30 and broke
2016 has been a great year, literally too much for me. If I accumulate all my past professional, personal, and social experiences and grind them into one big smoothie, it will still seem insipid compared to the experience I have accumulated this year and this year alone. Before you criticize me for getting myself into a soul-strangling mess, let me praise myself a bit. I deserve some praise. After all, it takes a lot of courage to leave everything you’ve worked for behind and move to a new country with the hope of making it big.
Let me break this down:
The city girl moves to another city? Shouldn’t it be a difficult transition?
Moving to another city, how bad can it be? Hey, she still knows how to fit into the fast-paced city life, she still has an idea of what to expect! My bad, I underestimated the transition in more ways than one. Another city is not “just” another city. It’s a whole new world! The people, the culture, the rules and regulations, everything is nothing you would expect. With such minimal knowledge and know-how, I was immediately wrong.
dirty dating games
Not only did I leave behind my job, home, and family, I also left all affiliations I had with my ex-boyfriend. He wanted to explore dating territory in a new place among unknown homo sapiens. Most women are programmed to want love, find a husband, and create adorable babies. I am no different! The move was motivated not only by professional aspirations, but also by love and marriage. I wanted to experience it all. Unfortunately, going out as a rookie had devastating results. Countless dates began on coffee tables and conveniently ended there. Finding “the one” took me nine months and two dozen terrible dates.
Money! Now You See Me, Now You Do not!
Let me explain the financial disaster program that I am presently introducing. I’m broke because I don’t have a job, I lost my job because I didn’t get paid for months. Yes, my previous employers stopped paying, period! Oh, and I forgot to mention the psychological trauma that came with the lack of payment. I took matters into my own hands and exercised my legal rights not to work for free. Now here I am, 3 months unemployed, living on a minimum income that barely covers my rent.
What makes my issue worse is the limited availability of resources. Financial resources will eventually run out. Did I somehow manage to rack up a huge credit card bill? When and how did that happen is a question I often ask myself. And retail therapy is the answer I conveniently provide to soothe my aching existence. The funny thing is that I managed to convince myself that I’m depressed because I’m broke and that’s why I need to spend on myself to feel better. I basically gave myself over to retail therapy with money I didn’t have.
Where is the glory of being independent?
How do I start my day? There is no beginning or end. There is no schedule. I’m not going to deny the fact that being unemployed comes with the privilege of endless sleep. I can sleep until noon, stay up all night and watch movies all day!
But there is no glory in being unemployed. There comes a point where you start to feel like a loser. You feel useless. So here I am, living independently, struggling to make ends meet and struggling to keep my sanity intact. I hear people tell me how lucky I am to be here alone with complete freedom to make my own decisions. The truth is far from everything good. Life is hitting me and I keep swinging back like a crazy blind woman, hoping to break that imaginary piñata and win a jackpot!