My name is Dave and every day is a new opportunity to remember that I am unemployed, divorced, and somehow still surprised by both facts. Every morning I wake up, stretch, look at the ceiling, and immediately think, “Wow. I still don’t have a job.” Then, before I can even process that, my brain reminds me, “Also, your wife divorced you.” Incredible. Truly a devastating double feature.
People ask me, “Dave, how are you doing?” and I say, “Well, I don’t have a job, my wife left me, and it was largely the result of my own decisions, so I’d say things are going pretty consistently.”
My wife wanted kids. I decided I didn’t. Looking back, that may have been an important conversation to take more seriously. At the time I thought I had everything figured out. Now my biggest responsibility is remembering to charge my phone.
Every day I tell myself I’m going to turn my life around. Then I sit down for five minutes, start thinking about all my mistakes, and suddenly it’s three hours later and I’ve accomplished absolutely nothing except becoming sad in multiple different positions.
My daily schedule:
* 7:00 AM: Wake up.
* 7:01 AM: Remember I don’t have a job.
* 7:02 AM: Remember my wife divorced me.
* 7:03 AM: Whisper “damn” to myself.
* 7:04 AM–11:00 PM: Continue processing the previous three minutes.
My friends say, “You need to move on.” Move on to what? Employment? Emotional stability? A healthy future? Those sound difficult.
Sometimes I imagine an alternate universe where I made better choices. In that universe I have a job, a happy marriage, a nice house, and a reasonable sleep schedule. Meanwhile, in this universe, I spent twenty minutes looking for my keys before realizing they were in my hand.
I have become the philosopher king of regret. I don’t study history, economics, or science. I study my own terrible decisions. My doctoral thesis is titled: Consequences of Doing Whatever Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time.
Every sunset I stare dramatically into the horizon like I’m the main character of a movie, except instead of embarking on an epic adventure, I go inside and wonder why I opened the refrigerator.
The worst part is that every day I convince myself things can’t possibly get more ridiculous, and then I somehow find a new way to disappoint myself. It’s actually impressive. If self-sabotage were an Olympic event, I’d have sponsorship deals.
Anyway, if anyone needs me, I’ll be sitting in a folding chair, unemployed, divorced, overthinking every life decision I’ve ever made, and preparing to repeat the exact same conversation with myself tomorrow. The grind never stops.