Can I make a request?

My true confession: On many days I'd like to be someone else. I'd like to request a new life - scrap this one and start fresh. Think that's possible? Perhaps not but some days it sounds like a great idea. I'm not exactly sure where the angst is coming from (could be too much She Wants Revenge for starters) but it's pervaded my entire life. I'm consumed with self-doubt on a daily basis - I worry I won't find an agent for my book, it won't get published, I won't find more freelance clients, I won't be able to quit my hateful job (yes I hate it, it's official..it only took 19 months this time which sets a new record for me) and I will continually be unfulfilled personally and professionally. Some days I let these doubts fill my head, cloud my expectations and generally wreak havoc on my inner confidence. A few weeks ago I had the unfortunate experience of speaking with my birth mother. For those of you who don't know the story, here's a brief recap: she never wanted me, gave birth & spent the next 14 years trying desperately to get me out of her life..unless she entertained brief moments of guilt during which she called & stole me for the weekend. I kicked her out of my life when I was 14 or 15 (not sure exactly) and didn't look back - except for the 4 years of therapy that is. I avoid that side of my family with the exception of my grandmother (and my grandfather til he passed my freshmen year of college). So back to the incident: I called my grandmother to chat as I do on a semi-frequent basis. She said my mother was there (the only person in the world who refers to Jenny Thiel as my mother - I have made it quite clear this woman simply birthed me and forgot about the other responsibilities and joys of motherhood regarding me). She put her on the phone (because what else could she do?) and we spoke for about 10 minutes. It wasn't anything mean or hurtful or shaming. It was congenial small talk between 2 somewhat strangers. It meant very little superficially but underneath it tore me apart again - as it usually does. There is an unabiding reason I asked her to leave me alone: she fucks up my life. Pure and simple. It ain't healthy kids and I know this. I felt a lot of things: hurt, shame, indignation (however you spell that), pain and abandonment. All things I can overcome in any other area of my life; I have lived through much and have maintained a strong sense of self through those experiences (and certainly because of them). But anything pertaining to her, to motherhood or to children in pain makes me unravel. I lose it and feel blind, damaged and without limbs. I think I'm still recovering from that 10 minute talk and it's far-reaching tentacles have snaked their way into my everyday thoughts. Wherever this is coming from, it's no good and I have to continue to labor through it.