This Is What Rock-Bottom Looks Like

I am officially suffering. I think I've done pretty well to manage as long as I have. I've been saying it for months: I'm on the edge of financial ruin. Well, I'm not on the edge any more, friends. I am there.

I have arrived. At the end of my rope. I need money. now. today. yesterday. Or the lights will be turned out, the car taken away, the phone/internet/cable shut off. I lost my house and my car insurance last week. And my Health Care is long gone. Yep. It's that bad. I have a cavity which I can't afford to fill and I gave up wearing contact lenses about 6 months ago, since I can't afford them anymore. I have a roof over my head and food in my belly but for the grace of God. And I never say shit like that.

And I am done being grateful. I just can't be grateful. Not right now. Today I feel like the world chewed me up, spit me out, pissed on me and then--just for good measure--threw me in a meat grinder and pulverized my remains into the pavement with the heel of its shoe. And yes, that's the best analogy I can come up with in these desperate times. It's not particularly writerly or in any way original, but there you have it.

I have never felt more alone, more frustrated or more furious in my entire life. I am working my ass off and have nothing to show for it.

So today, being a freelance writer sucks. Don't quit your day jobs, folks. Stay where the pay is regular, the benefits are locked in and the waters are warm and calm. It's cold and wet and horrible over here on the road less travelled. And I get that I chose this life and most days, it's a pretty good one. Today is just not one of those days.

I'm going to go see if Tim Hortons is hiring.