After a good fifteen minutes of bawling my eyes out in the car, I finally got up the courage to start moving my stuff into my storage unit. This is going to sound horrible, but as I was pulling my cart full of random shit down the hall, I thought, “the only people who have storage units are unstable losers, how in the F did I get here?”
Don’t worry, I don’t really believe that about people who rent storage units.
I know enough about psychology to know that I was projecting my own self-loathing on everyone and everything outside of me in that moment.
When I turned the corner, I saw this woman rummaging through the unit next to mine. She was this beautiful African American woman, and as I started unloading my things, I heard, “I’m getting ready to go to Africa.”
I was the only one around, so I assumed she was talking to me. I poked my head out and said, “Really? Wow, that is so cool!”
As happens sometimes, we ended up talking for about 45 minutes and she laid it all out for me. It was like she knew my situation without me saying anything at all. (I guess there were some clues… running mascara, random shit on a cart). But still, I do believe that sometimes we meet people in just the right moment – and whether they are messengers from God, the Universe, or some source of Universal Consciousness, I don’t care. I love it.
The most important message she had for me, was that I have everything I need, right here, inside of me, and that I need to be okay with myself before I will ever be okay with someone else. She said this to me twice, touching her hand to her chest. I think she knew this was the message I needed to hear the most.
Of course, I have heard this message countless times, and I will need to hear it countless times more. This is not news to me. Months ago, I put this uncomfortable quote in my bullet journal, knowing it was something I needed to start believing:
“Paradoxically, the ability to be alone is the condition for the ability to love.” – Erich Fromm
I am still trying to soak that in. My brain knows it to be true, but after so many years of material and emotional dependence on others, truly believing it, deep in my soul will take some time.
For now, I am grateful for a chance meeting with a wise woman.
So, why in the world would I start a BLOG, right now, in this moment? I’m a mess, right? What could I possibly have to say that anyone would give a shit about?
I’ve been wanting to start my for a really long time, but I could never decide on a topic that people would actually care about, and maybe people won’t care about this either, but it is my story, it is a record of how I figured life out after everything went to shit.
But wait, I haven’t figured it out, don’t get too excited.
However, I promise to record my struggles and triumphs, what worked and what didn’t as I work towards material and emotional independence – something I have never had.
I am scared, but I am going to have faith that I can do this. I am going to walk through the fear, feel it, freak out, and keep going. I live in Orange County, California – one of the most expensive housing markets in the country, and I am a full-time college student, and no, I don’t have a job. Quite frankly, I don’t want to “get a job.” Working for $12 an hour isn’t going to cut it – I must come up with something else, and this lovely BLOG is step 1.
What the hell, what in the actual hell am I doing????
We shall see! For now, I have to get to my homework, fill out an application for an apartment, cry a little, and keep going.
Thanks for reading, Cheers! D.