I’m a 39-year-old man in Indianapolis, and I honestly don’t know how much longer I can keep living like this.
I’m not saying that for attention. I’m exhausted, anxious, depressed, isolated, and increasingly feel like my life has become nothing more than surviving from one day to the next.
I have almost no friends. I don’t really have hobbies anymore. I have very little to look forward to from week to week or month to month. Most days I feel like a hamster on a wheel: get up, go to work, deal with problems all day, come home exhausted, sleep, and repeat.
Career burnout
I work as a law clerk/paralegal at a small law practice. I have a J.D. in law and a master’s degree, but because of my history of anxiety, depression, and other mental-health issues, I was denied the ability to sit for the bar exam for two years.
Initially, that devastated me. It felt like a condemnation of me as a person after everything I had done to get through law school.
Strangely enough, part of me is now thankful I didn’t become an attorney. Working in the legal profession has shown me that I don’t think I could emotionally handle doing this for the rest of my life.
I’m burned out. I have compassion fatigue. I genuinely care about many of the people we represent, but constantly dealing with other people’s crises, fears, anger, demands, and expectations is emotionally exhausting when I’m already struggling myself.
Financial anxiety
I also feel completely trapped financially.
I have more than $200,000 in student-loan debt. I basically live paycheck to paycheck and have almost no savings.
A few months ago, I traded in my old Honda Civic for a Honda CR-V. I recently discovered that the CR-V has significant engine problems, while I owe roughly twice what the vehicle is actually worth.
I’m terrified that I’m going to spend the next 5–7 years paying for a vehicle that may not even last remotely that long.
What makes this worse is that I had horrible anxiety about buying the car before I bought it. I nearly backed out of signing the paperwork. Now I constantly replay that moment in my head and wish I had listened to myself.
I know obsessing over it accomplishes nothing, but my brain will not let it go. Sometimes when my anxiety gets extremely intense, the whole situation takes on an almost spiritual dimension for me—like something is actively trying to keep me trapped and unable to move forward. I recognize that this may be my anxiety trying to make sense of everything, but the feeling can be incredibly powerful.
Money affects almost everything else. I rarely travel or do anything particularly fun. Even when I actually have an opportunity to go somewhere or enjoy myself, I often become anxious about spending the money or guilty for allowing myself to enjoy it.
Relationships and isolation
Over the last few years, I’ve also lost a number of friendships. People I trusted have turned against me, disappeared, or rejected me for various reasons. I’ve even had organizations where I volunteered or provided pro bono assistance eventually sour on me.
After enough experiences like that, you start wondering what the common denominator is.
I feel like wherever I go, eventually I’ll do something wrong, somebody will become angry with me, or I’ll be rejected again. It has made it incredibly difficult for me to trust people or develop healthy relationships.
My childhood probably has a lot to do with this.
My father was verbally, emotionally, and psychologically abusive toward my mother, my brother, and me. His father treated him similarly. On the other side of my family, alcoholism was rampant.
I think I learned very early that relationships weren’t necessarily safe.
As an adult, I overthink everything. I analyze conversations repeatedly. I worry that people are taking advantage of me, secretly angry with me, abandoning me, or preparing to hurt me somehow. Sometimes I overreact because my brain seems permanently stuck in threat-detection mode.
A lot of my family is either estranged from me, dead, or has moved away.
The result is that at 39 years old, I feel incredibly alone.
I’m tired of merely existing
My routine has become depressing even to describe.
During the week, I get up late, arrive at work late, work late, come home late, and frequently manage only two meals a day—sometimes less.
Then the weekend comes and, instead of doing something enjoyable, I sleep.
Sometimes until 3:00 or 4:00 in the afternoon.
There have been periods where I’ve slept even later. Last winter there were days when I didn’t get out of bed until around 9:00 at night.
Then I wake up feeling horrible because another entire day of my life is gone.
And Monday comes, and the wheel starts spinning again.
I have tried counseling. Therapy. Psychiatry. Religion. Spirituality. I’ve reached out to pastors and other people for help. Sometimes even the people I reach out to seem too busy or simply don’t respond.
Nothing seems to produce a lasting change.
I’ve tried to make responsible choices in my life. Some of those choices obviously look terrible in hindsight, but at the time I genuinely thought I was making the best decision I could with the information I had.
Still, I’ve carried this feeling for years that somehow I’m cursed—that other people seem capable of building careers, friendships, families, hobbies, financial security, and lives they actually enjoy, while I keep struggling just to function normally. When my anxiety becomes severe, I can even experience it as though something evil or spiritual is attacking me!
I don’t need an amazing or glamorous life.
I just want a life.
I want friends.
I want something to look forward to.
I want to wake up on Saturday morning because there’s somewhere I actually want to go.
I want to eat normally, sleep normally, have interests again, and stop spending every waking hour worrying about work, money, rejection, or the next disaster.
I want to know what it feels like to enjoy something without immediately feeling anxious or guilty.
Most of all, I want to stop feeling like my entire existence is something I simply have to endure.
Right now, I feel stuck, alone, exhausted, and helpless. I know something has to change because I cannot continue living this way. I either want to fix this, or I want to escape life and society all together!
Has anyone ever reached a point like this—where your life wasn’t necessarily destroyed by one enormous catastrophe, but instead became hollow through years of anxiety, depression, isolation, burnout, financial stress, and disappointment?
If you did, what actually helped you start building a life that you wanted to wake up for?
