Have you ever built something and made a mistake? Have you ever worked hard on something and the requirements and need for it change? Have you ever been far along a path and suddenly the road ends?

In engineering, we talk about how to mitigate these types of issues. It is less costly to pivot in the early stages of a product than when you are almost done, especially if it means starting over. It’s the spirit behind “measure twice, cut once”.

It is also like that in life.

I started off this November gungho about writing about my mother’s passing. I knew it would be hard but I did not forsee a multitude of other commitments, most of which I wish didn’t exist like my masters or work (both of which are holdovers from a past life that I can’t quite shake), and personal ones I feel like I can’t turn down, like outings and budding friendships. I also neglected to remember that it is one year since everything that I was working towards in life and been doing ended.

I have never really had a passion or desire for my life. I didn’t grow up with a dream. I didn’t grow up working towards something. I never really had a childhood to explore the possibilities and learn about myself. I had to just be, fully formed, with the semblance of freedom. I decided in high school that if was to be unhappy that I would take the path of least resistance. The highest paying course with minimal effort. I used to think that I was passionate about it but Stanford beat that out of me. (I know a lot of people that Stanford was a glowing experience for them. I hated those years.) I basically gave up on my life when I was 19, only just skating by in my early twenties.

My life felt like it was for others. I felt like I had no choice. Had I been in a better mental state, had a support system outside of my immediate family, had less turmoil in said family, and was nice to myself, I might have had more options. Then I saw the path, I was to care for my parents until my mother died and then build a life with my fiance who had a clear vision of what he wanted. With him, I’d have a support system to finally have the freedom to explore what I wanted to do in life.

And then, one night, that all went away. My decade long caregiving task had ended and my future left me while I was in a miserable existence I only stayed in for our future. I had put things on hold for a future that vanished in one night. That night I hit a bottom I hope to never see again but left the past me there as determined I needed to rebuild.

I’ve been rebuilding for a year. Not to the extent I want. I wasn’t able to quit and explore what I wanted. I still am not financially able to explore things I wish I could have when I was a teenager (when you can experiment). I didn’t burn all my cash and wander into the Alaskan forest where I’d later freeze in a bus (Into the Wild meant a lot to me as a teenager and I wished I was that brave but also, he dies, so I wasn’t quite ready to make that type of choice). I chased after people that were bad for me, let myself get blamed, found myself in repeated patterns, was angry, and made some rash decisions I wholly regret.

Now, I sat alone at Disneyland of all places and felt that same dread wash over me. This time I let myself cry and turned to social media, you know the healthy thing (but still healthier than saying goodbye to your family and then sitting with a bottle of whiskey crying yourself out of a one time decision (okay, enough euphemisms, I wanted to kill myself and would have it my dad didn’t show up at my door. Thanks again, Dad). I let the dread of unhappiness, dissatisfaction, and the inability to cope or turn to a single soul fill me. Maybe not let, I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t see it coming and I audibly questioned where the hell it came from.

I’m still not on a design I like or see working out. I never liked the design to begin with. I hate the design. And that hate has left me miserable and alone. I sit and think about all the good I have in me: the kind words, the warm soul, the artistic side, intelligence, the ability to still be alive at 27 with what appears to be a good, solid, happy life when I wanted to die at the age of 8 and told my parents that the worse thing they did to me was give birth to me. (Seriously, what 8 year old, watching Jeopardy, reading about archeology, says that to their parents while drinking a goddamn mocha with real coffee…) I’m one of the hardest people you could meet because I protect my squishy interior. Also, I lost 85lbs on my own while dealing with an autoimmune disorder that left me with a permanently numb shin, chronic inflammatory flairs, and joints that pop as loud as gunshots (hell yeah!).

I think of all of that but I still think about how desperate I am for friendship. How personally I take others living their lives and not including me. How my one friend has told me that sometimes I’m too much to handle and actively avoids me because I’m too depressing. Once she suggested it might just feel that way because I don’t have multiple people to talk so I overload unlike her (which hurt. I’d like to have more than three contacts I actually use in my phone). How I can’t get my brain to focus on anything and reason through problems I know I’m smart enough to figure out. That I hear people say that things will get better but wonder how do you know, I have no evidence and what does better even mean. (I also hate being told to do something. Sometimes I like the stubborn part of me, she gets shit done, but she also makes me snippy….it isn’t a good look).

I should find solace in myself. I know others are able to live with depression but I can’t help but look and hear them talk about how they have people they talk to and work with and the most social contact I’ve had is pestering my sister and going on a string of one time dates just to not be alone. I have worked so hard and made so many sacrifices for one person after living my life to care for another and neither are in my life anymore. I have a few ideas of how to improve my current situation but one I can’t financially afford and the second is completely out of my control. Patience can help in this situation and I’ve never been a patient person. I’m restless and like immediate results. It’s one way I drive people away.

Things might get better. They can be different. I just hope that one day, I’m not having to look to myself for comfort and can find someone (ideally more than one) that actively seeks out my company. Hell, I would like to just have a person sit at this table in silence with me. And a job that inspires me. And a doctor that listens to me…well, maybe two out of three for a start. Until then, I’m just “justing” for now. It’s more than I could in the past.

Or I move to Portland in an airstream and be a freelancer. Now that’s the type of hustle I wish I was brave enough to do.