Lately I’ve had to put an enormous amount of energy into not letting the haters affect my game. It’s unclear what I’ve even been doing with my life in the last month or so, but the struggle to remain posi is real and alive and I am more dedicated than ever.
This likely has something to do with the fact that everything has kind of blown dogs for me in the last four weeks. If things don’t steer straight for me soon, I fear I may become a hater myself.
Mercury was in retrograde for a minute there, which, for those of you that haven’t decided to arbitrarily assign significance to astrology, means that everything is supposed to be fucked up for a few weeks in the realm of communication. Decisions you make will be misinformed and contracts you sign will probably be reneged. Terrible things are supposed to happen all around, and they usually do for me. I tend to find myself on some manic binge, ending up in strange places at 5 in the morning and getting in trouble with the law. Because my life has been fantastically boring since the last time we spoke, I did not get myself into any life altering predicaments, and it was purely for lack of trying. Most of my days have been spent working my ~shit day job~ so much that all I ever want to do outside of that is shop online and play drinking games to Rookie of the Year. Of course I’ve been desperate to figure out my next move, and for a while I had a few bright options. I choose to blame the fizzling of those prospects on Mercury Retrograde and face it with the “one door closes, another opens” philosophy…because otherwise I’d just spend the rest of my life dipping french fries in my soft serve at the Burger King under the M train and feeling sorry for myself.
Because I try to always follow through with things I say I’ll do and be a “yes” person, from time to time I have decided to go out and show my face. I realize I need to meet new people, and sometimes when I do I feel great. Other times I’ve followed friends out to their somewhat intimate gatherings full of people I’ve never met where everyone asks me if I’m visiting from out of town and I fall into a k-hole of social awkwardness. Either way I usually just end up taking selfies in the bathroom.
The most exciting things that have happened in the last month are that Rainbow had a sale on crop tops, Hannah dyed my hair brown, I started walking a puppy three times a week, and I finally bought a bed. I’ve heard most Americans have them but I’ve just been sleeping on mattresses laid directly on the floor ever since I discarded my canopy bed when I was 14. The worst was a flea infested twin sized pad from my childhood bunk bed that I threw in the corner of my room and slept on for 5 months last year after I moved out of my ex’s house. The fleas were my cats’ fault, but really my fault. I still find it funny the number of one-night suitors I actually had the guts to bring back to that place, and laughable how many never complained, even with coffee cups and kitty litter everywhere. One of them even dated me for 3 months. Now, though, at the wrinkled age of 23 I try not to even have one night stands because the idea of bringing strangers into my house repulses me. I have to wonder if that’s because I’m appropriately embarrassed by the unfinished nature of my bedroom and the apparent lack of hygiene it projects or if I simply can’t stand strangers enough to commute with them back to my Bushwick apartment, or some combination of the two.
This hasn’t stopped me from giving my number to the wrong people, like the the creepy short guy that followed me home on Sunday night or the dude from Ok Cupid who offered me molly to “party” with him and his girlfriend. Needless to say I’ve changed a couple contacts in my phone to Do Not Pick Up. Somehow I have no interest in sleeping with people I don’t have “real feelings” for, and I definitely don’t have the energy to put myself such a volatile situation of sleeping with someone I actually like.
In the meantime I can’t stop getting shit from the people around me, and I’ve taken it much more personally than usual. People questioning my intelligence based on my open sexuality (I’ve always failed to see a connection between the two but apparently there is one?), women who compliment me with an insulting tone (“your boobs are so BIG”). Someone told me during sex recently that I hate my life but that I’m lying to myself (big question mark on that one) And a coworker pleasantly dispensed the info that my college major was totally useless and that’s why I’m a receptionist. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was probably just mad because she’s 37, just went back to undergrad and recently had a nervous breakdown over writing a 2.5 page paper double spaced. Still, if these things are upsetting me it’s because I’m not 100% happy with myself, and that’s on me.
There is always going to be someone hating you for who you are or who they decide you are. Out of fear, out of jealousy, or purely for the fun of it. Negativity is a fucking contagion, and you should never let the fact that someone hates their life mean you have to hate yours too. I’m constantly encountering women who hate other women for being sexual, or for being confident, or because of a man. Women who backwardly find threatening the outspokenness of another. People who are nauseated by other people’s success. People who offer career connections in exchange for sexual favors (a thing I naively thought only happened in movies like Legally Blonde). I try not to let it affect me, but about half the time it does.
Fine, so I’m still figuring out my reason for getting up in the morning. But I’m still going to do it. You can’t go through life believing you’re as trashy or as stupid or as sad as people say. If you want to be better, be better. But don’t allow yourself to be shamed.
My career and my love life may remain virtually nonexistent, but I’m still holding on to my posi vibes and taking my chances. Even if I fuck up royally and it feels like a kick in the gut, at least I know I’m trying. After all, you are the only one who can make yourself feel truly awful. No one else. And isn’t that nice?