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Sometimes~ it's never quite enough.

If you're flawless

Then you'll win my love

Don't forget to win 1st place

Don't forget to keep that smile on your face…

Be a good boy

Try a little harder

You've got to measure up

Make me prouder.

How long before you screw it up?

And how many times do I have to tell you

To hurry up?

With everything I do for you

The least you can do

Is keep quiet!

Be a good girl

You've got to try a little harder

That simply wasn't good enough

To make us proud.

I'll live through you, I'll make you what I never was

If you're the best, maybe so am I

Compared to him

Compared to her

I'm doing this for your own damn good!

What's the problem?!

Why are you crying?!

Be a good boy

Push a little farther now

That wasn't fast enough

To make us happy.

We'll love you~ just the way you are

If you're perfect.

~Alanis Morissette; "Perfect"

This is my life growing up. This is how I always felt. My mom always wanted the best for me, but she did it in a way that nothing less than the best from me was unacceptable. So even though I was miserable, I put on that happy face…took all honors classes all of the time, recieved the best grades ( a B was a bad grade) and fought and clawed my way to the top of everything I was involved in. Concertmaster (1st chair 1st violinist) for middle school, high school, college. Part of the elite choir in middle school and high school, winning all the solo parts to my dismay and the hatred from my fellow singers. I never fit in anywhere because everywhere I went I was seen as a "hot shot" orcompetition. The first time I failed a class in high school I was grounded until for more than a month. Nevermind that I'd had 3 deaths in the family in a 6 week time period and that I was fighting with my first severe depressive episode. There was no time for that b.s. and I needed to pull it together or I was going to ruin my chances at college for good!

This was my life.My mom had it all planned out for me since the day I showed interestand ability in music. I would go to college and become a virtuoso violinist,because my grandmother hadbeen denied that privilege by her own parents because they decided the life of a musician was not acceptable for a woman. She should become a teacher or nurse. So she put down her violin and never played again. Instead she took up piano, but she spent the rest of her lifeembittered about what should have been. So it wasMY job to right the wrongs of the past, to carry on that torch of what should have been. And because I craved my mother's love so badly, her acceptance and affection (which she had a very hard time giving due to her own childhood) I accepted it as part of life, as completely normal. I suffered severe self-esteem issues most ofmy life, feelings of failure and being a charlatan, having no right to earnthe things I did even though I did accomplish them.

But it left me empty inside. There wasa gigantichole in me that noamount of accomplishment could ever fill up. Nothing made me happy really. All through college I fought with myself about the path my life was taking. I was so tired of the intense competitive atmosphere, the constant dislike by my peers, the ugly jealousy that surrounded any praise oracclaim that I recieved. Theprofessional music world was absolutelybrutal, and I didn't want to take it anymore. I had dealt with it since I was 7 years old, and by the time I reached 24, I was burned out.

Don't get me wrong~ I did love the music, I did love to play violin. But it brought up somany conflicting emotionsin me that often I'd avoid public venues and performances because it made me angry and feel like I was still that puppet on the string.

Even my Dad played a part in the whole thing. I believed in my heart that if I was good enough, if I was the best, then he would come back and be a father again, love me again. It neverhappened. And like my mother but much worse so, he would point out cruelly every mistake, every "poor" choice I made; from men to clothes to my weight and music. Tothis dayhe is still that critical, cold man mostof the time. I pierced mynose with a smallruby stud over Christmas this past year~ and he tore me apart about it; how ugly and unattractive it made me, along with my tattoo and lackof concern aboutmyweight. That wasthe last time I visited him.

Sadly for me, my beautiful nose ring didnot last. My body rejected it and I had to take it out and let it close. It felt like my bodyeven criticized my choices about what I thought beautiful was.

Last night I finally had it with my Mom. I was in the middle of cooking dinner with her, and I made a comment about whether or not I shouldtry to go back to work next week despite my foot issue (I'm standing and walking the whole shift)~ and she just sighed and said "Well I guess you'll just loseanother job then."

Ilooked at her evenly and said~"It's never going to be enough for you, isit? No matter what I do I'll never have you're approval will I?".

She lookedat me for a moment, and then dropped her eyes from my furious gaze. She quickly walked awayandthen came back and pretended it never happened.

I have to get out of this house. I need to leave permanently. But I don't know how. God help me please!


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