Last Thursday afternoon, while sitting in my cluttered home office in Seattle, I found myself paralyzed by a LinkedIn notification rather than an Instagram post. As a freelance copywriter struggling with a dry spell - staring down an inbox void of new contracts and a pile of unpaid invoices - seeing a former colleague's "Work Anniversary" post at a Fortune 500 company felt less like news and more like an indictment of my career choices. It wasn’t a casual scroll; it was a visceral hit to my gut. The rain was hammering against the window, matching my internal grayness, as I read through the comments congratulating him on his stability, his benefits package, and his "impact." Meanwhile, I was sitting there in sweatpants at 2:00 PM, drinking lukewarm coffee from an unwashed mug, wondering if I had made a catastrophic mistake leaving the corporate ladder to build something of my own. I wasn't just jealous of his job; I was questioning the validity of my entire path because his looked so much more "blessed" on paper. I fell into the trap of auditing God’s management of my life using someone else’s metrics as the benchmark.
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