Day One. A Book Can Make Me Cry

I'm at this weird place in my life.
I've been living in NYC for 9 years. Came here to be a performer, now I'm a writer.
Which reminds me of the scene in Annie Hall where the main character is wondering what happened to the kids in his grade school class, and the little girl stands up and says "I used to be a heroin addict, now I'm a methadone addict."
I'm struggling. Aren't many of us? Details to follow. Someday.

Point is, I used to go to therapy and just get into massive debt.
But I can't do that anymore. I'm at the midpoint, and looking forward with like what? 6K in retirement funds.

So, I'm going to try having a "good cry".
Every day. It's free.
Instinct tells me it's going to give me some emotional release and maybe I'll learn something.

Today, I was reading "Happiness" by Matthieu Ricard and Daniel Goleman.
Sitting on the subway, tears arrived while I read about people who can sustain inner peace despite years of unbelievable suffering.

But this is not my "good cry" for the day. That's later. After unbearable money job is over.
Details to follow. Some day.