No rest for the neurotic

I swore to myself I would sit on the couch and rest my arms. I really did. Really.

But the silhouette of the pitcher was bothering me yesterday evening... and last night.... and this morning.... and early this afternoon... and my neurosis finally won around 4PM. After fiddling with this edge for nearly two weeks with no success, I also gave in and broke out the tracing paper. I really do love the right side. The curve seems perfect to me. I figure trace it, flip the paper over and voila! Easy peasy! But it seems that left edge is still bothering me though not enough to gnaw at the inside of my head.

The best part? I'm finding that I'm actually overjoyed that it wasn't as simple as that. For the first time since my pre-veterinary days, I'm not feeling a sense of utter failure and worthlessness that I'm having trouble figuring it out. For the first time in nearly 3 years, I'm seeing challenges to overcome and not giant holes in myself as a person.

I remember when I got my first organic chemistry exam back. The C- was sobering. This was an aluminum bat to the head that this was not the community college I'd come from. This was not some sort of romantic or nostalgic return to being 20 years old. This was Ivy League. This was the dream of a lifetime. This was serious. Heart attack serious. I worked harder. I went to the chemistry resource room study times. I'd go to professor and TA office hours. The next exam? C. Better! So I worked harder. I signed up for the free private tutoring from chemistry majors. I spent more hours in the library. I started walking back to my car well after dark. The third exam. C+. Still better!

I kept this unrelenting storm up for 3 long years until I was walking back to my car in the cold Ithaca winter when the library closed at 1AM. Always feeling, even though my grades had leveled into the B range, my hard would pay off. Only towards the end, when the rejection letters came did those B's I was working at least 100 hours a week for start to devastate me. It had finally dawned on me. Everyone had lied to me my whole life. Years of hard work, dedication and sacrifice don't always pay off. And it wasn't going to pay off for me.

As usual, life had shown me that my cold glass half empty attitude was right. Because not only is the glass half empty, someone is going to come along, drink the rest of the water and steal the empty glass. I became afraid. I became afraid of everything. I saw death and felt its presence everywhere. I didn't want to invest myself in anything again. I didn't want to chance it - working for anything again. The smallest flaw, the tiniest imperfection shined a giant spotlight on the biggest failure of my life.

Is this a ray of hope? Am I finally moving on? Could it be that my soul is finally starting to heal?