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Help – I have given up

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  • #990
    Alisha Nash

      I’m sorry this is lengthy. I’ve had this in my head for some time.

      I’m sorry I exist so that you even have to read this.

      I’m at the 11th hour and I feel like the final bell of life is about to ring.

      I used to have passion. I used to be a lot of things. I was an actor, motivated, living a double life of excess and determination.

      Now my drive has been replaced by shame and fear. I don’t have many friends anymore as I’ve left that lifestyle, but the echoes of it remain.

      My parents and I have a good relationship, but I feel like they don’t even have time for me anymore either. Obligation instead of desire.

      I’m an artist by profession, but I don’t know how to be anymore. I don’t know what to create. I’m unmotivated to make my own anything. Every time I start, I abandon it as it’s trash. It makes me wonder if my very perceptions of what is art and what I like are trash. Maybe my eyes don’t work like everyone else’s. What I see is sh*t to everyone else. Maybe my art is just sh*t. Maybe it always was.

      I’m not motivated at work anymore. With the exception of my co-worker who has been making a name from himself, my company doesn’t have much faith in me to perform. My work is ridiculed in meetings, my boss barely acknowledges me and I stay late and work overtime weekly, but who cares? It’s a job, it’s expected. I know.

      I know it’s not a competition and the worse kind of people are those that harbor resentment for other’s successes, and heaven knows my co-worker deserves every accolade he’s received…but it gets harder and harder to feel like I bring anything to the table, and to be honest, maybe I never did.

      God, this is pathetic.

      I’m unfulfilled at work. I have no life outside of it and I’m not exactly in a situation where I can pack up and move.
      I feel creatively unavailable.
      I’m selfish.
      I live vicariously in the drive and motivation I had in my 20’s…and the fact that I peaked before 30.
      Now, merely a frame ravaged by time and consequence. A cautionary tale at best. Taking up space and living on borrowed time and empty pity.

      I’m tired.

      “Oh, Woe is you. You have so many problems and refuse to do anything about them outside of airing your grievances anonymously because you’re a cowardly self-deprecating sack of sh*t”…I imagine you gleefully typing as there would be no reprisals.

      I know it’s not a practical solution, but I’m investigating ways to finally sleep. The kind of sleep you don’t wake up from. Any suggestions are more than welcome.

      Thank you for your time.

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