Boodaism
Today I almost broke up with my wife and cried more than I have all year.
That’s me.
I’m 33 and have no consistent income, a past of many failed business ideas and nothing a reasonable person would consider financially promising on the near horizon.
That’s me.
I don’t want to play the role of provider for my family, and I don’t want to have kids, even though all that makes me feel like less of a man.
That’s me.
I’m in the beautiful Italian town of Porto Ercole, it’s 7pm and I haven’t left my hotel room all day.
That’s me.
I’m ashamed of how low my sex drive is and guilty that I don’t desire my wife more.
That’s me.
I hate people who write vulnerable posts to get attention and I know that part of me is doing that to feel better about myself.
That’s me.
I struggle daily to not blame my wife and I find my stubbornness to take responsibility astounding.
That’s me.
Most days I wake up with a massive amount of back pain and I know I’m not taking care of my body the way I need to be.
That’s me.
Often I look at my life and wonder if my rebellious teenager has been running the whole show, and if I’ll ever grow up and be an adult.
That’s me.
I borrow off credit cards to stay afloat and year after year I promise I’ll change my circumstances yet I never do.
That’s me.
I constantly doubt whether I should be married and feel like I have absolutely no idea how to manage myself in relationships.
That’s me.
I’ve spent my entire 20s trying to make people think I’m cool to make up for having low self-esteem in high school.
That’s me.
And it’s enough.
It really is enough.
(Those last two lines are for me)
