No matter how hard or fast I run I can't seem to get away.
After running around 3000 miles away from the neighborhood that drove me into a spiral of depression I find myself right back in it.
Running out of money and time. Literal days away from being on the street and some people that I knew from one of the many jobs I've had over the years offered space in their home. They're good, hardworking, people that I trusted to stay true to their word even if young.
Little did I know that they lived just a few blocks away from the place I was trying to avoid.
I came back to the valley to pull my life together after pulling myself back together. Some people think that those things go hand in hand. the life and the self. But not so much.
Pulling myself back together involved reminding myself of my goals, reminding myself of what I'm after and where I'm trying to get to. Pulling the life together means going through the things that are left after the crumbling of a shared life.
The belongings, the feelings, the financials. Which, on my end means not a lot.
Some toys,
Some tools,
Some games.
The financials were all in the spouse and their families name.
Idiot ass me. I had my name on bills, but none of the assets.
You would think that after having so many failed relationships in my life that I would have focused on building up my own finances and assets rather than those of someone else.
But hey, I don't have "friends."
I have coworkers, colleagues, students, and teachers.
I don't really understand how "friends" works.
Obviously.
From day one my spouse had their foot half out the door.
Funny that I was the one to walk out it in the end.
I had promised not to abandon them.
Which, I do not think I did.
What I did do was acquiesce.
Left a place that I felt to be home rather than trying to fix it.
Lived in a place that I was not comfortable with from day one.
Cut myself off from opportunities and people that I cared about to alleviate my spouses fears and comfort.
Stopped doing many of the things that made me me. Like riding a bike.
Forced myself to socialize and make connections with people from my past I wasn't comfortable with.
And the intimate side of things...well. That is going to take a lot of therapy on my part.
As it stands, the one opportunity I theoretically had to be intimate with someone else since the divorce I nearly had a panic attack because of...a lot of things I don't want to get into here.
The other thing that is a strait kick in the balls is that after working at learning how to craft and make things for so long that my skills are next to nil. That everyone else around me having the ability to draw, to create, to make beautiful things.
My artistic abilities in that regard so utilitarian it can't even be called art.
No wonder I can't find anyone that wants to pay me for the work that I do or my writing.
So I'm starting with nothing other than the debt I've accrued trying to pull myself back together and, again, because none of the assets were in my name I can't even get a loan to consolidate the ridiculousness of it to be able to pay it off. As I make my payments to try and maintain at least the credentials of having a good payment history I watch the interest climb. Realizing that the hole I'm buried in has no bottom. That no matter how hard I work, no matter my experience, every place I apply at keeps offering me entry level pay.
It's insulting to the extreme, but I take the pay and work the hours because if I don't then I can't even pay the bills.
Everyone looks at the things that I have, the nice clothes, the nice tools, the toys. And say "oh they must be so rich." no, I just work my ass off, work my fingers to the bone, destroy my body and mind by working around the clock, run myself ragged by getting to places on time for little to no pay because that's how I was raised.
Funny that, I was always taught that if you work hard it will eventually pay off.
Still waiting.
To grounded in my morals to put up with discriminatory work places and coworkers.
To proud to ask for hand outs.
What's left?
Sell off the toys and tools for less than what they're worth.
Work for minimum wage to slowly drown in debt.
Keep scraping the money for school together so that maybe one day my research and writing will be recognized as something other than the mad ravings of an incel on the internet.
My only real fear right now.... the stuff, the money, the finances moot...is if being back in the neighborhood that I was trying to get away from is going to drive me back into the depression I fought so hard to claw out of.
I made it clear to the roommates that I was going to be working towards moving somewhere I felt more comfortable as soon as I could even the financial math isn't adding up to that being any time soon.
Hell, I'll be honest.
I battle with suicidal thoughts daily, and have since I was in high school. But aside from one attempt in my early twenties have never fallen into that trap.
It's hard sometimes.
When I think people aren't watching or can't hear I cry.
I go places to work on my writing and other pursuits to be around other people doing the same so that I can remind myself that I'm not the only one working towards a better future.
I berate myself for the weakness.
Try to remind myself of my worth even if most of the rest of the world doesn't see it.
Suffer through the aches and pains of exertion to avoid the aches and pains of my disabilities.
I do what I have to to survive.
To keep breathing to fight for another day.
Most of the time it means throwing myself into my work, what ever it is.
Often times it means trying to make other peoples lives better in some way.
But at the end of the day I have my words, I have my determination, and I have my grit.
I refuse to give up, even if the weight of debt and insulting pay rates threatens to bury me beyond being able to get out of them.
