There is racism around the world but some countries definitely take it to a new level… the US is one of them. This is why I don’t move away from Chicago even though it’s so expensive. I can’t wait until I figure out how to leave this country.
I am not 100% sure when it happened however I started to blame myself for everything. I figured since I was the common denominator, then everything stems from me. Now that may be true for most things, but that doesn’t make it true for everything. This is a bad path I have in my head now and I figure that if shit isn’t working out then it must be me. I think mostly because I don’t like people who don’t take responsibility for their own mistakes. However, I do take responsibility for my mistakes… I take way too much responsibility for everything. This has has the result of massively doing my head in due to all of the bad things going on around me:
And let me tell you- it’s bad, really, really, bad, no exaggeration. I’m just not letting “you” in on all of it. It’s one of those things that is bigger than I am and I don’t know how to solve it unless I get a massive influx of cash. The way to do it these days quickly seems to have something happen to you and you go viral but I sure as hell can tell you that hard work and perseverance does not work for most of us. I used to be in that camp that believed that… “Bootstraps!” “Hard work!” and all that crap. But that still doesn’t mean that you will “make it”. We’re sold a story that just isn’t true as children. This doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t try or work hard or have goals- not at all. It’s just that it really does take a combo of hard work, knowing the right people, and the right people bringing you in. It just is how it is.
My head is never in a good place these days because I cannot get a reprieve or release from the major problem that dogs me. I don’t sleep well. I don’t eat well. My brain is constantly, even at a subconscious level, trying to figure out a way out of my cage, my trap, my misery, my hell. Even when I say I quit, I don’t quit.
Which kind of brings me to another point for a moment:
Changing goals isn’t quitting. Knowing that you need to take a break isn’t quitting. I have said for the past 3-4 years that I need a full year off. If I could get a full year off from all the issues that surround me, be in a place where I could be 100% me, have the chance to heal mentally and physically, I know I could possibly get a second win and figure a way out of my issue. But I just can’t get it and now it looks like it never will happen. I’m pretty sure I am going to stroke out due to stress soon- truthfully, so long as it takes me out 100% and I am dead, it really would be blessed relief because living like this is hell, hell, hell… I don’t know how much more I can take, to be honest.
But this isn’t my fault… and maybe that helps a little bit. I just need to start really believing that instead of giving myself lip service.
If only in my life I had people who cared about me in the way that I cared for others, perhaps I wouldn’t have ended up here. I am a huge disappointment to myself and to others and that’s hard to live with.
Keeping things compartmentalized is the best way for me. Bet you are surprised to see me posting here. It was inevitable actually. I tried to make how I’m supposed to operate work for me and it has not. I’ve tried to fit into this new normal but I do not. So let’s do it this way- the personal stuff resides here. The travel/fun stuff is elsewhere. That way, I can still keep what makes me, me (which has been repressed and distressed for years now).
Aging is a bitch and a half, let me tell you, especially if you are a woman like me. Add into it the way my home country (and the world) seems to be heading, and I’ve been feeling kinda helpless and powerless… but part of that is again because I’ve been trying to fit into this fucking bullshit role that the world wants me to have to be “successful” and… I haven’t been successful, I’ve been miserable. Now mind you, success is subjective. On one hand, if being high up the latter in corporate America is success, then yes, I am an abject utter and total failure- and as much as I dig on myself and want to live the narrative that since it always goes wrong, it must be me (and yes, it is ME), that’s not the whole story, not when you really dig into everything – which nobody has the time, flash judgments, yo. I’ve got the skills to be in that role, both professionally and personally (no, really, hear me out), but what I don’t have is the ability to play that so important political game. If that’s part of being “up there” then deep down, I’m fucking PROUD to be a failure- because I still didn’t sell out, even when I was selling out. You feel me? So my failure is a success in a way? Ha!
But let’s do a reality check about the above… no matter what anyone says, money is the key and my life has been ruled by the lack of it, the insecurity, the constant financial drama due to me not being very educated on that until the past few years (yes, I’m smart and I’m brilliant but I can’t be amazing at everything and unfortunately, until recently, understanding money and finances and all that crap was my weakest point. It’s now one of my strengths but too little too late, you know.) So the struggles above had to keep happening and are yet still happening, to the detriment of my health but the benefit of me not ending up homeless… yet. It’s still looking very bleak but I dunno… whatever.
On the other hand, if you judge success as being constant self-improvement, self-growth, challenges, and experiences, then, my dear friends, I have been killing it, absolutely killing it. Unfortunately, to do that does require money as well so it’s basically Ouroboros. I am getting old but I am still pushing my limits as best as I can, though my health really has taken a nosedive (see paragraph number two).
