0628 EST

It's my second sunrise in one very long waking day. This time yesterday found me on the phone with knarphie planning out naughty good things to come, sprinkled with a few much needed moments of talking recent issues out calmly. The past few weeks have found us both to be emotional messes of sorts at incompatible times. Well, that and I haven't allowed myself to reach out to many people and ask for help if I've needed it. I haven't even allowed myself to help myself. The usual self-destructive patterns emerge: hole myself up in my apartment, minor discussions with acquaintances I've barely allowed friendships to form with, and mostly avoidance of the beacons I know I can reach out to in my life. But they're just gonna tell me the things I don't want to hear. They're gonna tell me that I'm capable. They're gonna tell me that I'm unique, and passionate, and lucky, and wonderful, and that they'll do anything they can to help, I just have to be proactive in getting my ass in gear. They're gonna tell me the good things that are supposed to boost my ego, and give me self-confidence, and remind me that I've been surviving away from the nest (which doesn't exist anymore, mind you) for over 2 years now and that I'm fortunate to be so self-aware and that I have a lot cut out for me.

Well folks, it's been a really really long time since I've believed this all about me. It's been a really really long time since I've trusted myself and been amazingly productive and successful and worked at even 75% of my potential. I put on a good face, yes. I'm a horrible optimist. I'm even looking at being homeless as being an adventure, of sorts. Keep myself on the go, won't be able to trap myself anywhere. Juices flowing, life is supposed to be invigorating. I'm so fucking scared. I don't even have a job yet, and that's my fault too.

I've had safety nets the past 5 years: The emotional caretaker of an ex-boyfriend/best friend, who thankfully can put aside our "healing from breakup" issues and listen to me if I really need him to. But it's really hard learning how to heal myself again. The job that wouldn't quit -- I was one of their top brains. They fired me with 2 months severance last January because only because I was late every day for 2.5 years, hired me back in March as a temp for more money and I got to set my own hours. They wanted to rehire me for a different position, but the CEO said it was against company policy. January found me out the door again, and this time I know it was for real. So, to anybody or anywhere I go after these, I'm going to have to work hard.

I hate to admit it, though. I guess I've tried to work hard on the relationship front. I guess that means I can probably work hard on the job front, too, eh? And I guess that means there's still that potential for success, eh?

*grumble*

Sleepiness returning to my eyes, but, an item of importance. Part of what kept me awake was watching 28 Days. There's a history of alcohol, drug, and gambling addiction in my family. I've had my share of sexual abuse. Seen emotional and physical abuse. I don't deny I'm prone, and that movie had me on the defensive all the way through. Crying, crying so hard because I know how important it is to ask for help. Crying because I never feel like it is okay to ask for help. I've dug this hole myself I can get myself out of it. I pack my bags, I carry them. And I sure as hell pack them heavy, anyone who's ever picked em up can tell you.

Fine. They're my bags. I know I'm not to be expecting a porter to come by and whisk them away for me. But I guess it wouldn't hurt to hand you one of the straps on my duffel bag, eh? It's the hardest thing in the world for a fiercely independent broken girl to admit she doesn't have to do it all alone.

I'm no 12-stepper, but I'm admitting I'm powerless and that my immediate life feels incredibly unmanagable. Now how the hell do I actually *ask* for help?

Time to attempt sleep again. Though, at this point, I wish I knew exactly where my 48 hour waking mark was. :)