Where does all the time go?

It's true...I have grown increasingly neglectful of this space. I'm sure, externally, it appears as though I simply no longer care. On the contrary, I am racked with guilt everytime I think about it. I'm not entirely sure why that is. Perhaps it reflects something deeper...a general sense of dissatisfaction regarding my own complacency? Sounds like something I would be guilty of, for sure...always my own worst critic.

My life over the last year or so has become far more centralized around day to day living, leaving little energy for the upkeep of this immaterial, intangible world. Yet, it haunts me...mocking me for being so completely engrossed that I can't find the time to type a few lines on occasion. I owe no apologies, yet I feel undeniably sorry for allowing such delinquency to persist. So...here I am, clumsily attempting to make amends for my imaginary wrong-doing. *Sigh*

So, now that I've got that confession out of the way, perhaps it would be prudent to actually write about something remotely interesting. What a novel idea! How about a glimpse into my current state of mind?

My thoughts at present:

My personal evolution has always been a subtle, undefinable thing. I'm sure there are those who would argue, but I feel that's generally true for just about everyone. Who can say what, precisely, effects a change in someone? I'm sure it's a plethora of things that collectively reshape you gradually. But every now and then something extraordinary happens and in one, pivotal moment you are forever transformed.

I can't recall ever being so keenly aware of life's truly altering moments AS THEY OCCUR. But that's the sense I've had for the last week. There are so many things cramming my skull full of contrasting emotions. I am simultaneously thrilled and terrified by a handful of possibilities. And what scares me most is that everything depends on my ability to nurture my own potential...something I have never been very good at.

I would've thought that, by 30, my need for external validation would have diminished. But, quite honestly, I still find it extremely difficult to believe that I am good enough or talented enough or worthy of praise. It's only after the adamant insistence of others that I can almost see the beauty in my creations. What is that about? I wonder if I'll ever outgrow this relentless perfectionism. It has cost me so much more than I can even begin to quantify. Retrospective evaluation of one's self can be brutally telling...particularly for one so predisposed to self-loathing as I.

I'm reluctant to specifically account for the various reasons behind my current mental upheaval as some superstitious part of me fears I might jinx it. So, for now, I've got my life on pause. I simply have to work a few things out in my head before I can move forward. I'm beyond ready to leave this crippling fear of failure behind and actually make something of myself. I just have to ensure that I have the proper footing first. At least I've learned that much.

I know I'm being horribly vague. I promise I'll be more revealing once I've sorted my self out. This...finally writing something down...has helped tremendously. Perhaps I should do so more often....