But… my head is clear enough to write and sacrificing my work over some bullshit is not my purgative. It’s not what warrior’s do.
What I wrote last week was a prophecy of what would happen hours later to my ass; my life would once again become the past. Did I see it coming? No.
I busted my ass helping a person who I set my past on fire for and drove across the country for to later be told a number of reasons, (after being told what was wrong with me, which was a frequent occurrence), that they’d be leaving to sort their shit out and I’d be left here. My overhead would double and all the help I had offered was denied. Due to the current situation I can’t get into it. I’m still on eggshells so to speak and well, I’m still getting over felling like I was getting read my Miranda Rights everyday. And I fucking hate those…It’s no way to live, but it’s weird times and figured to try to wait it out and see if things would return to normal, which was the polar opposite of what had been months before.
This following week was like being pummeled with a ton of bricks one by one, and by yesterday I was left in an almost barren apartment. Luckily having landed a good job out here I can keep a roof over my head. And this isn’t a pity party narrative; it’s just a story of how life can flip on you like a dime and how if you take a risk, you have to be prepared for it to go south… No pun intended.
Prepared for the worst, I was. I knew at any time this could happen. You see signs but if you give a shit you try. Maybe I should have said fuck it, but in my years of solitude I became more Zen and developed a little more patience and understanding.
So I set my past on fire. Then the semblance of the new fire I started to ignite a new future was snuffed out in the blink of an eye. It makes your fucking head spin, adrenaline spike and keeps your mind racing at the speed of a fucking race car.
And then it stops. The smoke clears. You look around. You drop to the floor and go, “what the fuck?” In my case multiple times.
And you sit. You feel. Like shit. You process. You plan on how to move forward and heal and survive. You stand up, somewhat wobbly, look in the mirror and see that the fire in your eyes hasn’t been extinguished, it’s still there only burning brighter than ever, even though you feel like a half rotted corpse. You feel the fire start to burn through your body, your mind, your soul, you breathe in, turn around and start doing shit to THRIVE.
Life isn’t about surviving the shit storms, it’s about thriving after them, coming out of them an even stronger warrior. Knowing you got even more tools in your toolbox. Even more knowledge of signs to turn around, what you won’t tolerate and most importantly, what the fuck you want. And we rebuild.
Which is exactly what I’m doing. In a new place, new situation, (well, it’s still me and the Helbeast flying solo which is nothing entirely new, but you get my point), creating new shit and building a fucking empire. Rebuilding today starting with the platform. It won’t happen overnight, but looking back the right way, it’s what needed to happen for me to move forward and thrive in my work and give the world what I threatened. A new book, a podcast, a YouTube channel and weekly rants on here. This crazy shit storm I weathered only amped that up. Cleared the path and now there’s nothing to stop me. I mean maybe there will be, life is funny like that, there’s always obstacles, but after going through this battle, surviving and already pushing myself to thrive, I’ll take them as they come and kick them out of my fucking way. That’s what warriors do.
You hit an obstacle, get sucked up in a shit storm, you go through the motions like I stated above, and you get the fuck up and kick the shit out of the obstacle in your way, (not literally unless it’s literally an inanimate object and you won’t break your fucking foot in the process). Nothing can stop you but you.
And like all colossal piles of horse shit there’s a silver lining… my new book begins and was born out of not being able to find a place where I live now and be held up from being with the person I loved, with cancelled flights and multiple layovers so I could sit and feel awful for over 12 hours alone inside my head wondering if my entire life had been a Waste… Shit gets weird in airports and watching a dream circle the bowl… And it’s only so fitting that that dream got flushed on me last Monday. Waste just got another load of material dumped into it. So thank you, Life. I can use that.
And as always, yes I have to write this to protect myself; all names will be changed, exact dates not provided and things left up to the “creative mind” to be assumed or taken as one likes. That’s why my work is published under the Creative Non-Fiction, it keeps me from being sued. Nobody has time for that shit.
Disclaimer out of the way, back to the main point. Even if you feel like shit, the rug has been pulled out from under you, then you get wrapped up in it and flung down a hill, the rug eventually unwinds and you get the fuck up, dust yourself off, scope out your new surroundings and situation and move forward with more fire and fury than ever fucking before. You may be tired, but you’ve got that shit in you. You can do it and I sure as fuck am.
Until next time, Kiddos. This Bitch has work to do.