I do not hope to turn again

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[walled-garden. Please don’t talk about this outside of here.]

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessèd face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again

T.S. Eliot, “Ash Wednesday

I haven’t felt much like writing lately. Just been in my own personal hell, where it’s difficult to say anything, and the things to say are just…well, they seem pointless. And I’m scared to death of anybody figuring it out. But I’ve got to write this down or I think I’m going to explode.

In therapy, we’ve figured out a large chunk of the problem. I don’t see anything good about myself.

This might be confusing, so let’s take an example. I have a master’s degree from UC Berkeley — most of you know this. Objective fact. However, I see it as a nice little pat on the head and a ‘thanks for trying!’ sort of parting gift, because I feel like I failed in my master’s program. I know that some of this is depression talking. However, I also screwed up my relationship with my advisor (in all fairness, he shouldn’t have been my advisor, but he was a new prof and they had to give him some advisees, and I thought he was closely aligned with my interests, when the fact was that he wasn’t) and spent my time not managing to piece together a coherent program — so I know a little about several different things in information management, but I don’t know any one thing good enough to be hired for it. So there. Master’s degree? Well, yeah, but FAIL.

This then feeds into a resume, and why I get terrified any time I’m called on to write my bio. How do I pimp myself when I’m absolutely fucking convinced I’m not worth anybody’s time or effort? How do I get a better job when I’m sure nobody will want me?

This is where I am right now, and it’s leading to one hell of an existential crisis. And unfortunately, it’s not one of the cool ones with candles and epic works of art. The point of it? I don’t know what to do, and I don’t know how to fix it. My therapist suggests faking it until I make it, but that feels like lying, and well, I’m semi-convinced people can see that I’m faking it. You know, because I’m an epic failure.

…and I know this is kinda disjointed, and I know, logically, that I’m worth a whole lot more than I give myself credit for. But I can’t seem to get the two pieces to connect. I know they’ve got to, somewhere, but no matter which way I rotate the pieces…

Yeah, so any advice you can give me would be listened to. Of course, I’m kinda lost in a depressive state at the moment, so being very careful to steer clear of stuff that looks like “Think happy thoughts and you’ll get over it!” because that just suceeds in (a) pissing me off and (b) making me more depressed.

Anyway. Sorry about the disjointed rambly nature of this post. I just…yeah. I’m lost, lonely, and broken, and I don’t know where to go or what to do.

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