Sometimes I find myself thinking I’d really like to write a book someday. That’s been a goal of mine since I was probably 12 or 13 years old. Sometimes I find myself thinking when hubby and I have been married 25 years will head back to our honeymoon spot. Sometimes I find myself thinking when big one and little one are grown hubby and I are going to do this that or the other thing. Sometimes it’s even so simple as next weekend I’m going to do XY or Z.
But then reality slaps me upside the head and I think about all the broken dreams, all the unfulfilled plans, and all the false hopes that I’ve suffered throughout my life. And I beat myself up for even thinking about things that I want or hope. I think part of me is resigned to the fact that this is the best it’s ever going to be, that every day I wake up and feel the same and I’ll do the same things and then we go to bed and it will just repeat day after day until my time comes.
Does this sound hopeless? Maybe, but it’s how I feel. Depression has taken over I think….