I know my situation must be desperate. An advertisement for a self-help book popped up in my Facebook feed. “Even a damn behavior-based social media algorithm knows I’m depressed. How depressing,” I thought.

Then I tapped on the ad, which took me to the iBooks store on my phone where I bought a digital copy of the book.

Before you judge too harshly let me defend myself. First, the e-book only cost $2.99. I spend more on Monster energy drinks every day!  The book’s title is also pretty catchy. Have you ever heard of  “You are a Badass” by Jen Sincero?

I feel like the furthest thing from a badass in my life right now. I’m convinced I’m a burden; that I will never reach my potential; that I will forever be alone; and, please don’t tell anyone else this because the amount of pity I’d receive would be too much, I know I’m too acutely ADHD, emotionally damaged and old to really change or ever truly be happy.

By the way, I am 41. See, OLD.

Anyway, the book’s title appealed to me because I probably need someone to tell me that I am a badass. Pathetic.

Bonus justification: The book received mostly four or five-star reviews. Maybe this Jen person knows something. Or perhaps I am far from alone in my perpetual self-seeking. I’m kind of leaning toward the latter.

So, yes. It (being my current state of mind) is bad.

I can’t sleep. I’ve packed on a gross amount of weight. Any level of teasing from others stings with the weight of damning proof of just how worthless I am.

And sometimes I think I’m just so damn tired I just want the bad thoughts and emotions to STOP. That sobering thought scares me enough to put my game face on and go out into the world. I choose to grind out one more day and see what happens next.

And then I buy a self-help book on a whim because I’m that desperate for some sort of change.