Sorrows

Many things contribute to the downward trend of my mental wellbeing, my incurable health conditions (yes, plural, because apparently only having one isn’t shitty enough); the fact that my health ruined my plans of late-bloom academic teaching and forced me to abandon my PhD halfway through a decade ago; huge regrets about how poor a father I have been to my daughter and how my parenting of my son would hardly win awards either; great sadness that the political will of the UK seems to have retreated back into a xenophobic selfishness that threatens the future happiness of all but the very wealthy…

Most of all is the fact that my health troubles and lack of ability to have a career any longer means that I feel incapable of living life in the same way I have always lived it, that way being based around the premise that we are all capable of bringing about the personal world we seek if we are prepared to put in the time, energy, effort and belief into it. I don’t have the energy to produce suitable energy, my time left on earth is way less than the time behind me and my belief has been butchered as a consequence.

Maybe I could live with the changes thrust upon me if I no longer wished I could make significant changes in my life but I’m not dead, just unwell. Of course I still wish I could change, even improve some aspects of my life. Being unable to do so is like a pair of hands around my throats choking the spirit out of me.

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