I'm losing.

The war against despair, I mean, though I manage to win the occasional battle or two.

I know that the Friday/Saturday nexus is particularly difficult, because I'm usually so exhausted. I know the physical ills (latest: what i suspect is a blocked Skene's gland or a cyst; yes, it's every bit as annoying and uncomfortable as you might imagine) can be addressed, and my insurance might even cover some of the cost (though I'm still worried about a couple of things, and I'll continue to worry until I've actually seen a doctor and found out what's going on, which won't be for two more weeks). I suspect that, given my age, my hormones are a little volatile right now, which may be affecting my moods in subtle ways (I've never been particularly prone to PMS or anything like that, but who can tell). I know that winter is always difficult, especially when, as with this year, I'm not getting much sunlight. I know that I can't help but think about Last Year At This Time, which was when my life was exploding in a million shards. I know that, objectively, the past two years would be difficult for anyone. I know that I don't have to make any long-term decisions just now. I know all of these things.

But I also know that I can't do this work forever; it's too taxing and pays too little money. I know that the longer I work outside an office, the more difficult it will be to find a job, any job, in an office--I'm already going to have problems. Though I occasionally apply to something that seems particularly well-suited to me, I have never received a single response from anyone at any place, which serves to confirm my worst fears. I know that the plans I had two years ago, the ones that included a partner, the ones that predicated this major life change on having some (financial, emotional, day-to-day) assistance, are worthless. Given that I've been through this before--spent a lot of money, effort, time, and love on something that explodes into nothingness, leaving me years older, with no career and no money, plus some debt--it's hard to have any confidence at all that I can figure out anything that will work and will provide a platform for happiness for me. (I regard happiness as something that's relatively self-generated, but I think there are some basic requirements that need to be met before that's possible. Constant anxiety and tiredness are not conducive, for example.)

I'm sure this all sounds self-pitying, and that annoys the shit out of me too (I don't like my own whining any more than I like anyone else's). And believe me when I say that I'm not looking for validation, or encouragement, or anything like that. But the fact is, I'm working a dead-end job, for very little money and for long hours, and, even though I generally like the work quite a bit, I don't get days off and I don't see a path out of it to anything that's even remotely fulfilling, interesting, or moderately financially beneficial. My retirement plan is "win the lottery," and even I know that's not a very good plan.
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Between now (nearly 11 pm) and when I wrote the above (around 7 am), I talked to Jane and to my old boss, both of whom confirmed that I'm not imagining the crappiness of the situation. Which, oddly enough, is comforting. It doesn't change anything, of course, and it doesn't solve any of the problems, but it does help to have people I know and love (and who, presumably, know and love me) say, Yeah, your situation IS a difficult one. It's not uniquely difficult, of course--Jane and Peter both have their own difficulties, as does everyone else--but it's still helpful to have someone acknowledge the crap rather than try to jolly me out of it.

Plus, I got some writing done for Peter, and had a lovely early dinner with a friend, followed by a viewing of "Animal House." My laundry is done, too, so tomorrow I can go to the dentist and then to the library and maybe hang out somewhere for awhile and do a little nothing with a pile of books in front of me.