I feel as if I’ve hit a point in my life where I have absolutely no goals.
Substantial ones that inspire and feel me with passion.
It ain’t a quarter-life (already had it) nor is it a mid-life (not there yet) crisis.
Perhaps everyone feels this sense of malaise as they near their thirties?
Got married. Still married.
And no plans to have kids yet (that is NOT a solution, despite what certain extended family members might say).
Sure, there are other things that I would like to do and frankly, have to do. But none of these are as cool-sounding as getting a PhD in Russian Literature, for example.
At the moment, I am anxiously waiting to find out whether there will be a complete change in my daily routine… or whether things will remain, as they have been, for the past couple of months.
I’m afraid of the latter.
Because then, I’ll find myself again in this mental space: not knowing what I am doing or where I am going with my life.
P.S. I realize my past few posts have been way gloomier than my usual exhibited silliness, but this upturn in moods is actually Classic Rafia. My brother even oh-so-lovingly diagnosed me as bi-polar one time! Just watch. Next week, I’ll be raving about cake again!