If you find it, let me know. I had it when I went to bed last night, had it when I woke up at 1:30 a.m. If I was a detective, I’d pinpoint the crime—if indeed there is one—sometime between the hours of 2:00 and 3:30 a.m. I think I had it when I did dishes, that would be around 2 a.m. I like doing dishes; I always have. It’s my “go to” activity when I don’t know where to start or what to do next. I do them first thing in the morning as a way to clear my head and set the compass for the day and I do them in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep. Maybe my “give-a-shit” drained away in the dish water.
I do know, as I returned to bed and lay there in an anxiety-ridden heap of useless flesh, that the only way through this personal crisis is to write. But I’ve been postponing posting (ha, isn’t that an interesting play on words) because I was taught “if you can’t say anything nice…” you know the adage. Well, I’ve got nothing good to say. I’m in a fucking dark hole. Have been for years (not just months—years) and the harder I work the deeper the hole gets. Stop digging, some people say. Work smarter, not harder; run and pray; believe; keep-on-keepin’-on. Insert your own F’ed-up positive-thinking bullshit right here. And let me tell you, I’ve tried them all; I’ve taught them all. I’m not new to The Secret. Brian Tracy taught me the underlying principles in The Secret in his audio program, The Psychology of Achievement when I was 24 years old. I believed it so much, I’ve lived my life doing affirmations, and striving to turn every negative statement and situation I encounter to a positive experience. It’s all bullshit. And I don’t care who’s reading this or what your perspective is, it’s not working for me. Life is not working for me. And I don’t give a shit who knows it. That’s the “give-a-shit” that went missing around 3:00 last night.
“Fake it til you make it.” A statement I learned in Mary Kay as I struggled to build my team and become a Sales Director—a positive affirmation in action if I ever heard one. My ex-husband, who tends to be a realist, used to tell me I was just lying to myself. Well, I’m done lying to myself and others.
No, I’m not fine. Life is a shit sandwich and I’m the creamy middle. There’s no one to help, no one I can count on. And I’m so damned exhausted from trying so hard, I no longer care who knows it. To quote my favorite band, “I don’t want to fake it anymore.” (Widespread Panic, Imitation Leather Shoes)
Every day is a struggle. I see no reprieve from this stressful financial situation and no joy on the horizon. I’m unemployed and the first unemployment check won’t be here for 6-8 weeks. I’m in need of capital so I can start my own business (because “when the going gets tough, the tough get going” and make their own success—isn’t that the capitalistic bullshit we’ve all been taught?). I’ve been going backwards financially since May of 09 and the credit cards are maxed. Rent is due in two weeks and I’ve already tapped the folks and best friend for cash. I need to move out of my apartment but have no place to go or no money to work with. I’m down to my last few dollars and hope hasn’t been in my vocabulary for…ever (unless you count that tequila buzz I had two weeks ago—which turned out to be an alcohol-induced illusion.)
Do I give-a-shit what you think of this blog post? Or my situation? Or my character? Nope. I’ve lost it. If you find it, keep it.
