Mid-Life Crisis

I think I may be having one.  

For months now, actually.  I just finally labeled it.

If it's not, then I'm not sure what else to call it.

I know I usually get in a funk this time of year, but this started months ago when thoughts of cold and snow were furthest from my mind.  So, it's more than a funk.  

I admit to having issues with depression, especially when my thyroid get out of whack, but I don't necessarily feel sad or moody.  It's more like regretful and disappointed.  So, it's not a thyroid problem.

I don't think I'm angry.  If I am, it's solely directed inward and not at others.  I don't feel anyone else is at fault for how I'm feeling.

I'm simply not satisfied.  With anything.  Aside from Punky, that is.  This surely has nothing to do with my beautiful little girl.

I just daydream a lot.  I never used to.  Not at all.  But now, it's almost constant.  And always about the past.  Never the future.

It's almost like I'm questioning every decision I ever made it life, and wondering what would've been if I had chosen differently.  I'm stuck in a what-if mentality and I can't shake it.

If someone asked me at eighteen about where I thought I would be in twenty years, I wouldn't have said here.  Nothing about my life turned out how I thought it would.  I had dreams, but I didn't follow them.  Maybe now I'm trying to understand why.  Maybe now I'm trying to figure out what I still have time to fix.  If any of it even can be.

Forty is lurking just sixteen months away.  My rational mind knows it's only a number, yet I seem fixated on it somehow.  Like it's some sort of deadline or something.  The "it's now or never" argument is gaining momentum in my psyche.  If I don't get a handle on it, the results will be drastic.

Mid-life crisis? Nervous breakdown? Good old-fashioned mental illness?

I suppose only time will tell.