Purpose

In the last week, two or three of my clients
told me during their initial assessment that they
just feel there is no purpose to their lives.
One of them is in her mid 40s--the others in their
50s. All presented with anhedonia and dysphoria,
all had suffered losses in the last 2-3 years, all had
grown children, each expressed a prior interest
in a variety fo things--gardening, art, reading--
which no longer exists. For as dysphoric as each
of them was, it gives me hope to know they reached
out for help.

So, I am thinking about purpose. What is my purpose?
Does it matter? How much? Will I be one of those
people who thinks I can never be the person I want
to be, who thinks of myself in utilitarian terms, who
lives the rest of my life on the outside looking in?

I don't know. It goes back to the old question:
What do you want to be when you grow up?
The question was not What do you want to do?
Be. Key word.

Today, I "be" lazing. Slept until 10:30. Eating a
light breakfast. Going to have lunch later with a
friend. Then I need to clean this mess up.

Email from Lauren. She was sick all night with severe
vomitting and diarrhea. That's bad enough when you're
in your own home, but when you're in Costa Rica in a
hostel room you're sharing with your boyfriend and
brother, that's real bad! She says she feels better
this morning. I sure hope the worst of it has passed.