for just a moment, suppose:

i'm not "figuring things out." i'm living my life and doing the work of it. having the fun of it. learning how to enjoy it without guilt. learning how to grind without self-pity. learning how to suffer - brilliantly, rather than angrily - growing and dying and breathing and going, going, going.

there's nothing for me to apologize for.  at least not in this regard.  so what if my title is humble and my needs are few?  i look out the window onto my street and reach for my coffee and feel so lucky.  i drempt of this moment for so many years. now that i have it, i will not erase my delight in it by allowing the opinions and preferences of others more weight than my own.  i have my own expectations for myself and my own private demons to corral. i have no excuses to offer for my behavior.  i accept full responsibility.  if i have been mean, i say i'm sorry.  but to thwart another's expectations is not an act of cruelty. i do not say i'm sorry for being a waitress, for spending long mornings scribbling in my diary, for plucking a guitar badly.  my title is humble and my needs are few.  i am a happy woman.