Bogged Down

I am fucking stuck. Everything is a mess, and I can't seem to get out of my own way. I am a writer who is farming cranberries for a living, only because that is what I thought I was supposed to do. My great-great grandfather was a farmer in Hyannis, MA. He found the ultimate specialty crop in the great American cranberry, and I continue the cause four generations later. They say any business is lucky to survive the second generation, so by that standard we have exceeded all expectations. The problem is not the long term sustainability of the diminutive vaccinum macrocarpon, alas the problem is me. I have lost all interest in what I do, the thrill is gone. I guess I grew up with a romantic notion of sliding easily into the helm of the business, sailing off to a life of privilege and ease. Who knew I would get bored and frustrated long before the captains chair was earned? I am now trapped by financial security, attachment to material goods, a life of cushions. My greatest problems lie in the ease with which I pass through life. I was reading a description of the Myers-Briggs personality type INFP, my personality type, and the danger zone for my type is a life blessed with money or good looks. How about ego? It didn't mention that, but I have a feeling that doesn't help much either. So I am a writer who does not write, who cannot get beyond the first paragraph without getting distracted or bored. I have zero follow through, and very little interest in anything at this point in my life, aside from my usual morose narcissism. Too bad I would never consider offing myself, it would probably be better than existing like this.