I could…

I could complain about how things haven’t worked out very well and aren’t currently where I want them to be.

I could keep berating myself for not breaking away from the supposedly “helpful and caring” people who, very effectively, reinforced the idea that I would never be “good enough.” That, despite my best intentions, I would always be wrong simply because I was different and also a nobody.

I could gripe about my assertive, extroverted boyfriend’s offhanded comments, and tell him that after years of emotional torture, his comments are hurtful, and as a matter of fact, ABSOLUTELY NOT FUNNY.

I could write a whole book on my family’s disapproval of all my incredibly brief, unsuccessful attempts to stand up to powerful, “omniscient” authority figures.

I could criticize the vast majority of people who have reinforced the entirely false concept of all-encompassing forgiveness.

I could constantly criticize myself for typing up this crummy list.

I could give up.

I could be more grateful.

I could be less critical and judgmental.

I could stop bemoaning the lack of acceptance I receive and start forming my own self-acceptance.

I could ignore my experiences and pretend they have no current relevance.

I could keep going and ascribe to the philosophy I have taken up when I am in the midst of struggling: “ I do what is necessary to survive.”

The answer I usually get to that statement is: “Survival is not living.”

The question is: “When does surviving end and living start?”

Due to my current circumstances, I am in a position where survival needs to be enough(It’s difficult).

When I make it to a position where I can start living instead of just surviving, I can honestly say that I probably won’t even know where to start, but it will be a new, and hopefully, rather enjoyable experience.

Thanks for reading… It’s probably not that great, but I felt like writing(well, technically) typing it up.


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