I am stuck in a period of not experiencing life.

It's not permanent.

But I am so bored and lifeless and stiff. I haven't done anything creative in a year and nothing like all the art and music and writing I did. Nothing like the adventures I've had all my life. I have a good story.

What made it enjoyable was doing it.

Now every day is the same. Work. Every day. And neglect the rest of my life.

Being back home, the same things happen. But the disappointments aren't disappointing. The same fun things aren't fun anymore. The same problems are problems.

It's all going on around me and it's like I'm sitting in the dark, a zombie, watching it all happen. All around me, the channel changing and I'm just trying to pay attention because there's a test.

It's an abyss of experience surrounding me and I'm stuck in this rerun. I'm so bored.

I'm trying to do the right thing. I'm sacrificing right now and I'd choose it a million times so that my son can have what he needs. I'm not complaining. This isn't just what I have to do, it's what I choose to do.

I'm however starting to wonder if doing the right thing for someone else, even though very noble, is hurting me more than I realize because I'm too busy to tend to it.

I can do this. Growth is happening and I can see the good in this situation even though I feel like I'm barely hanging onto my individuality. I just miss me. I like me. I like my quiet inner world. I have some work ahead of me but I can usually do what I put my mind to, so I'm not giving up on me.

The question is, how long do I let this continue?

Am I really doing the right thing?

I don't know.

Blah.