The past few weeks have been difficult. I am tired. I think menopause is kicking my butt or maybe I am just a victim of stress. I really don't know. Insomnia seems to be my ever present companion and feelings of insecurity about so many things is a constant battle. I know these writings will never be read by anyone but me, but I still struggle to write down the thoughts that are often on my mind. They are not positive thoughts and I hate to admit to having them. Is that being dishonest? I think that I even try to be something I am not to myself. Is that crazy? Life is generally okay, but certainly full of disappointment. Although I honestly have no idea what it feels like to be someone else in some other life circumstance, I wonder if others feel more love, more certainty, just more. . . I don't think that I am depressed. I have been depressed before. Now it is more of a malaise; lethargic. I don't get very excited about much anymore. There is a lot more of the world that I haven't seen or experienced than what I have, but it is difficult to muster the curiosity today.
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