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I can’t keep being as miserable as I am. And, I have absolutely no idea where that leaves me.

My dearest friend in Chicago offered me a room in her condo with free food and use of her car for a few months while I figure my life out. It was a sweet offer, and one I immediately dismissed. I didn’t consider it for a single second. As the words were coming out of her mouth, I blew them off as ludicrous and unfathomable. She was being totally serious and I was laughing.

In my mind, I have to tough it out where I am. I’m not sure what, exactly, I’m trying to prove, or to whom I’m trying to prove it. Once again, I need to rethink my idea of what it means to succeed or fail in my life. I seem to be using someone else’s definition, and it is not serving me well.

I’m not convinced moving back to Chicago is the answer for me. I don’t have an answer tonight. I can’t keep screaming or crying in my car on the way to and from work. I can’t keep walking around like the grumpiest person on the planet. I can’t keep being this tired or feeling this alone. It makes for a life that I have no interest in living.

I don’t know how to be happy.

I don’t know if happy is the point.

I’m lost. I have been for a really long time.

I’m not sure how much it matters where I am or who is around me. I felt worse in San Francisco and I supposedly had a community there. I had some support, anyway.

People who want only good things for me, keep talking to me about reaching out more or moving somewhere I can reach out more. I despise this desert, but I’m not willing to leave it yet. I don’t know what is keeping me here. If its martyrdom like I learned from my mom, attachment to suffering, fear of failure, or some deep wisdom that makes no sense to anyone else, but will make perfect sense in hindsight. In other words, I don’t know whether or not to trust myself. I don’t know if I am trustworthy.

I was told I was sick for a really long time. I was told repeatedly that I can’t trust my instincts, that my instincts will almost always take me down a self-destructive path. I was told to be very careful and very wary, especially when it comes to things like not wanting to be around people or to talk to people. I was told this is called “isolating,” and it’s not only very bad for someone like me, it’s possibly deadly.

How do I know now who is right? How do I know now if I’m trustworthy yet?

As much as I loathe uncertainty, I don’t think I can know for sure. I think it’s just a choice I make. And, for better or worse, I choose me. [I just rubbed my hands over my face and muttered, “God help me.”]