Writing Down The Dirty

The worst thing about rock bottom is getting there: the slow, long and painful descent. Because you keep thinking: ‘Ok, this is going to be the worst of it.’ And then it’s not. The truth is, things can always get a little shittier.

So, the one and only good thing about finally reaching rock bottom is that there is nowhere to go but up.

I probably shouldn’t have posted that tirade yesterday and usually don’t, but did so deliberately, not for attention, but for my own memory.

There are a number of things I avoid talking about on my blog. I generally don’t talk about money, my family, my weight or anything that would involve breaching a second party’s privacy.

And generally, anything really, really horrible I prefer to avoid. If I am going through a bad time, I tend to keep on going until it’s over and then I’ll write about it. But I’ll wait until the lessons have been learned or the jokes can be made, and I can wrap it up in a nice neat little bow for y’all.

Because otherwise it just seems really whiny and self-serving. And moderately annoying.

No one needs to read that shit. Except that well, I do. I need to remember. I’m pretty sure that my first book was this hard, but I didn’t write any of it down, so I have forgotten, which means that I have been completely blindsided the second-time around.

And let’s face it, life is not all about the good stuff, no matter how much we endeavour to focus on the positive. It is real and it is true. Yesterday’s post was not a cry for attention or even really a call for sympathy. It was me feeling completely hopeless and talking about it because it has been consuming my life for the past three months and I have been spending great amounts of energy NOT TALKING ABOUT IT. And focusing on the positive, and focusing on Abundance and Gratitude and focusing on Writing and Choice and Cause and Freedom. And focusing, focusing, focusing. Um. Except that by not focusing on what was really bothering me, nay scaring the living shit out of me, I was denying a real large part of myself.

Yesterday’s post was about as vulnerable and emotional as I have been or felt or shown in a really long time. And my finger hovered over the delete button last night for a number of minutes. Can I really handle sharing all of who I am with you, unabashedly, without regret?

Well I guess I can. I believe in the integrity of the truth and the poise that comes with standing naked in a room full of people. That post will stay posted, even though today it makes me cringe with embarrassment a little.

I needed to surrender. I needed to break down, cry, sleep, yell (and boy, did I do some yelling yesterday) stomp around, get angry, get frustrated, and be in whatever range of emotion was necessary to get the hell out.

So thank you for the phone calls, the emails and the comments. They are much appreciated.

I should clarify that after all my bitching and surrendering, I did get down to business and take care of the particular monetary issue at hand. Not only will I live to see another day, but I think I will even make it through the rest of this month, and dare I say? April as well?

And also, to clarify, I work at about 4 jobs already. It’s not so much a matter of not having work; it was a matter of not getting paid for the work I had already done. And, to add insult to injury, I am currently writing an article called ‘Reality Check: Make Sure You Get Paid.”

Oh, the humanity! Yes, the Universe has a colossally large sense of humour. What am I going to be writing about next month? Maybe ‘Reality Check: making Sure You Get Laid.”

Oh. Now there’s something I could really get behind. (you see? See what I just did there?)