I don’t know what to call this one
I’m not completely sad and miserable, but I’m not entirely fulfilled and happy either.
I’ll be 35 in a month and six days. I have no job, no car, no family of my own, no friends, and absolutely no motivation to do what’s necessary to have any of those things.
Not entirely no motivation, really. I used to have a job. I’ve had a few jobs, actually. I either quit or got fired from them. I choose my mental well-being over $11, $15, even $20 an hour, and having to work with men who harass women and still haven’t learned to adhere to the basic rules of functioning in a society aren’t conducive to a positive mental state. I just quit a gig yesterday because I had this really strong feeling that the event coordinator was brushing up against my ass on purpose, not on accident. It’d happened too many times to be an accident. If it happens once, ok I can say it’s an accident, but twice AND you’re aware that the space we are occupying is narrow? That’s not an accident, it’s a pervert. So I quit.
I’ve also had a car before. I’ve had several cars actually. The two that were leased got repossessed because I couldn’t pay the bill. Can’t pay bills when you don’t have the money. I’ve learned to accept and recognize the value of public transit. Yes it’s frustrating having my ETA to any place dependent on the shotty schedule of a government funded entity, but it also forces me to manage my time well and strengthen my planning skills. I can’t just get up on a whim and go when I want. I have to think about that shit and schedule out my day according to the time it takes to travel on the bus. I also get to clear my mind and think, since I don’t have to focus on not getting hit by a speeding idiot.
I also could’ve had a family of my own, but I got an abortion instead. I grew up in a single mother, low income household and it was a living hell. My mom was always sad and depressed, we never had any money for anything, and I was her scapegoat. It’s not that we didn’t know my dad, it’s that he’s a piece of shit like all the other guys she dated. I was making $13 an hour and working towards my masters when I found out I was pregnant. That’s not enough money to raise a child on alone, and I definitely didn’t want to be tied to my piece of shit, almost baby-daddy for 18 years longer.
I’ve also had friends. I have no problems making friends. My biggest problem is keeping them. I’ve been through so many things in my life and have had to make a lot of mentally and emotionally tough decisions so many time that it’s nothing for me to cut someone off like they never existed. The most recent cut off was an old friend I bumped into in Walgreens. We met in college; she was my professor. We developed a bit of a rapport and became personal friends when the semester was over, but we lost touch for about five years. Tried to rekindle that friendship by hanging out a few times. The most valuable aspect in a friendship to me is emotional support because I go through a lot and deal with a lot in my personal life. The way I cope is by talking about it with a friend, which is very healthy to do. Well, I called her and not only did she not answer my call, she didn’t bother to call back or even text to communicate. I realized she was going to be the emotional support I need, so I cut her ass off.
My ex tried to convince me that all of my problems in life are entirely because of me and my attitude. And, there was a part of me that started to believe him. Maybe if I was a bit more tolerant of disrespect, sexual harassment, and exploitation, I could keep a job. Maybe if I was a bit more tolerant of poor behavior, low emotional intelligence, and abuse, I could keep a man. Maybe if I was a bit more tolerant superficiality, I could keep friends. Maybe if I lived like a miser and saved every last penny I had, rather than go out and enjoy myself every once in a while, I’d have more money.
I’m not motivated to keep functioning in this dumb ass society. I’m not motivated to keep trying to build relationships with dumbass people. I’m not motivated to hide the fact that I think all of this shit is dumb in the first place.
Maybe if I was a little better at hiding the fact that I think most people are dumb and unacceptable, I’d be better off in my life.
My gut tells me I did the right thing by prioritizing my well-being over money, but why I don’t feel it’s the truth? It tells me that I did the right thing by letting go of people who take more value from me than they give, and don’t even care to learn what’s valuable to me in the first place, but why don’t I feel it’s the truth? It tells me that, despite my past and current circumstances, I’m still going to achieve success in my life, but why don’t I believe it’s true?
I’m probably just feeling sorry for myself, honestly. Today was a pretty tough day.