Here we are again.

Sitting here, day of, fingers tapping.

44.

Another year older, another year wiser.

44.

Another year closer to the age my father passed away.

I feel it. It’s in my bones. It’s in my psyche.

I feel it.

43.

43.

It’s been a number, like any other number, but it’s been a little different too.

43.

Unmotivated.

That’s one word that I would use to describe my year. Unmotivated.

There was no motivation to do anything.

Not motivated to work.

Not motivated in my hobbies.

Not motivated to go out.

Not motivated to meet people.

Not motivated to cook.

No motivation.

43.

It’s been a tough number to just manage the basic day-to-day-ness of life.

Adulting was hard this past year.

Sure, I still did my work and still managed to do good work, but man, life was just blah.

I wake up with a blahness that is debilitating.

For sure, I can truly say, My Old Friend is back.

43.

Depression.

Adult depression.

Again, I’ve gone through waves of it throughout my adulthood. As I mentioned before, it’s a much different kind of depression that I was so familiar with when I was younger,

It’s a day-to-day functional depression, a fine line between existing and existing.

It lingers in the back, like a dewy mist slowly creeping through a field, but slowly dissipates by the morning sun. It’s there, but never too smothering.

43.

That was my number.

Why?

I genuinely have no concrete reason why, but considering everything, it’s hard to not see the many reasons.

I’m another year closer to the age when my father passed away. I know that it’s going to hit me hard because I don’t’ know what to expect. I have no expectations of my life beyond the number. I’m another year closer to a number that my father never saw.

In another month, on May 10th, it’ll be 20 years to the day that my father passed away. He’s always been on my mind for the past 20 years and will always be on my mind for however many numbers I have left in my life. I miss him.

I’m sad that he’s not here with me.

20 years.

Fuck May.

It’s approaching.

43.

Unmotivated.

Depressed.

Fine line.

My health.

I’m getting old.

I feel it. My body hurts. My knees hurt. My back hurts. My joints hurt.

I’m old.

Beaten.

I’m too lazy to exercise and make it better.

Unmotivated.

My heart works. It pumps, but so unhealthy. My cholesterol is the highest it has ever been. I thought I was fixing it last year, but it made it worse.

I need to change. I need to make an effort to give a shit about my health.

I need to make my life worthwhile; make the unreachable numbers mean something.

Make it worth something.

43.

Unmotivated.

Work. It happens. It’s another day, same job, another task. Unmotivated to do much, but I still do. I have to. I do what is asked and that’s all I can do.

The world.

The world crumbles around me. We’re moving back in time with our new laws and our new/old fears. Our world crumbles. Our nation divides.

Sigh.

It’s not a good time to be alive, considering how much good that we’ve seen and knowing that it could be so much better and then we reverse course and come to this shit.

Sigh.

43.

Hopefully 44 looks up on everything. I don’t know how much more of this ongoing ennui I can manage.

43.

It hasn’t been all bad. There were some good.

Traveling.

Back to traveling and exploring again. Started out strong early in the number with some new destinations and it continued from there.

I find myself needing to check out from my day-to-day and work and going someplace to rejuvenate far more frequently than the past. I can last no more than 2 months or so before I just need to take a few days off of work.

It was a pandemic thing, but I think it has been sticking since we are out of the pandemic now.

Will it be a permanent thing or will it change when/if life and the world gets back on track of getting better?

I don’t know.

I really don’t know.

Getting to the number that my dad passed is really fucking with my head. I know nothing is going to happen. Nothing life changing will happen magically once I hit the number.

It’ll be an occasion that once I pass it, I’ll be older than my dad ever saw with each coming year. I have to deal with it. I have to come to terms with it.

43.

It’s definitely been a tough number for me.

It wasn’t one of the worst, but it’s been tough. There’s been many years that have been worse, but it’s just different.

Motivation.

I don’t know how to get it back.

I don’t know what I need to do to get back on the proverbial horse and just do things again.

I need to shake this funk that I’m in ’cause it’s not healthy.

Not healthy at all.

44.

Please be better.

Please help me find the motivation.

I know I’m another year older, another year wiser, but 43 felt like I didn’t learn much at all.

Rut rut.

Definitely in a rut.

The same thing happened 10 years ago. Rut rut.

It took me about two years to get out of it, and that was with professional help.

Maybe I can navigate it better.

44.

Maybe it’s a year of accepting and coming to terms with me and my life and everything.

44.

I’m a little scared.

I’m not going to life, but I am scared.