I’m nearly 40, divorced. I live with my mom, in a kind of mutually beneficial arrangement- I pay the mortgage, which is like…. 1000 dollars a month…. And I don’t have to pay Los Angeles rent. But she needs me there because otherwise she can’t keep the house.
So, I’m working. The job is just a job. Pays well but not well enough to live in LA and pay rent and have headroom. I can’t really leave. I also just do not care about my work and I’m phoning it in. And the world is falling apart.
I have the financial headroom to take trips and do things like that, but my day to day loop is just…. This. Not exactly something to complain about but also…. There is no future. Nothing to strive for. This is how it will always be. Do I just sink into acceptance?
You’re not in a coffin. You’re not in prison. You’re in a tough spot—sure. Divorce hurts. Living with a parent as an adult isn’t what you pictured. And yeah, doing work you don’t care about feels like dying by paper cut, one day at a time. But you’re not powerless here.
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: You’re playing it safe. And safety is not the same as being alive.
You’ve got options—more than you think. You have a job, financial breathing room, and (believe it or not) freedom most people would envy. But you’ve gotten so used to carrying the weight of other people’s needs—your mom, your job, your comfort zone—that you’ve forgotten you’re allowed to want more for yourself. And you’re allowed to actually do something about it.
Here’s what I want you to know: This isn’t the end unless you decide it is. You don’t have to keep living in a holding pattern until you die. You can choose a different story. But—and here’s the rub—it’s on you to write it. No one’s coming to kick your door down and drag you into a life you love. That’s your job.
So here’s my challenge: Get brutally honest about what you want your life to look like, not what you think is possible, or what’s “practical.” What actually matters to you? What would it look like to do work that makes you proud, or to build friendships that matter, or to wake up with a sense of purpose—even if it’s tiny at first? Write it down. Make it real.
And then? Take one step. Not ten, not fifty—just one. Sign up for a class, make a phone call, go for a walk in a new part of town, schedule coffee with someone interesting. Start somewhere, anywhere, but start.
Acceptance isn’t the same as surrender. You can accept your circumstances without giving up on hope. You’re not dead yet, friend. As long as you’re breathing, there’s more life to be lived. The next chapter is yours to write. Make it count.