A word came to me as I was about to go to bed last night. That word was dissatisfaction. I feel that most of the time. I believe that that was one of the things that connected my ex husband and I as a mentor of ours had said to me decades ago. He said we were tied by misary. When he had made that statement, I was naturally offended.At the time he was my boyfriend, and I listened to his story with an ear of wonder and wanting to comfort him. But now, I see that connector. I see it because I am always at odds with myself. I cannot recall a time where I was satisfied with myself fully. I am also so conscious about everything to do with me. The way that I look. What I say. How I feel. I worry constantly about putting the right foot forward in a conversation. What happened last week really set an example for me to be more mindful of and challenged everything that I think that I am. This year I have also had a moment where I questioned whether I should just quit my field! I was just overwhelmed and devastated by the constant juggling to make ends meet. Even as I write right now, I know that I shall not ultimately achieve what I set out to in my psycho-analysis because I am writing from within a framework of so much bias and hurt that the most I can expect is to observe this and to do my best to do better. Does dissatisfaction help propel me forward? Perhaps? It has its advantages. Without it I may become so set in my ways, so comfortable that I might not strive to do better.