Numb. Numb, numb, numb.
I’m just rolling through life, one day at a time, and it feels so meaningless these past few months. Days and weeks and months just fly off the calendar.
The turning point will come. I know it will.
I’m just so sick of this money business. I’m obsessed with the notion that I have to be financially stable in order to feel good and accomplish anything. That I have to have my expenses covered in order to feel safe, comfortable. Anything else is like walking on eggshells. Scared to live, too depressed to make change.
My goal is clear: Earn at least 50% of my monthly expenses from freelance writing, the rest from a part time job (even just the record store is fine). I just can’t seem to gain positive traction with the writing. I’m constantly bogged down with mad scrambles for money come the end of the month.
If evolution is true, then humans started as water-based organisms that one day crawled out of the sea and onto the beach, beginning life as we know it. As a metaphor for my life, I can’t quite get out of the water. I look up and see the sunlight sparkle through the shore’s water. I poke my head out in leaps and taste the fresh new air. My amphibious feet dig into the shifting sand beneath the surface, and every now and then I touch dry land.
But the undertow… after too long the undertow drags me back. It takes me weeks just to reach the edge of the shoreline, and by the end of the month my body is exhausted, my lungs ache and I’m pulled back into the deep by rent, bills and debt.
That new air is so sweet, though. The pure sun shining down on my skin is so much better than its mere flickers under water.
One day soon I’ll grow these legs, and before anyone knows I’m out of the ocean I’ll be sprinting down the shore.
© 2017 Day By Day Mental