It’s a grey, damp Tuesday morning. Unglamorous. Within you, you feel an obligation to start your day.
It’s a fear-based impulse. You don’t really want to move but things need to be done. The bills won’t pay themselves. A twinge of pain reminds you of your current relationship problem. Life seems full of practical problems that demand your attention. Really, you just want this day to go away and for you to be left alone in peace. What is the purpose of all this struggle you think to yourself? What’s the point? Why does my life seem like it has no real meaning other than solving a never ending list of problems?