My therapist called my career a 'high-functioning trauma response' last week, and honestly, it rearranged my brain a little. I wonder if they know the price of that kind of function. It's not just the golden handcuffs; it's the hypervigilance that leaches into everything, the constant scanning for threats that never really go away, even on vacation. I'm only now learning to dial that down, to trust that the floor won't drop out from under me. The promotions felt like proof I was worthy of existing, and then, the higher I climbed, the more terrified I became that they'd find out I was faking it the whole time. Now I see that the 'faking it' was just masking—and the 'it' they'd find out was the scared kid still waiting for the other shoe to drop.