And here I am, hello world, hello you. Here we are. All of these moves that I have made, all of the loaded gestures are part of a renewal. I once read that every cell renews itself after seven years. In a few weeks it will be seven years since I lost my partner to pancreatic cancer, all of the tears that every inch of my body wept are now bone dry gone. And I feel like I am getting closer to some kind of inner wellbeing nirvana Shangri la like existence.
Rome didn’t fall overnight.
All of my debilitating bad habits are being crushed like ants beneath the powerful hoofs of a whimsically masochistic streak that can be set to good. I see you in my rearview mirror, my goodbad self. Recent accomplishments in my repertoire of ill fated mistaken ideas, are swimming with my bare naked, heavily tattooed to camaflouge the scars, I gave up chocolate for lent. I committed to more frequent flights and boat rides home, including Christmas times. I may repair my broken down relationship with my Father. I sweat hard every day in order for my body to regenerate, to beat the blues, to live to fight another day. I am also making hearty, steep, mountainous financial moves in order to free myself from the cage of my student debt. I am paying off my twenties.
Holistically and spiritually, I see debt and health as one. I do not believe that I will be able to live free within my physical body until all debts are settled. Three years ago I started to pick apart my life again. The one thing that has crushed me like a bug in the ground, has been the financial self harming I did after losing my one true love. The responsible part of me died. The sensible, intelligent part of me died. I pushed my further and further into denial. I fell head first knees deep into a destructive relationship, with a man who made me feel like I was never in the room. I used all of my financial resources to try and make him see me. We lived like superheroes, I was the invisible girl and he was Batman. I tried to keep up with a lifestyle and relationship that haunted and taunted my self-esteem. We lived beyond our emotional means. I lived beyond my financial means.
“Playtime is over; now comes the time for lessons.” (Henrik Ibsen, A Doll’s House)
I return to financial wellbeing as my only hope, Obi Wan. I stopped using sharp instruments to harm me and I resorted to plastic. The plastic debit card. I kept this all very quiet and I panicked monstrously alone and sequestered this from everyone and me. I denied it all. I ran away from it all. I know a few of my close friends who skipped the country to run away and hide from their debt, their demise, their ruin. We no longer live in an age of austerity. I was a student in a time that banks would lend you ten year’s wages as long as you could write your own name, real fancy, real nice, along the dotted line. I have never come clean about this to myself or other people until now. Unable to cope with the large amount of money that I borrowed like it was some kind of magic wand to fix me, now I’m giving it all back. I am no longer ashamed. I am in control of my dark financial past. I leave tea lights in every corner of this room I kept dark and locked for so long. I only hope that it’s not too late. Although the temptation to have very little faith in me weighs heavy, I’m moving. I’m coming closer to vanquishing this dark cloud. One by one. And stone by stone. This house of debt, will all fall down.. . And then I can really start living.
I have done my time.