I truly panicked over money last Tuesday.
I hoped my landlord forgot that I was renting a room from him. I tried to avoid running into him in the halls, but that didn’t work. He’s always there smiling and nodding his head at me saying, “Why hello there Melanie!” His old dog sniffing and nuzzling my leg.
“Hi Micky, good to see you. Hi Einstein.” I bend over to pet his dog.
I met with a Clipper Magazine consultant last Tuesday to try and set up some coupon deals and online vouchers – all done for free until I sell the vouchers online – they take a cut.
I sat in the conference room with the advertising guy while Micky played fetch with Einstein in the hallway.
Advertising guy – “Customers trickle in slowly with these deals, but unlike Groupon and Living Social, our customers stick.”
All advertisers say that their customers stick. Groupon and living social buyers hop from one deal to the next and will most likely never see me again.
He wasn’t very reassuring that I’ll make a lot of money from this. So I panicked.
After the meeting (which lasted an hour), I went upstairs to my mailbox behind the receptionists desk and there I found the invoice for my first months rent.
I paid Micky my rent using the rest of the money in my saving account and headed to Happy Tuesday to meet Dave and drink my cares away.
“I have to pray. There’s nothing left for me to do but pray. Please god help me. Please god help me.”
So far what I accomplished to set up my business is:
Create a website
I think that’s it. Living Social and Groupon won’t bother talking to me until I’m more established and have a bigger online presence with customer reviews. For now I have to stick with the little guys.
I still need to set up a Facebook page, check out Deal of the Day offers in newspapers, get my name listed on Massage therapist finders (which I’m weary about doing because that’s the first place perverts look).
Instead of doing any of that, I’m laying in bed. I’m over-tired from lack of sleep and stressed about people and clients. My head feels like a big lumpy knot. Beer and laughter are the only things to make it better but I’m too tired for anything. I can barely write.
And I’m wishing that my co-worker remembered to bring me her Assassins Creed game. I would be playing that right now instead of caving into temptations to write.
I’m over tired from lack of sleep. I haven’t slept in two days because of staying up all hours of the night searching YouTube for information about the drugs I’ll be taking in Colombia. The more I research, the more I wish I never signed up for this Spiritual Retreat.
One such drug, or medicine as they call it, is Ayahuasca. It’s the most powerful hallucinogen on the planet. Many people who ingested it, claim that it was the most terrifying experience of their life. It was like living inside a nightmare that wouldn’t end.
Ayahuasca connects you to the spirit world and the visions produced are supposed to enlighten and guide you into your higher self. And for some people, this means confronting their worst fears and overcoming them – to stand up against them and not be afraid. It’s both terrifying and life altering. It breaks down the ego and personality. It shows you your weaknesses. It’s not fun, but it is believed to work better than spending years in self-analysis talking to a therapist.
I’m terrified already. I’m a lot more scared now than the time I jumped out of a perfectly good airplane.
I’m picturing myself being there, sitting cross-legged in a circle of my peers. All of us praying, the musicians chanting and strumming their instruments when the shaman announces to everyone, “Now’s the time. Drink. Drink!”
People vomit and pee their pants. I take off all my clothes and run around naked, jumping into a river to drown. I’ve never been this scared in all my life.
Besides having to face the river of death on my own and being completely broke, I’m also dealing with people who are confusing the hell out of me.
My friend Steph is flying in from Minnesota to visit us, so one of my ex-friends decided to finally contact me after months of cutting me off and leaving my gaping wounds to fester. This is the girl who taken K’s side when I got back from Nepal, yelled at me, blamed me for everything, left me a crying whimpering mess – kicked me out of her house and hasn’t called me since. She left me for dead and now wants to be friends again with no apology on her end. How the hell am I supposed to respond to that? I feel like a beaten housewife who keeps taking on abuse. I honestly don’t know what people want from me.
They say I don’t respond or communicate my feelings, but I’m the only one of them who writes a blog confessing everything I have in me. I rip open a vein every time I sit in front of this thing. And from them I get nothing but hate and anger.
I don’t understand people, I’ll never understand them. I’ve done nothing wrong to anybody but I still get beat downs. It makes me so upset. People make me feel autistic.
Last night Kristi also contacted me wanting to be friends again. I like Kristi, she’s a lot of fun but I’m honestly scared to hang out with her again. The first time I can’t respond to her text, the first time I can’t answer her call – I’ll feel utterly guilty and miserable. She’ll get mad at me again. I know she’ll get mad at me again.
These people have obvious problems with me, so why are they even bothering with me? I feel yanked around. Do they care about me or not? I think they’re just bored.
I had a client the other day. I massaged him a few times before, and wasn’t looking forward to massaging him again. He’s a big black guy who keeps asking me out. He’s high on himself thinking that he’s god’s gift to women, so when I tell him I’m not interested, he calls me a lesbian.
Him – “What do you, like girls or somethin’?”
It is one of the most annoying remarks to have to deal with. Not the liking girls part, I can care less about that, but just his narcissistic attitude that something has to be wrong with me if I don’t want to date him. It revolts me. HE revolts me.
Him – “You ever date a black guy before?”
Him – “Why not?”
Refusing him makes me feel racist – that’s what he wants me to feel.
I don’t want to massage him anymore, but I can’t tell my co-workers that. I already told them I didn’t want to work on this other guy (who is also black), so they’ll think I’m a racist. The other black guy that used to request me was super obese, not getting any healthier and telling ME that I’m the one who has to fix him.
“I’ll come in every week if I have to.”
He was so big that he snored while he was awake.
There was nothing sexual with him and I felt completely safe, but massaging him made me miserable. I did it for 2 or 3 years. I can’t fix a persons bad knee’s and hips when all they do all day is sit around and eat, then come to me to complain.
So anyway, that’s my life right now.
Dave told me something last night that I put in my last blog post.
Dave – “Why do you think I keep you around? All I want you for is to get laid.”
He said it jokingly, but then he mentioned my blog and how he was going to get the link from one of my ex-friends, but she decided not to give it to him.
Me – “Did she give it to you?”
Dave looks down at his phone – “Naw she deleted it.”
Me – “She deleted it?”
Dave – “She said she didn’t want me thinking bad of you.”
Me – “Oh.”
Then he went on to tell me that K tells people I’m a liar and that I paid a tour group to take me over the Himalayan pass and that I was completely safe the whole time.
Me – “I didn’t hire anyone! I was lucky to have found them. It was the night before going over the mountain and they overheard my conversation about me doing it alone. They approached ME at the last minute.”
Dave – “Oh well, that’s not what she says.”
She continues to gossip and tell stories about me. Wasn’t I punished enough in Nepal? When’s it going to stop?
People are vicious and spiteful. I can’t handle it. I’m way too sensitive. And maybe I am naive and innocent, it makes it all the worse.
My phone is on silent.
I’m burnt out from late nights out, beer, YouTube, zero money, crazy people, the prospect of facing pure terror. I’m so worn out. It’s 7:31 pm on a Saturday and all I can think about doing is turning off the lights and going to sleep. I hope Kristi doesn’t call. If I miss her phone call, the cycle will repeat itself.
Are these thoughts / fears / worries of mine normal to have for a 32-year-old woman? Or am I on my own here…
- Is the LivingSocial Credit Card Worth Getting? (cardhub.com)
- LivingSocial to sell merchandise, compete with Groupon (usatoday.com)
- Groupon reaches to the skies to deliver even less-qualified customers (venturebeat.com)
- LivingSocial to begin selling merchandise (boston.com)
- Spiritual Retreats to Machu Picchu (mysticfare.typepad.com)