We’ve reached that point – the point there is no point in – where we just don’t see the point anymore. What is the point? Why are we still struggling, all these years later? Biologically, we’re knocking on the door of forty – isn’t it time to admit there is no point rather than face an unknown number of years doing exactly what we’ve always done? These are rhetorical questions. There’s nothing on our bucket list, nothing we wish we’d done, nothing we have still to do. It’s just one repetitive day after another, an endless cycle of monotony. Once upon a time – as all the best tales start – we had hope that the future would be better, that we would be “cured” and back to “normal” but that ship has long since sailed. Magic wands seem to be in short supply, and our belief in a fix ended a long time ago. We don’t know what our future looks like – our team doesn’t seem to be able to predict the outcome for us – which makes it hard to find something good to focus on. And without that, there is no point. There’s also no point to this hugely depressing post, other than that we were hoping writing things down might help us to find a point. It hasn’t worked yet.