My friend LK and I have been best friends since high school, which is more years ago than I care to recall.

She wrote me a letter yesterday complaining about broken pipes and no hot water, pilot lights going out, etc. She apologized for complaining; just needed to get it off her chest.

I swear, she is so adorable. She thinks that is complaining.

From the Letter I wrote LK today:

I have officially missed all the deadlines for Master's programs starting fall of 2005. So I’m not getting out of this horrid employment situation anytime soon.

I am so desperate to get out of this soul-sucking, stress-elevating, life-eating job. I have been very close to simply shoving my belongings into a $50/month storage cube downtown and moving back to IL with my parents, so I can live rent-free for awhile, get out of debt, and try to start my life over again. But... I can't bring myself to leave. I love my apartment and my neighborhood and my friends and my life here too much. So... I just keep plugging away. I'm still applying for jobs... but I'm getting absolutely nothing, no feedback, no responses, etc. Right now I just see another year of my life sliding away while I continue to scrape by, living a fraction of life at a time. Every time I think I can't take much more of this, I blink my eyes and another 6 months has gone by. Thinking positively, I can take much more than I ever imagined. Thinking more commonly, years are passing. No career. No family. Nothing that I own really worth anything. Nothing to show for my 8 years in New York... Life experience? I can't eat that, drive it, sleep under it, or pay bills with it. So far, my obituary reads: "The only remarkable thing about this woman's life was that she lived 8 years in New York and never once attended the Village Halloween parade."

I have struggled with the "F" word for years, ever since I stopped auditioning. I've never been able to reconcile my personal small comforts and ongoing search for fulfillment with my fears that I've disappointed others, that I let people down by abandoning the arts, that I have basically become a loser. I fight all the time to not feel that everyone sees me as a flighty drifter who's blown everything she's ever tried. There's a part of me that sees myself that way, because I'm so disappointed and disillusioned.

The dissolution of the company I used to work for has rocked my world more than I can say. For most people in New York it was September 11th that made them feel unsafe, that nothing was permanent, not home, family, love, nothing. For me, it was the sale of my company. I had finally found the perfect job, with one of the longest-standing, well-established "empire" companies in the world... destroyed by one greedy man who sold people's livelihoods, ruined retirement plans, and ended careers, so he could (try to) hang out with movie stars. I counted my lucky stars that the company he sold us to hired me. At the time, any job seemed better than no job at all.

I have been trapped at the job I have now ever since. I never imagined things would be this bad.

I hope that filthy elitist wanna-be never gets a good night's sleep for the rest of his life.

In case you're wondering, the "F" word is "Failure."

Also struggling with the disillusionment of a man who seemed to enjoy making me blissfully happy, and then abruptly stopped once we were engaged, a husband who left me fend for myself all the time, a marriage that I became desperate to escape, which I had once seen as a safe haven... My marriage was, absolutely, the biggest disappointment of my life. I have never tried so hard to make something work and felt so sabotaged. I gained 30 pounds being with that unhealthy, gluttonous man. I don't trust anything a man says to me anymore, because they all say the same things in the beginning. I want very much to be married again, and to have a child, but don't know how on Earth I will ever feel satisfied or fulfilled. I want too much.

I thank the gods for my ability to be in touch with my emotions and not be afraid of them. I feel entitled to my feelings, and not afraid to write about them or talk about them. I am honest, and I believe I am realistic about how to go about living what’s left of this life. I try very hard every day to recognize that I am still , by many people’s estimation, young. I manage. I am paying down debt, meeting living expenses, being as good a friend as I would like to have, and learning how to date again. I go to church and moon circles and constantly have "How is everybody" sessions with close friends, long conversations, etc. I know I am not the only person with disappointments, disillusionment, and a many-times taped-back-together heart. It helps to laugh with friends over coffee about that.

I still eat well and am proud of that. I don't shop anymore, because I really believe I don't need anything. I have begun to ask for more things, and usually am glad I did. I appear to have survived something huge.

2003 was a year to recover. Hopefully 2004 will be a year to rebuild.