I write in my journal almost every morning. This morning, contemplating teaching my class, I wrote:

I don’t care much about work anymore. I feel as if I tried and tried in life to make it turn out “right.” Each time I was out of work, I did my best to learn new skills and retool myself for another career change. Each time I got a new job, I tackled the job with enthusiasm and high hopes.

When I buckled down and studied for 6 years to get my Ph.D., I thought: There, now I’ve really shown the dedication and the commitment to earn my spurs to enter a financially stable profession that will allow me to retire with dignity. Then, I was slapped down again.

I was also slapped down by my mate in life, abandoned soon after I was post menopausal, got sick, lost my job. I do not believe it is possible to be in a loving relationship ever again, because my ability to trust is gone, and I just don't care enough about having a relationship to make compromises with anyone. And I feel cheated that I feel that way.

Something has gone out of me. Yes, something has gone out of me. The fight. The ambition. The will to succeed. I sit in this recliner knowing that my financial situation is dire and doing little to change it. I am not doing nothing to change it. I send out resumes. I look for freelance work. But I have not hit the bricks to file an application to be a substitute teacher with the public schools, or to get temp office work, or to go to all the department stores to get work as a clerk.

My eyes are falling shut. This journal is a bore. I feel sleepy. I want to curl up on my soft bed and go back to sleep. For the next 30 years. Then fall into a coma and die. As far as I’m concerned, my life is over, and I am just marking time from here on out. I do what I can to make marking the time better – looking for work, praying, building a relationship here and there. But really, the will to do better and be better and “make something of myself” isn’t there anymore.

The Effexor makes it possible for me to keep going. But when I turn over a rock, there's a lot of underlying disappointment, despair, and hopelessness.

Maybe this is just a mood. I thought I had been doing better than this.