When do you know you've failed at life?
When you're flying down a Texas highway with your head out of the window, vomiting, gagging, mumbling, 'I'm a winner, I'm a winner, I'm a winner...' over and over again, trying to psych yourself up for a flight that you've canceled, rescheduled, canceled and rescheduled again?
That was last year.
Spending all night in the bathroom vomiting so loudly that it wakes up your nephew?
That was the year before.
Seems like I always have a breakdown when I go to Texas.
When you're wandering around your apartment in the early morning hours with barely enough strength to stay upright, but a churning stomach that keeps you from lying down?
When you go into the red with sick time and look ahead and worry what you're going to do when you get sick again?
That was this morning.
And a couple months ago, and a couple months before that, and on and on.
When none of the steps you take to improve your situation pan out? When you make hard decisions but nothing happens?
I fail at life. I'm tired of going through the difficulties of life, of depression, alone. The never ending beating that happens. I wish I had a life coach that I could take out of my hall closet when I needed help, encouragement, a sanity check. I really don't feel equipped to continue any further. These past two years have been such a strain. Maybe I'm not who I think I am, maybe my goals have all been wrong. Maybe I have no idea what's going on around me. I know I don't understand, and I've prayed for understanding, but my ears must be filled with cotton.
I am at a loss, a complete and total loss. I can't make heads or tails of life, of my life. I've tried so very hard over these years to do the right thing at every juncture.