Last week was a bitch. I am so happy it's over. I had put my life on hold for the last 5 months for this special project I was working on; I didn't realize that until yesterday, when I woke up in my own bed and for the first time in months, didn't have something weighing on my mind. I laid in my bed feeling weightless. It was a great feeling. Who am I kidding - it was a fucking amazing feeling.

I'm not dreading going into work tomorrow. I've been showing up filled with dread for months, feeling overwhelmed and wondering how I would make it happen, what I would do if it didn't happen right. Nursing the pulsing notion that my big idea could fail in an even bigger way and that would be no one's failure but mine.

I'm not really a team player. As much as I laud other people's work and cheer them on, something I've never learned to do is share my failure. For me, failure is something that is very real, and very scary and very much all my fault. All the time.

My father used to call me the martyr when I was younger. Everything was happening to me and only me. He also used to call be Sarah Bernhardt because I was overly dramatic about everything. As I got older I learned to internalize my martyrdom, so as to appear laid back and not get called out on it. Nobody wants to deal with the martyr, so why be her? And if you can't not be her, then at least let everyone think you are someone better. Enter: Partygirl, stage right.

I saw "Love Actually" tonight. I found myself clenching during the Laura Linney scenes and unknowingly making comments under my breath, until my roommate leaned over and whispered, "What are you talking about - this is how you live your life!" I whispered back, "I know and it's too painful to watch someone else live it this way too." It's bad enough with me living it let alone watching it. That conversation she had with Alan Rickman, "Well, have you talked to Carl yet?" Uggh. Lots of people have had that conversation with me. I hate that I didn't get resolution on her storyline. The lack of resolution is an extension of this way of life, this state of emotional paralyzation.

I don't know how I got here. I really don't. My roommate and I spoke about it today. It isn't like I bared my soul and some guy said to me, I don't like you. Maybe that happened and I buried it, but there's nothing that I can remember. Still, I'm scared shitless of taking that leap. Of trusting someone. Of having trust broken. Of being rejected. I know what I have to do about it. I just don't know how.

I'm going to need some help taking the leap. I need someone who can help me stop getting in my own way.

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