Three years ago I did the very thing that is romantically heralded as the perfect way to kick life back in the ass.
I took ownership of my misery and decided to take the plunge and pursue a career as a full time writer.
My impending mortality may have had something to do with it.
Turning forty was and is the craziest thing to ever happen to me. You just never imagine that the day would come when you will be forced to out yourself as an almost middle-aged woman.
But even more disturbing is the onset of a crisis that erupts at the behest of plaguing insecurities — as you realize that you’ve spent more than half your life immersed in the shit that others fed you.
Now the time has come to eat or choke on your own shit.
That time arrived after a disastrous job at one of New York’s most prized non-profit institutions — left me emotionally incapacitated and physically withered.
Even the beefed up salary of $85K a year wasn’t nearly enough to manage my affairs or inspire mental durability.
I had to leave the city of my discontent and seek greener pastures while planting the pursuits that I desperately needed for my life’s breath.
I returned to Los Angeles. The refuge of my dormant fantasies and sky high endorsements.
There was a period of euphoria that accompanied my decision to abandon the need to responsibly curate my lifestyle.
I was finally free of the burden of working a blood-sucking corporate job in order to keep up with my bills and rent.
I always loathed the idea of being a full fledged adult — mired in debt and walking around jobless and lost. That would be a pathetic disposition. That would never be me!
It is now.
The gamble I took three years ago that gave me newfound purpose and dignity in the belief that being eternally bound by my creativity — would surely overwhelm any obstacle in my way — didn’t pay off.
The reasons why are subjective and objective and all the muddled stuff in between.
What I have to resoundingly convey is the fact that what I willingly committed to — was essentially a long shot.
But worth every struggle and the bucket of tears that are still filling up at a rapid pace.
My current situation is far from anything I could’ve ever envisioned. I didn’t seriously consider how bad things could potentially get.
If I had any idea that I would be holed up in the bedroom of a friend of a friend — without a job — appreciatively reliant on unemployment benefits — and committed to the comfort of buzz balls to rock me to sleep every night — I probably would still be stuck at my desk making hotel reservations for twenty-year-old associates.
No, in my mind — I had this in the bag.
I believed in my talent, ambition and the spirit of a hustler that living in the city that never sleeps for over a decade — helped create without barriers.
I also relentlessly envisioned my victory.
I saw myself reaping the rewards of all the sacrifices that were made in the hopes that they were part of the overall journey that was destined to end on an encouraging note.
It hasn’t and it didn’t.
And yet. I feel infinitely blessed and validated. I am absolutely convinced that I am a success.
I did it.
I took a chance. I didn’t allow my age, fear or ongoing disillusionment to dissuade me from trying with all my might to believe in myself.
I was lucky to have and still have an amazingly loyal network of loyalists that champion me along even when it’s obvious that I’m losing at this game.
It couldn’t have began or ended any other way. But is it over?
I’m a die-hard Generation X-er. As long as the days keep inviting me back — I will continue to plow through the incredulous and the formidable.
Because I can.
Because I am not the one to be fucked with. Because I am that good and that valuable. Because I do what I can to cheer myself on even when the stacks are so damn high that I can’t see. Because I have the support of an elite few who refuse to let me fall. Because today is shit but tomorrow will be shittier. Because I want to die with the blessing of my happiness overriding the debts, rejection emails, and the searing exploitation infecting like-minded brethren.