Money doesn’t do it for me. Sometimes I wish that it did. I’m not paying rent and I’m still broke. I’m uncomfortable. Laura pays when we go out and it’s been a year since I was generous. I’ve been hoping for two years that woodworking will pull me out of the weeds. I’ve been hoping for magic that hasn’t happened yet.
I want to keep doing what I’m doing but I don’t want the pressure. I don’t want to feel like I’m failing. I want this to feel natural and I want to know that it’s okay for progress to be slow. I want to be reassured that my strange looking progress is my process. I want to make $16,000 a year and not break down crying when I’m not sad. I do not wish for average typical brain functioning but at times like this I get close.