Comfortably numb?

The evenings are already getting shorter and I feel cheated- like I have not had a summer. All my spare time this year has been spent in the suburbs of London dealing family problems as has all my spare money. I can't remember when I last saw a mountain or the sea.
Right now I have a whole group of clients all wanting work doing in short time spans. All delivering their work late but wanting it back by the deadlines they originally requested. Eight days a week- that's my work schedule at the moment. But hey, the financial debts incurred by contracting into, and furnishing, an office and a flat within eight months of each other are finally dissappearing. As are the emotional ones of having made those commitments in the false comfort of having met someone with whom I thought poetry was really possible.
I'm becoming relatively successful (or at least proficient) and also incredibly cynical. I have a feeling that I have lost track of my goals. Yes, I have a stable home, a business that pays my bills and most of all a businesss where people come to ask me to work for them. All that is good. But I have given up much hope of changing the world, of buying a little smallholding in France or of finding true love. I don't work for free for good causes any more, have very little involvement with the organic revolution and don't give away my heart so easily. I don't know whether that makes me a better or a worse person- or a happier or less happy one. There are less obstacles now - but less dreams too.
September I hope to be in Snowdonia, climb a few mountains, get some fresh air in my lungs, take some time to review this all.