Fear of Success?

Fear of Success
Is that a thing?
Because, if it is, I think I have it…
I start out feeling motivated
But then I think about the “consequences” of my motivation
How busy do I want to be?
… … …
I don’t even like talking on the phone.
And face-to-face?!? That’s a different story altogether!
Are these excuses because I am afraid?
Afraid of something I know nothing about?
There are other things I started in my life that worked out okay
How do I know that I won’t be good at this, too?
Just because I don’t have a “knack” for it in the beginning doesn’t mean I won’t take to it later
Starting a new job is always a challenge
Starting a new CAREER is a big change
Change hurts
Change is SCARY!
Change is necessary
The caterpillar doesn’t even know it’s going to change and look out how glorious it’s change is!
It simply builds a cocoon
And then starts being something else entirely
It’s probably hard at the beginning
But the caterpillar learns how to be a butterfly
Because it HAS to
My Psychotic Break (Part 2)

My Psychotic Break (Part 2)

To read Part 1, click HERE

After all that bullshit, we didn’t have another interaction for 6 days.

And it’s the 5th week of barely any contact…

On that Friday afternoon, he sent me a text. “You won’t believe it, but I hyperextended my knee playing basketball last night.”

He was right. I didn’t believe it…

“Oh, that’s terrible,” I answered.

There were a few more trite comments where I tried to be nice and pretend like I gave a shit.

Then our chat was over.

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He’s Gone

He’s gone. I shouldn’t be so sad anymore.

But I am.

He’s gone. I should feel relief instead of loneliness.

But I don’t.

He’s gone. I need reach out to others for support.

But I can’t.

He’s gone. I still hate myself for being so stupid.

But I’m not.

He’s gone. So, why am I still broken?

Because he never refilled my cup.

After drinking so selfishly from it…

My Psychotic Break (Part 1)

My Psychotic Break (Part 1)

After I told all you folks that I was completely done with Alaska and never ever in a million years going to take him back,

I took him back.

I was so ashamed that I couldn’t write about it.

Just like all those other times before I stopped writing because of him.

Because I didn’t want to hear your objections.

Because you were right.

And at the end end of it all, I ultimately broke.

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My Stolen Self

I hate you for stealing me from myself

I am so broken that all I can see is the ugly in people

Taking advantage of those who are generous

Lying, cheating and stealing to get what they want

Or to hurt someone deeply


And I am becoming that person

I’ve lost my trust

My willingness to help

It’s so hard to be nice

To remember that everyone has a story I don’t know

My heart used to be eager


But it’s dead now

Or maybe in a coma