…both metaphorically and literally.
I’ve been out of work since the abdominal drama a while back, and it’s made me think hard about what I want out of life and how I got turned around. Mostly this is an internal dialogue, but I just put this in for those who know what I am talking about.
I had prospects, great prospects, and I took a few off ramps, mostly for other people. My family gives me shit for not coming through, but mostly it was for them. I missed a lot, the world changed, I missed them. Now, it’s a thousand years later, and I’m being cryptic on wordpress because I can’t talk to them about it. Excuses, they’d say. Or so it goes in my head.
Perfectionism is something I inherited, and I often feel like I’m never doing enough. And now I feel like my friends and family are passing me by, while I stand wondering what happened.
Most people outside the situation give me reassurance in the form of, “Hello, you just went through a series of surgeries, which are major life events”. And part of my answers that, and part of me doesn’t hear it, or can’t hear it. So, I’m the black sheep, the disappointment… and when I try to paint my wool, you can see right through it.