I think one of the most frustrating things I’m working through right now is that I’m pretty sure I’m a lot more depressed than I thought I was. And I don’t really have any reason to be.

We have a beautiful house. My daughters are basically perfect (they’re excellent students, they’re funny and smart and beautiful and pretty much everything I could ever hope for). I have the best husband that loves me more than I can imagine (or probably deserve some days). I have virtually no responsibilities during the day other than keeping the house clean (and I mostly suck at that). The sun is shining. I get to travel more often than I ever imagined I’d be able to.

So why can’t I find the gumption to get up and go most days? Why am I so tired all the time? Why do the things I used to love not seem to bring me joy anymore?

I miss being excited about cooking. Now it’s just another task that has to be accomplished. And I feel like my family feels that about me.

I still love reading, but it takes forever for me to get going on a book and then even longer to pay attention to what’s happening.

I deleted pretty much all social media off my phone and found that I genuinely do not give a shit about it most days.

I don’t want to do birth work anymore (even though I don’t know what to do with the very expensive website I have and am mad about all the things I’m purchased for said birth work).

I think part of why I’m mad is that, per the stars, 2026 is supposed to be MY YEAR. So when is that going to happen? When am I going to feel like something is clicking? Like I’m bonkers passionate about something again? I know that I can’t just wish something into existence, but what the hell is it that I’m supposed to do?!