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After everything I've messed up? I have no business charging that.
People like the ones who wronged me get to charge that. Not me.
The old me - before it all fell apart - could've said that number. Not who I am now.
Not yet. I'd need a lot more proof before I could say that out loud.
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I still replay what I could've done differently to stop it.
I still feel the anger at whoever - or whatever - took it from me.
I miss her. I'd go back to being her in a heartbeat.
I'm determined to earn my way back to where I was - and then some.
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Something I'm not sure I've earned the right to have after everything.
Something the people who hurt me get easily, and I don't.
A reminder of the security I lost. It makes me sad more than excited.
Something I have to keep proving I deserve, over and over.
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A quiet voice asking, "who are you to charge this?"
An old flare of "of course - nothing ever goes my way."
A wish that I still had the title or backing I used to have to close this.
An urge to pile on more bonuses so I've clearly 'earned' the yes.
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I don't feel like I deserve her after what happened.
It feels unfair that I have to rebuild while they got off free.
It means finally admitting the old me - and the old life - is really gone.
I don't feel ready. I haven't done enough to become her yet.
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... myself. For what I did, missed, or let happen.
... them. The people (or the system) that broke my life open.
... the loss itself. That it happened at all, and took who I was.
... that I have to start over and prove myself from scratch.
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Wait for the other shoe. I'm not sure I get to keep good things.
Half-expect it to be snatched away, like before.
Feel a strange grief - like it doesn't count without the old life around it.
Immediately raise the bar. Prove it wasn't a fluke.
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Guilt. A version of me I'm still punishing.
Resentment. A wound I'm still guarding.
Grief. An old identity I never got to bury.
Pressure. A belief that I have to earn my worth back before I'm allowed to rise.
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