A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-One-Hundred-And-Twenty-Six

It is another really late night, and. while I am glad to have done my work, to be dedicated enough to do it even when it keeps me up this late, I know it is not a good thing.  As I said last night, I know this extreme procrastination points towards problems that trouble me.  I feel so trapped at the moment, without any chance to find what I am seeking, and that is not only about things around my writing, but other areas as well.  The problem is, I know that I cannot change many of those other things, at least not without shifting other things in my life, things that point back towards finding some degree of meaningful success.  It all circles around and comes back to the same place.  I had tried, some time ago, to find things I could focus on in my personal life as a way to feel a sense of progress and growth in that arena, but things have shifted in ways that have twisted that and made it impossible.  It became a reinforcement of my being powerless, and demonstrated, once more, that I need to create a change in my life.  Their is a degree to which I have to develop a sense of having an identity in the world that is meaningful to me, and part of that is about feeling a sense that the work I have been doing matters in ways I can see.  I don't know how to get any of that or do anything to even create that possibility.  It is not as if I am unaware that I just keep spinning around with the same exact complaint, but what can I do?  I have a problem that I need to solve, but I can't find a solution, and the efforts I have made to enlist help towards progress have done little so far.  I need to feel hopeful without that hopefulness being unfounded and delusional.  I don't know what else to say or do.  I need something to really change for the better, but I don't how to make that happen, and even naming that need feels like it will cause me harm.

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