Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Moderate existential crisis mode activate!

I still don't get it.

I'm only human.

Just a person.

Ugly sack of mostly water, to quote some non-organic lifeforms from Star Trek: The Next Generation.



Well, beyond being a human person, I'm a female human person. Who works in a STEM field. I work in IT, supporting software engineers. Among other things that divide me out from the other seven billion human beings on this planet.

I've done the math — according to the statistics I'm a rounding error, something that shouldn't exist, an improbability of an order of magnitude that the Invisible Pink Unicorn has a higher likelihood of existing than I do.

I'm still coming to terms with the fact that I'm not fungible. I have an inherent worth that I cannot even begin to comprehend. The people who like and love me remind me of this, but after almost thirty years of being a more or less interchangeable meatsack I'm still having a hard time accepting it.

Surely, there must be other compassionate, enthusiastic people willing to support geeks and nerds in their daily endeavors operating Macintosh computers in my immediate community. Surely there must be other people as driven, perfectionistic, and caring as I am.

And then I realize, maybe there aren't. Maybe I really am special. Maybe I have a purpose and place in this world.

…And I curl up into a ball, terrified that I could hold such a position, such application, and such use in this world.

To truly be unique, to be special, to have a place.

I've spent my whole life hoping, wishing, and striving for it.

And now I'm utterly terrified.

It's what I want, and yet I still feel like an impostor.

I keep expecting that at any moment I'll wake up, still be in college, still working a job where I'm utterly replaceable, with no real future to speak of, but goddamnit, I can express that in three "real" languages and several internet ones.

The transition from Impostor to DaSein is daunting. So daunting I'm quaking. Terrified that what people are assuming is me is at best a hollow simulacra, a philosophical zombie clockwork orange, terrified of deceiving other minds.

I realize I over intellectualize all of this, that my fears are primarily ungrounded.

But holy shit. To spend most of your life being worthless, only to discover you may as well be gold pressed latinum to Ferengi?

It's mindblowing. I think it might've broken me.

So, to those of you who support me: I have no words for how thankful I am. I can't take you for granted. I refuse to. All I can do is ask that you endure with me having this moderate existential crisis and remember, I'm not used to this. It's breaking my brain.

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