Several years ago, I woke up one morning on a weekday and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and thought to myself: “I have nothing to live for.”

This wasn’t a suicidal thought, if you were worried. It was more the realization that I had no purpose in life, other than to go to work to make money to pay the bills so I could afford to go to work. A vicious, unhappy cycle.

My marriage had been crumbling for years, my health was deteriorating, and I was well into a slow-motion emotional breakdown that would eventually lead to intensive therapy. Those years are only so much of a blur in my memories, but that moment has stayed with me because it was particularly devastating to realize that I had, of my own volition, set myself up in an utterly meaningless, pointless existence.

Fast forward to this morning: I woke up at 5am in order to meditate and work out before sitting down with my coffee to write this post and work on my writing. I still have a day!job I’m not overly fond of, but that’s okay, because I have my writing and my own business to care for. I have graduated with a master’s degree and after a tumultuous year health-wise (2012 is dead to me; since it tried to kill me I think we’re even) I’m back to eating clean and working out.

As I got out of bed today I realized with a shocking clarity: I have SO MUCH to live for!

It didn’t happen overnight, but it happened. It’s here, this life I want to live. I’m still frustrated by some things and I have a long way to go towards my goals, but yeah, I have SO MUCH to live for.

It’s a great feeling.