I have never encountered a day like that before.  That has to have been the hardest day of my life.  A low-level panic attack while I’m at work, indecision surrounding my relationship with my boyfriend, and feeling utterly lost after having been turned-away for a job yet again due to the fact that I’m ‘not technical enough’… for a junior position.  It only seems fitting that almost everything I have tried to build should fall flat on its face in my life one-by-one.  There always seem to be a million reasons to take side-steps or slip backwards from where I am every time there’s a problem, but it seems like every time a solution presents itself, it turns into an exercise in frustration.

It seems as if a lot of days this year have turned into rolling bullshit festivals, from a friends’ husband’s birthday party to my fifth and most recent interview.  Every day that I come home, I walk on eggshells because I feel like every time that I open my mouth I will be judged or criticized.  I am not afraid of criticism.  As a matter of fact, I ask for it quite often.  Whether I remember it and I am able to act on it is something entirely different, but I ask all the same.  I suppose this is an out-growth of my dependence on external validation that what I am doing is right, correct, or ‘good’ to some degree or another.  I have not yet taken the time to build up my own reserve of inner-strength and guidance on what I do with my life.  I’m always seeking validation or praise from someone else and rarely myself.  This is probably something to do with the emotional and physical abandonment that I encountered in my early youth from friends and family.  So long as I was left alone with a computer, a stack of computer games, and unfettered access to high-speed internet, I was content… and for those validating my existence, as long as the psychological equivalent of the little green light didn’t change color, all was well.  Took me a decade to untangle this in my head and several failed relationships, but here’s the biggest problem with that logic: I wasn’t okay.  I was (and still am) far from okay.  There are a myriad of things I wish my parents and the people I would later befriend would have taken interest in with me: reading, acting, music, rock climbing, cooking… anything would have been sufficient so long as there would have been sufficient affection, even if it was bound platonically.

I suppose that’s where I’m at right now: on the border between knowing what would make others happy for me and what would make me happy.  This precipice is a frightening place.  It has no boundaries after the slight drop onto the rolling and vast expanse visible beyond.  There are no people in sight, nothing I can see but vast hills, trees, and mountains beyond.  Places I feel drawn towards.  Not as the draw of home tugs at the heart-strings, but as the draw of some place that lies beyond.

I feel as if I stand on a plateau that is crumbling the longer the stand upon it.  The question is: ‘what will I do now?’

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