I’m being asked (or have been asking myself) to believe a great many unbelievable things of late.
Whether via ‘The Artist’s Way’, self help books, creativity workshops or even ‘The Real Housewives of Atlanta’, the message is that all I have to do is figure out what I want, visualise it, focus/concentrate/pray/all three and it will surely come my way.
Well, right now, whilst I pray, hope and ask for enlightenment, love and a sense of purpose and direction on a daily basis, I’m still waiting for something/someone/anything to happen as nearly a year has passed since my ‘crash and burn’ and I still haven’t made any tangible progress with regard to forging a new, self sufficient life for myself.
Maybe I’m not asking nicely enough?!
Don’t get me wrong; I think leaving my job and damn near having a total breakdown was probably one of the best things that has happened to me, as I’m starting to figure out who I really am (well, probably more like who I’m really not) and no longer have to pretend on a daily basis that everything is alright whilst wanting to jump out of a 10th floor window, but I have been dreading bumping into old friends or colleagues from that particular world, as I have no clue what I can say to them.
And now one of them, H, wants to meet up with me to ‘catch up’.
I can just imagine it.
‘Oh hi! How are you? Really? Oh that’s great, good for you how amazing!’
Big smiles all round.
‘What? Who, me?’
My smile faltering somewhat….
‘Well I’ve been training to be a yoga teacher…..
Cue wide eyes and big enthusiastic smile from H.
….but not sure I’m going to follow it through as it’s all a bit cultish, and if I don’t join and do as the Guru says they might burn me in a Wicker Man….’
H’s eyes look confused and smile diminishes somewhat.
‘I’ve had some cool ideas for new businesses…..’
Relieved eyes and some cooing about my being very creative.
‘….but I haven’t really had the bottle to run with them as I’m scared to do it on my own….’
H’s eyes will suddenly, tinge with just a little impatience/contempt, as she glances down to look at her watch, no doubt hoping for a swift escape.
‘I’ve been on a few dates recently…..’
Eyes widen again. Something worth gossiping about at last?
‘….but nothing much has come of any of them, apart from one guy who thinks I’m a cardboard cut out stand in for his ex wife….’
H’s eyes say ‘BORED NOW!!’ and mouth makes soothing, apologetic noises as she picks up her coat, squeezes out of her seat, and her legs transport her towards the exit.
‘But I am getting better, being kinder and discovering more about myself every day!’
‘AND I’M NOT AS BONKERS AS I USED TO BE! HONEST!!’
Door slams shut.
You see my problem?
Yes, I know I shouldn’t care what other people think, but I hate to think of my ex boss or those smug oh-so-sane bitches at Wankers R Us smirking away on hearing any such thing, or worse still, that I end up lying to her and making something up just so that doesn’t happen, as all they’ll see is that I’ve been out of work for a year because I’m still mad (true) and can’t get a job.
So, it seems to me that it’s all very well, this ‘Ask, Believe, Receive’ cosmic ordering malarky, but it doesn’t seem to be working for me at all.
On the job front, I have also been applying for roles (with some trepidation admittedly) that might both fill my wallet and my heart, but strangely enough, no one seems too keen to employ a 50 year old woman who’s been out of work for nearly a year.
On the dating front, I have finally deleted my online dating file and given the fuck up as nothing ever has or ever will come from being on them. Then again, maybe you have to have Kim Zolciak levels of bullet proof self belief and confidence to attract the right man, settle down and play happy families.
Oh, and it doesn’t hurt to be under forty, bleach blonde, with massive tits and an even larger bank account.
Seriously this woman and women like her totally fascinate and fill me with admiration. When you see old photos of her, she was far from being a looker. Did that stop her? Hell, no. She dyed her hair, had lots of surgery, bought a pile of wigs, had her tits done, got herself a sugar daddy, landed a TV show, shamelessly exploited her day to day life for rubberneckers like me, met the love of her life and made a fortune to boot.
Maybe if I hadn’t been so fucked up, I could have done the same? Without the tits, wigs, sugar daddy and reality TV escapades of course. I think.
But this is the thing. Miss Kim probably knew who she was, what she wanted and what she was prepared to do to get it pretty much from day one and set out to do just that, never letting anything get in her way, as is usually the case with successful people in all walks of life.
As for me, a line from a song from ‘Little Shop of Horrors’ springs to mind:
‘Poor, all my life I’ve always been poor
I keep askin’ God what I’m for
And he tells me, “Gee, I’m not sure
“Sweep that floor, kid!”‘
So whereas Kim Z is the equivalent of a blonde juggernaut, moving steadily, confidently and relentlessly through life, achieving her aims, crushing anything that gets in her way, I am the proverbial tent in the wind, blowing this way and that, occasionally skimming the ground, lingering, but never long enough to hammer just one peg into the earth and create a starting point for myself.
But what is the answer? Wait until I can love and have confidence in myself and maybe then enlightenment will come my way? How long will that take? Confidence is all very well, but will be fuck all use if I’m living in a cardboard box on the Embankment? Or just have a punt, run with something and try something else if it doesn’t work out?
I’d like a clue, please God. Just one fucking clue. Pretty please. With a cherry on the top.
And if nothing comes of this desperate prayer then I’m going to give myself an ‘Ask, Believe, Receive’ reprieve, and get the fuck on with something as if I don’t start earning soon, I will end up sweeping floors….