But, the rules have changed. Life is changing and it’s time for me to change with it. Let me explain:
I’ve spent 40+ years acquiring things and trying to go somewhere that I just cannot be. I’ve been repressing the things that I love in order to try to survive… and I’m barely surviving, I’m definitely not thriving. I’ve been so, so sad because due to being a woman who becomes less relevant every day (and no, I don’t agree with it, it’s not right, and I keep screaming into the void but even the void is now ignoring me) and I’m really scared about my future since I have no support system what so ever. I’m sick of being ignored. I’m angry, I’m stressed, I’m sad, I’m depressed, I’m frustrated.
And then I remember that poem by Dylan Thomas:
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And so here were are… and I’m comfortable and at peace finally with what I must do. I don’t know if it will work, but like FUCK I am going to let this world take me out. After 40+ years of collecting, now is the time to start shedding.
I’m going through a massive overhaul of my possessions right now. If it isn’t something I really love or cannot be replaced, it’s getting tossed or sold. All the toys that I once thought were important have been gathering dust on my shelves. I bought them to have them, but I’m in a place now where I know those things really don’t bring me joy or help me in any way. I have tons of books that I read once but have no desire to read again and clothing that isn’t me anymore or even appropriate. Fuck, I would LOVE to relive my Tekwh0re years knowing what I know now but I can’t. Nobody wants to see my 46-year-old ass in a see-through dress. Unless it’s a vintage book, vintage piece of art, or I really, really love something, it’s getting tossed or sold. I’m being ruthless in my purging. Even my Wonder Woman collection is going. On top of that, I am only allowing myself to spend money on four categories:
Travel-related things or travel
Computers or Electronics
Part of the above- things I need to really start vlogging or telling stories.
No more sneakers, no more boots. No clothing unless I really need it*. No more plants, kitchen gadgets, furniture, or books (unless I want it for my kindle but no more physical media). I’m not going out to eat. I’m not ordering take-out. If I can fix something myself, I will. The name of the game is purge, purge, purge…
… so I can fit everything into a shipping container. I need to fit everything into a shipping container.
I have a goal and a plan and it’s crazy as fuck but I’m raging against you, and you and you. And I’m done being corporate, 100%. I probably only have 40 years left of my life if I am lucky. I’m not spending it anymore for what is asked or expected of me. I’m planning my great escape. I’m going out with a big fucking bang.
At some point I realized I enjoyed the war far more than the peace because the war gave me something to do. It wasn’t so much a sense of purpose but rather that its where I excelled and what I was made for. Peace is for lovers and I am anything but lovable. I’m passionate and detached at the same time. I don’t understand fake words and fake sentiments because that’s not what comes from me. So times of peace are always hard because it more shows the vast differences between how I see the world and how the world sees me.
I told someone I cared about once that I was made the way I am because you need people like me to protect everyone else. Being full of fire and focused anger and determination and nails and that fight, fight, fight, trigger instead of the flight is what makes people like me stand up during crazy and impossible situations. Is it because we have nothing, no family, no lovers, no ties, just that baseline seeing things for what they are that we just don’t give a fuck about our lives? So we offer it up to people who know will be missed by others? Do we do it because deep down, we know we’re the ones that must? Do we do it for the puffing of egos and great bar stories later? Or do we do it because we’re just plain stupid?
All I know is I will stand where others will not. The majority of the time I stand alone, though support is “whispered” in my ear because fuck, what would be though of YOU if people knew you stood behind ME? I’m the difficult one, the vocal one, the combative one, the cold one, the heartless one.
If you only knew the truth. And maybe that’s the ultimate truth of all of us who are like the we that we are:
We do it because of a greater love. We put ourselves on the line, because of love. But we’ll never admit that love because it doesn’t really mesh with the now narrative we have to live up to that other created for us.
So perhaps we do the crazy things because of ultimate love for our fellow man, fellow creature, the earth, the universe and what have you. But War keeps us busy and drowns out the unbearable silences of peace where we are reminded that our love for the world isn’t returned.
I don’t know how to answer this delemia besides some of us are just made that way. We’re made to war barbecue other people can’t. I can only speak for myself but in return, I never have issues sleeping or looking myself in the mirror wondering if I did the right thing that day. I went to war for somebody or some idea and though I’m tired, often beaten up, I can rest knowing from a moral standpoint, I did the right thing. I’d like to think that’s what all of us get who are made this way. We get to sleep at night.
But don’t think it doesn’t come at a cost. We just don’t get to share that.