Running on Empty at 7:39 a.m.

The challenges of being unemployed. The challenges of being out of a job. I’m now sipping a cup of coffee from the espresso machine that is placed on top of a shelf, now sitting at the back of the living room. I’m writing these words at 07:39 a.m., Madrid. They don’t really make sense.

Yesterday I recorded a video, not sure if I want to post it or not. It’s about the challenges of being out of a job, getting older, and being a single dad. The obstacles of leaving the family home, living by myself, with an eight-month-old baby. The volume on that video was very low, and I’ll probably not publish it.

I woke up at 5:30 a.m. I’ve been waking up at that time every single day for the past couple of weeks. Some days even earlier. I’m trying to keep physically active, going out on my mountain bike that I managed to restore. It belonged to my father. I keep saying this, not sure why, as if it adds meaning, considering I didn’t have a close relationship with my father. But it was his bike, and most of the time I rode it. I brought it back to Spain in ’99, and I’ve used it many times, even to go to work.

I had a job interview last week. Maybe that’s why I’m concerned. I’m worried I won’t last until the end of the month, with all the debt I’ve accumulated. My mother is helping me out, my friend is helping me out. I’ve started selling things I’m not using. I’ve self-diagnosed that I have a problem: this constant need for affection has led me to uncontrolled consumption. Even when I had money, I spent it all on stuff—podcast gear, gadgets—but at the end of the day, I never managed to get the full potential out of any of it. I feel empty. No motivation to keep going. No energy.

I reflect on the many life-changing choices I made, always believing they were the best choices at the time. I wish I knew earlier about my human design; it says I should never make decisions in the heat of the moment. And yet, most decisions I’ve taken were impulsive.

At this point in my life, I’m reflecting, trying not to regret these choices. It’s never good to look back with regret. But sometimes… just sometimes, I do.