Drip drip drip. Tropical Storm Sally has been raining on us for three days. The gray drizzle suits my mood but makes me want to sleep all the time.

When I’m awake and not working I stare out across the field and wonder why I’m here. Does the butterfly wonder too or does he know his purpose?

I no longer know my purpose. It used to be to raise Ben. Then when he was grown, to nurture and encourage. I guess my life was fairly narrow and I’m paying the price for that. But that was always enough for me.

Now they say God has a purpose for my life. But “they” don’t know what that purpose is. And God is silent on the subject. So I exist. No purpose. I just breathe.

And wait for relief. Does that come in the form of this magical “purpose?” Or does it come in the form of cessation of breath. I have my preference but that makes me a very uninspiring person.

And people are so quick to tell me how brave I am and how well I’m doing. Am I? Or do they just say that to find something positive to say? I appreciate the kindness, but I don’t feel brave, I feel broken.

A toy car without wheels.

A baby doll without a head.

A teddy bear with no stuffing.

People invest their time to make me better but I don’t mend. Another day dawns and I’m still broken.

I water my flowers, I work, I smile, I pay bills, I hunt for a new job. I am a gazillion miles away from all those things. Living in a world in my head that is more real than the outside world. It beats a drum of misery on the inside of my skull: Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.