Earlier, I’d reached out to a few friends asking for help with gas. No one responded. No one. I quickly crumpled up and trashed the idea that I was being ignored on purpose. Not because it was untrue, but because regardless of its validity, that particular truth wasn’t going to stop my anxiety attack or bring any kind of relief.
Still, the collective silence aided my paranoia. I was over myself. I was so ready to be the person who never had to ask anyone for anything in regards to my survival. I yelled at God, “I’m over this stupid fucking lesson WHY WONT YOU LET ME TAKE CARE OF MYSELF”
And I don’t know if it’s the truth, but perhaps I’ve been too humble all along. Perhaps in my carrying the weight of responsibility for my assault I was stopping myself from manifesting the very best. I was energetically punishing myself and it wasn’t humility at all, it was punitive and prohibitive and for that, Jessica, I am so sorry. I didn’t know.
I don’t have the energy to keep fighting for things I’m bound to lose. All I can do is let them go. I can’t keep worrying about paying rent when I know I am not in a position to do so and trying to do so has only cost me in other ways. It’s time to pivot. It’s time to lean not into my own understanding. It’s time to ACCEPT that right now? I’m a broke ass charity case but that is not the end of my story.