This career thing ...

... is but one - albeit important - constituent of a general feeling of mild-to-moderate self-loathing and that my life is, and has been, pretty much a waste of time. There are so many different interdependent components that I'm really not sure where to begin making changes. And all the time, I'm ever so aware that I'm wasting yet more time, and that the time wasted will not only be wasted, but will harm my prospects still further because people will want to know why I was wasting time. And so on, and so forth. One of the avenues I need to consider is training as a psychologist, yet I still have a sneaking suspicion that I'm more cut out to be the patient than the clinician.

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Incidentally, in riposte to Marcel Berlins: my life doesn't feel distressing, just utterly pointless. (Note that it feels pointless, which doesn't necessarily mean that it is.) [Don't take that as notice of some kind of executive decision; I'm just saying.]

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Note to self: stop following every crisis with a return to inaction. Find a middle way in which action is taken without provoking groans, cries and howlings. [spot the Acis & Galatea quotation if you can, muahaha]