I’m not even sorry for the unusually large quantity of f-bombs that I know are about to come.
Today was just one of those last straw kind of days. I stood up from the dentist’s chair, which I had just had my ass parked in for three straight hours, and I fought back unexpected tears that began to well out of nowhere.
I didn’t even know I was saying the words to my dentist until they had already escaped my numbed rubber mouth… “What else can’t go right.” I frustratedly said.
Three hours for a root canal, only to be told they couldn’t get to one of the four canals, whatever the fuck that means, and that I would have to go pay even more money to have a specialist finish the job. I already didn’t have the money for the root canal to begin with.
More money. More money. More money lately. Oh, and did I mention more money? Always more money, especially when things aren’t going well.
I don’t know why, exactly, the last 18 months have been such a dick to me, and why nothing I try is fucking working, and why everything keeps fucking going wrong at a time when I really just need something to fucking go right already.
Is the universe trying to line me up for something else? Something better?
Am I being molded for some greater purpose?
Or is everything that exists just fucking chaos that none of us can fucking control?
For 18 months I’ve gotten out of bed almost every single morning and forced a positive attitude as everything continues to crumble around me.
I have recorded hundreds of positive affirmations and listened to them frequently.
I have fought to keep laughing through the mayhem, even when the worst keeps happening.
I have continually heard myself saying the words, “that’s just life,” and “it’ll all work out,” and “things will turn around soon.”
Except for some reason, right now, everything just seems to be going wrong and continues to go wrong.
I am doing all the right things that have always worked to rebound from the dips in the past. I have eliminated the negative and draining things from my life. I have worked my ass off no fewer than 80 hours per week because I hate leaning on others financially and I always believe I can make things work. I have shared my time and resources with the world. I have been there for others. I have volunteered my time and energy to good causes. I have righted many wrongs and fixed many relationships. I have opened my heart and home to friends in need and to friends with addictions. I have even gotten on my fucking knees a few times and prayed to an all-powerful being I don’t believe exists because Goddamn it… I’ve done everything in my own power to turn things around on my own and sometimes it’s nice to pretend someone with power to do something actually cares.
Hopefully without offending those few who have become supporters, I honestly don’t understand why so few people are willing to give something back when I have worked so long and so long and shared and created so much over the past decade, never asking for much of anything in return. It’s not like I’m even asking for fucking freebies when you become supporters. I give away all sorts of stuff to make it way more than worth it.
I don’t know anymore.
Is it time to admit that what I share day in and day out just isn’t fucking worth it to enough people? That what I give of myself just isn’t worth even a few bucks to very many people at all? That maybe the problem isn’t other people being stingy or being all-taker no-givers, but that the problem is actually me? Is the truth that I’m irrelevant now? Is the truth that I’m not interesting enough? Is the hard reality that all this isn’t even worth the cost of one beer?
I’m literally selling the things I own, one item at a time, to feed my kid and keep our roof over our head until we can sell this house, which may take a while since seven houses in the neighborhood all went up for sale at once.
I’m thankful. I’m thankful. I’m thankful. That has always been my go-to mantra. I’m thankful. I make it a habit to start listing all the things I’m thankful for and it quickly snaps me out of the moments where I feel sorry for myself.
But how many things in a row can go wrong before I just get to throw my hands up in the air and say, “you know what? I’m not thankful right now. I’m fucking frustrated. And I just need something to go right. For the love of God, I need something to fucking go right.”
I know. I’m being an almost 40-year-old whiney baby. Guilty.
Please don’t fill the comments with instructions or ideas for fixing my attitude.
Please don’t fill them with platitudes and inspirational quotes.
Please don’t reach out and offer coaching to me.
Please don’t tell me what I’m doing wrong. Believe me. At at time when I’m working so hard to do everything right, I already know that I’m doing everything wrong. I don’t need to hear it from you.
And for the love of God… Please don’t tell me the things I still have in my life that I should find a way to be thankful for.
Today I just need to be fucking frustrated because a bunch of my fucking teeth decided to get infected on me at the worst possible time, and the universe decided that even that major blow wasn’t a big enough blow in my already struggling life right now. Nope. “You’re going to have to go see a specialist for this one,” the dentist said. He was the nicest guy ever, but… Fuck you, doctor.
