freebirds to the words
I have realized this whole freedom thing I am experiencing is not the most comfortable thing. I think I would be better at it were I not totally alone in this house, but for now, I am dealing with it as well as I can. Not the freedom thing, the alone with just me and the dog thing.
I have never been free to just do what I want. I don’t think most people understand what I mean by that. I mean I can literally do whatever I want to make money, and technically I can make as little or as much of it as I can. I do not have to worry about health insurance because for the first time since I was 17–I am not the one responsible for carrying it. The onus for that is on Don, and I don’t envy that, exactly, but he has been getting the kinds of job inquiries that have that as something you get without having to put in the requisite 90 days–generally speaking benefits for jobs for him over the past year or two seem to start on Day 1. I have never had that kind of skill set so I have never been valued like that, and probably never ever will be.
To be able to choose the kind of job I want has never been anything I could even imagine too far in–you have to be sensitive to frames of mind like I have–you might let yourself think about it for a few minutes but this is like Day 9 for me. Day 9 for me to know I can do and be anything I want to be. I am 43 years old, though, and that is not something I have ever let myself think, so to me it is not exactly a believable permanent state. I tend to see everything, even life itself as temporary. I have issues even believing anything good or fun unless I am halfway there. I went to visit Don out of state last weekend and I wouldn’t even let myself believe I was going to be able to see him until I was on the plane, strapped in. Of course the mediocre and fatalist in me decided, well, shit, if I don’t die on the flight, I guess I will REALLY be able to see him. I assume it might be a defect of my brain–you don’t get really good for too long at one time. The purpose you serve is suffering, and any joy you get you must have cheated to get. Not that I have even done that, but I have felt at points that there are probably people way more deserving than I am of life. People who have children or a lot of people giving a shit about them. I text maybe 2 people a week, this past week it was–5 total and not all on the same day, and that’s because I resigned from my job and a few people had questions. Yeah, I mentioned people seemed to give a shit about me AT work, and with regards to my functions at my job, but as me? Nobody really cared about me beyond the times I was in during office hours, usually in my pajamas in the other room, in, but definitely depended on for my own versions of sanity I brought into the workplace. I was also always kind, which I am realizing is not the thing most humans have in them.
This almost reminds me of the time I had all those major repairs in 06, was it? I psychotically put myself through Columbia, thinking, shit, you really need to set up your own path now, get on it, and don’t fuck around. But I did because, no. Having all those surgeries and then ivy league, stupid stupid girl.
So now I have this time and space, but no other support but monetary and health-wise, yes, I have both. I have the kind of support that is enough for many, but for me, for my heart heart, it is difficult. I am lonely. Yeah, I know I always sound pretty damn lonely, but I also thrive on human connection and I will need to figure that out. My damn camera I have been waiting for all week–lost by Amazon so that should happen next weekend. I have lightboxes, a new microphone. I can do voice over now. I can do hopefully snippets of my own path to healing. I can show you all my own motivations, my days, what life has turned into for me–finally free. 26 years–never having a single job I just wanted aside from bartending, never having the space, never having a choice. Choices always made for me to many extents–you shop for insurance with sickness. You shop jobs to not screw your family over–you shop for jobs with health insurance, and the better, the better. This last job was the only job I got sued for my healthcare over–and it had the worst. But, it was a compromise because of the at home nature of it all. I planned to kill myself before it got out of hand.
And now I don’t have to, now I have choices. For the first time in my life–holy shit. For the first time in the life I can remember fully–I get to choose my reality, my daily everything. I am still somewhat hesitant to do that. I am still not believing this will last. But I am hoping I can understand freedom like so many of you seem to know. I am hoping I will get the space to figure it out. It’s going to take some time, just hope I don’t have to wait until I am in flight to realize I got there.
