So it finally happened. I decided to write my very first blog post ever. I have had all of these ideas floating around in my head for what feels like forever, and then one day after being bullied (encouraged) by friends to just do it, I said “Eff it! I’m gonna write my thoughts and feelings down and then share them with a bunch of strangers on the Internet!” And it actually sounded like a good idea…which should have been an immediate indicator that this shyt was about to get real and I might want to re-think my decision.
What could have possessed me to take on such a cliché and yet terrifying step towards public exposure as writing a blog? What makes me think that anyone would ever really give a crap about what I write or think or feel? What makes me so narcissistic to think that people will look forward to my posts or secretly make me their best friend in their heads while saying, “Yes ma’am!!” when reading my latest rant on this, that or whatever? I guess because I feel like I cannot and am not the only person sitting back every day trying to put the last few years of their life together.
A bit of background: I am a 34 and a half year old Black woman from Texas. I live in Miami now, am a proud Howard University graduate (The REAL HU!) where I studied exactly what my parents wanted me to study. I never worked because I was always supposed to go to law school…which I never wanted to do. I graduated with honors, came home for a year, and then ended up in Los Angeles less than one year after my father suddenly died with law books and law school loans out of my ass. And then I quit. Just walked the fcuk away after a year and a summer and never looked back. Ifinished my first year with a near nervous breakdown, average-ish grades, and no fcuking clue about what I was actually supposed to do with my life. I spent my entire life being such a great student that I had no idea how to be an adult.
So then I started to make every bad decision that should have been made in undergrad as an adult. I got into debt, worked jobs I hated for less money than I should have been making, I traveled, I fell in love and lost myself, fell out of love and numbed myself. I moved thinking I could outrun my problems, but the way interest compounds on your problems means that eventually they catch up to you and it is never pleasant when that happens. Which brings me to this very moment. Sitting at my dining room table desperately trying to figure out what comes next. How does a person make such a dramatic life turn that they look back in five years after they have a book deal, new career, loving family, etc. and say that these dark times were worth it? Were necessary? For this lady here – she starts a blog. A place to draw in a tribe of other people just trying to sort it all out. One day at a time. One glass of wine at a time. I don’t know what my greatness is or how to help other people find theirs. But I can be open and honest and painfully exposed and hopefully we can all help each other figure out how to take the next steps into our Greatness.
And this shyt ain’t easy. I am an extremely private person on Social Media – I have a private Facebook page, don’t use SnapChat, I refuse to Tweet, etc. because I don’t like people seeing just how imperfect I am. My thighs touch and all of my 5’10” of height is in my upper-body. That is imperfect enough for the common person to see, as far as I am concerned. I mean, do you really want to let people into your thoughts, fears, insecurities, inappropriate and off-color jokes and open yourself up to their ridicule, their ire, their conflicting opinions? Do you? DO YOU REALLY?!? You have to be drinking pretty heavily from the Fcuk It Bucket to decide to do this, but if there’s one thing I do well it is drink <shrug>.
So here we are…wherever ‘here’ is supposed to be. The inaugural post for Cheaper Than Therapy – the blog where I will talk about real life shyt because blogging is cheaper than seeing an actual therapist. It’s also less destructive than drinking a bottle of Chardonnay a night while trying to figure out where it all went so terribly wrong and how do you make everything fall into place without movie magic or three wishes from a creepy genie in a bottle.
So many questions. So many random thoughts running through my head at any given part of my day. So many overwhelming feelings paired with underwhelming results to sort through. How did I get to be 34 years old, unwed, single af, and have no kids except for my furbaby? Where did my time go? What is my passion and how do I harness it to make money off of it without actually having to get up everyday for work making someone else rich or their dreams come true? How do I change careers? Do I relocate again and keep running? Where would I go? How do some people have so much money to travel at my age and I am trying to clip coupons for my weekly Aldi shopping trip to save money for my monthly Target run? How are some people on the Gram and SnapChat looking like they’re living their Best Lives EVER and I am watching HGTV on a Saturday night trying to figure out how a 24 year old recent graduate can afford a mortgage on a $500,000 house when I am just one of the lucky few in Miami to not need a roommate?
Guess it’s time to start figuring out what next with the help of my ancient MacBook Air, my innermost thoughts/jokes/fears/confusion, and my bottle <ahem> glass of vino. I most assuredly cannot be the only person who has no fcuking clue what they’re doing, but like I said before…blogging is a helluva lot Cheaper Than Therapy.