I need meaning

by me

I need meaning. Right now my life is a series of repetitions. Lather, rinse, repeat. Why do anything if I’ll just have to do it again and again, Sisyphean torture. And each time it’s expected that I find joy and delight in the repeated task/event/duty. My soul is vacant, hungry, exhausted. The idea of going back to my (well-paying) job inflames the emptiness in my gut. (My mean mind sarcastically spews, “oh poor you, an easy and well-paying job makes you sad, oh boo hoo.”) Why can’t I be happy with what others would be jealous of. I rush from one thing to the next, always late, always stressed, always exhausted. And I’m supposed to be happy doing it. Why can’t I be happy? Because the repetitions are rote. They take no thought, I zombie my way through it all. Too tired to pay real attention. Too anxious of the next item I’ll need to drag myself to. Would a different job help? To work somewhere where what I do really makes a difference, rather than just making other people rich? To work somewhere where the people are emanating positive vibes, and joy is easy flowing. Anywhere I look, all options reduce income – is that worth it? I want to be happy. I want to be able to move through life with ease and calm. I want to be able to enjoy my present, the here and now. There is beauty and joy in front of me. How can I get access?? I’m banging on the glass wall which separates me, excludes me. My fists are bleeding, I’m desperate. Let me in!

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