It’s okay if you don’t even respond to this. I don’t need positive “you’ve got this” statements today. I don’t need people telling me it will be alright.
I don’t need people telling me they support me when they actually don’t.
I don’t need any fucking handouts, either. I work for my money.
What I need is for people to hire me to create awesome name mandalas for Christmas gifts. The things are pretty fucking awesome.
What I really need, more than anything, is for people to become official supporters so that I have some fucking breathing room to maneuver and work from a positive good space every day as I strive to bring laughs and writing and art to the world.
I don’t want a fucking handout. I don’t know how I can be more clear about that.
No. I want to believe that what I give you is actually worth something to you.
Isn’t it okay to get paid if I bring value to your lives? Isn’t it okay to make a fucking living?
Verbalizing that you support me doesn’t actually support me. Leaving nice comments or thumbs up on the stuff I work hard to put into your life and feeds doesn’t put bread on my table.
Am I worth it anymore?
I am fucking worth it. I have to believe I’m worth five fucking dollars to more than a handful of you. I have to believe it. I just have to. And soon. I can’t keep doing this much longer if I’m just going to end up in a deeper hole. Facebook isn’t going to pay me. Ads aren’t going to cover much of anything anymore. My shop brings in trickle income and has yet to turn a profit. Nope. It has all just come down to one reality. At some point, I have to be worth it to you. That’s just the current truth of it.
What do I have to do to be worth it? Do I have to take my clothes off and dance like a fucking monkey? Do I have to release a sex tape? Do I have to take ridiculous selfies everywhere I go and pretend everything is always awesome?
Well, like 72% sorry.
It was just one bad root canal too much today.
One bad root canal on top of the two teeth I just had to have pulled because I don’t have enough for three root canals.
And all that on top of the major expense after major expense that somehow just keep nailing me out of nowhere.
On top of the _____________. Honestly, fill in almost any blank you want. That’s been my last 18 months. Several people I love dying. The bottom falling out of everything. Bad relationships. Surgeries. Business ventures failing. It’s just been a fuckery of an 18 months in my life.
I promise you I already hate myself for writing this at all. As I sit here, I want to delete it all, and to backpedal, and to write something instead that says “life is challenging, but it’s gonna be awesome somehow!”
I hate that I feel so weak right now. I hate that I feel vulnerable. I hate that I’m avoiding my emails and messages because I know just how many people took time out of their days to ask me for something in hopes that I can support them. I hate that for the first time in a very long time, I have nothing left to offer to support anyone else because I can’t even figure out how to support myself and my child right now.
More than anything, I hate that I can’t seem to figure out how to do this on my own. I can’t figure out how to fix this on my own. I have always figured things out. Always. And this time, nothing is fucking clicking. Nothing is fucking working. I try old things… Nothing. I try new things… Nothing.
I also know myself enough to know two things.
First, I know that I am going to share this and I’m not going to delete this because I believe, probably as much as I believe anything else, that it is my responsibility and weird calling in life to share what my real human experience is, no matter what that is. And right now, this is my fucking human experience.
Second, I know that tomorrow I’ll wake up, and I’ll say “fuck. Why did I share that,” and then I’ll get back to work. And I’ll keep trying to make things work. And I’ll keep building. I’ll keep creating. I’ll keep sharing. I’ll keep finding ways to be thankful for what I do have.
I have a lot to be thankful for. So fucking much to be thankful for.
But today, the fucking dentist telling me that $1500 (that I already didn’t have) wasn’t going to be enough for this latest problem was just one thing on my plate too many.
Today I just need to feel sorry for myself for the last few hours of the day.
Today I just need to acknowledge that I’m at a complete loss of what to do anymore.
Today I just need to vent.
Today I just need to put my flag in the mushy sand and say, “Please tell me I’m fucking worth something.”
Tomorrow will be tomorrow. Chances are it will be better.
Today I’m just going to let myself be whatever the fuck I’m going to be today. Because today is just a hard fucking day in my life.
Dan Pearce | Dan Pearce Was Here