'll just shut up for now and go eat chocolate.

Chocolate with peanut butter.

That always makes me feel better.

For awhile.