Surface Pressure in Current Events

I feel like I am finally buckling under that crushing weight I have been experiencing. Oh, how people used to love to watch me fall. I am learning that all I’ve done was suppress the pain. What pain?All of it. The pain of not getting what want over the last several years. The pain of things constantly being out of reach. Everything falling apart. I’ve been stoic through it all and I had convinced myself that it just meant that I was emotionally regulated. I buried it and now it all decided to just bubble up to the surface for me to process.

I can’t even detail what I had gone through over the last 5 or so years I’m so frustrated. It’s like the moment things start to go my way something has to go wrong. Not even a little bit. The rug has to be pulled out from under me completely. Astrologically, it is written in my natal chart. I am destined for failure.

Money does not buy happiness but it does not make me depressed either. It has been the bane of my existence. Never having enough. I’m spoiled rotten compared to how bad it could actually be but that’s not the point. I don’t even know what it is like to just have the financial freedom to just have things. To just go travel. To just do things. I’m 37 for crying out loud. I should have something to my name. Thanks lockdowns <3

My trigger today was my hair. I can’t afford to dye it so my roots are pretty bad. This created an opportunity for me to see how badly it is thinning. I’m pretty attached to this mane of mine. I feel like I should just shave it off. Bite the bullet, so to speak. I can see that it is doing exactly what my uncle’s hair is doing. Not the end of the world. Just of my self-esteem. My security blanket. Maybe it will inspire me to reinvent myself. Become a beast. Become a vapid red-piller. Get ripped, get rich, get the girl, and be the victim. Andrew Tate is to those men what the fairy godmother is to Cinderella, I imagine. Maybe Martha Stewart? Bippity boppity boo.

Oh, another white guy with a podcast. Crypto, gym bro.

My body isn’t cooperating in several other ways. I’ve wasted all of my youth. This is another area where I am spoiled rotten. A million people would kill for my figure. I do not gain weight. I will be a thinspiration forever. I want to gain weight which is practically impossible. Let alone sustainable. I’m not a 5‘10” creature that can get ripped by just starring at a dumbell. I can eat their calories for a snack. My legs and arms are the same size if not bigger but I’m too proportionate for anyone to notice. It will take me 10 years and 10 meals a day to get the body I wish I had.

I have been so good to myself since I started this journey in 2016. What is my reward for being such a good girl? The world doesn’t owe me anything but I feel jipped, jarred and jaded anyway. The cheek, the nerve, the gall, the audacity, and the gumption. I cleaned up my diet. I quit smoking. I quit a litany of toxic substances and habits. I became the toxic waste in the end. I should just get a pack of smokes, eat red meat and get drunk on whiskey. Health is for pussies. Be a man, bitch.

This existential crisis was triggered by my hair being as thin as I am which is as thin as my patience but it was actually brought to me in part by the job I interviewed for. I got a taste of what it could be like to do something actually impactful. Something that creates change in the world. Everything else that I had been applying for is just… what’s the point? That’s the vibe. I am eight years away from having my doctorate in naturopathy. In September I start my chemistry course. This time next year I will be applying for post-secondary to get a Bachelor of $cience. I have that to prematurely stress over as well.

I don’t see my living situation working out for much longer. My roommate can barely be in the same room as me since I called her out three weeks ago. She was on a high. She felt so accomplished, so achieved and so pleased with herself and then along came a spider and burst that bubble. She had been working hard to be the most elevated version of herself. She got a license, she got a new job. Like, congratulations on turning 17 (she just turned 37). She is waiting to rent her cousin’s house. She is not ready to take care of a house, and her cousin will regret it. That’s her problem. It will be my problem when she decides to leave. She’s not been eating what I cook, just back to only eating snacks after I go to bed. She slept in until 2 pm today. She was good for two weeks and my mother says that I should have given positive reinforcements but she is an adult. I am not doing that. I can barely get the bare minimum out of her and she had been home most of the week. Like, if I could afford this place on my own I wouldn’t be stressed about it. I wouldn’t be stressed about ANYTHING actually.

I am probably going to wake up to a panic attack. Those are great! I can’t control my legs. The pressure is just on. Pluto really is retrograding back into Capricorn. Whatever. I used to work well under pressure. I’ve been so many different versions of myself over the last several years I am losing track of which bitch I am right now. I want to go back to my villain era. He could handle anything. Too bad he didn’t want anything out of life then. Oh to be young and dumb again.

Decision paralysis. Am I a Libra? What am I to do with my life right now? Give in, give up, or give it all you got. I’m tired of being rejected. I am tired of waiting on somebody else to hire me. I’m tired of the shitty bosses, the shitty coworkers. I just want to create my own opportunities already but I’m stuck with this survival mentality, for a lack of better term. This 9-5 mindset. I want to walk away from it and do all of my hustles online. The Wild Wild Web.

I hope my roommate is back to work tomorrow.