The black pit of depression has been hanging out with me again, dragging me to early sleep every night that is tossed with dreams, encouraging me to ponder the meaning of life, finally coalescing into one question: To What Purpose?

I should lose weight. To What Purpose?

I should get a puppy. To What Purpose?

I should meet new people. To What Purpose?

I should finish college. To What Purpose?

All of the “shoulds” in my life can be asked, “To What Purpose?”. The black pit of depression answers that there is no purpose, that all of this is just killing time until fate turns off the lights, or until I do, whichever is first. The black pit missed that one little neuron that wants to keep going, though, and that little neuron sent out the word “Hope” when I was thinking about the puppy. I’m not getting a puppy, I realized that I would be tying myself down and would in fact lose the little bit of freedom that I have gained in the three and a half years since Lance passed. What the puppy represents, though, is faith in the future. Finding a baby life to join with and to guide and to nurture is the ultimate in hope for the future, except I would end up resentful because I would have to reconfigure my life around the being who is trapped in my house. I don’t want to do that.

I have been stalled for a long time, I know, and I come here and I write about starting anew and being all gung ho about some new shiny thing that I want to try and be passionately involved until, a week or maybe a month later, I am not continuing and have stopped and slid right back into the land of hopeless. I never wanted to be the person who keeps talking about everything that they should do and then don’t do it. I have known a lot of people like that, never admired them, and yet, here I am. Here I am thinking that I am different because I really mean what I say, I really want to lose weight and play the clarinet again and paint and sew and create, and I never follow through.

But I never lose that one hopeful spark.

So, here I am again, trying to find a path that will mean something to me when all is said and done. April 19, 2016 is my ten year anniversary at work and the date that I will be vested in the retirement account. It won’t give me a huge amount of money but every bit helps, right? That is my goal at work right now, 22 more months from today. I can do that. I may go past that date, I might not, but I need short term goals to keep that hope going. My first MOOC starts on July 14, the class in music theory. They sent me an email and the link to their Twitter account so I can chat with my classmates. Thanks to all of you, I know that the internet can be friendly and will be more brave about reaching out to these strangers from across the globe. I am going to look for classes in equine husbandry, too, and learn more about my favorite mammal from childhood. There are some great equine rescue associations that I could vacation at as a volunteer for the next couple of years, and I would like to be an asset, maybe even so much of an asset that they would offer me a full time spot someday. That has been a lifelong dream, to be around horses. My ultimate living situation would be an apartment in a stable loft where I could play my clarinet, and maybe the bagpipes, and lull them to sleep.

I have learned from taking care of my yard that dreams are attainable, and I am learning still that they need to be kept within reach of my capabilities, in this case it is time constraints and, yes, I lose a lot of time to this monster depression. Most nights I go home from work, take care of Puff, and go to bed. While other people that I know are up until 10:00 or later, I am sound asleep and having vivid dreams, waking up, falling back to sleep, waking up, the alarm goes off, and I eventually drag out of bed and shower and go to work with wet hair and no make up and sleep at lunch time and go home and do it all over again. Weekends are wasted time, too, as I have to mow my yard and do laundry and do up some of the dishes that have accumulated and there is always one day where I can’t do anything and probably don’t even get out of bed except to get food and take care of Puff. The people that I know in real life ask me what I do with my time, and this is it. It’s no wonder that they don’t invite me along on outings, I am so boring.

To What Purpose? I don’t know. There just has to be one or else, really, what’s the point? I hope I’m on the path to finding it.