Okay, my present mental state is not well at all, and I know that because I had to rewrite this sentence thrice before I was even remotely satisfied with it. Additionally, I am going through an enormous life crisis at the moment, which has, sadly, but prudently, made me question my life and career choices.
Up until sometime ago, I was on top of the world. I had a job, and a very well paying one at that. I was shopping, eating, and writing to my heart’s content, like an over sized bear trying to stack itself up with food for the coming winter. Then, one day, I received an email informing me that my contract with my client (the one who was sustaining my food supply) had been suspended.
As if it wasn’t enough that the news was the first thing I saw when I woke up in the morning, I found out that I could not resume work until the issues with the client’s account (the reason for the contract having been suspended in the first place) were resolved. Do you know what that felt like?
I could visualize the money draining from my account, as if the plughole in the metaphorical drain in my vault had been pulled mercilessly. Like an episode in a cartoon, clouds covered my sun, and rain came pouring down on my parade, removing all traces of a fair ever having been there.
This was followed by moaning, groaning, and ultimately, budget cuts. To those who have had similar experiences, I hear you! It was physically painful to watch cash come out of the ATM knowing that none was going back in. A week later, I started applying for more jobs. Sadly, I haven’t heard back from any yet. I am keeping my fingers crossed though.
I think this is as good a time to freak out as any.
I had been having dreams of doing this all my life (well, this and traveling). The calculations in my head were perfect! I could sustain myself by working eight hours a day on my computer my entire life! However, this life change, as I call it, forced me to rethink. I couldn’t depend on freelance jobs as my primary source of income, because there were chances that there often wouldn’t be any. And as they always do, the bills would keep pouring in. I could die starving, or be evicted from my house.
Like a bad apple that every other around it, one thought led to the other, and resulted in what I have now: a mental block. And this doesn’t seem to be doing any wonders for my self-esteem:
What good is it to have pile upon pile of articles, press releases, ebooks, brochures, designs, guest posts, academic papers, scripts, reports, and other materials when they cannot land me a job? What good is five gigabytes of written matter when I cannot add to it? Add that to the fact that I am a single, unsociable, almost sociopath woman with a roommate loved by the world, my life sucks; and I’m not saying that with the despair of a damsel in distress, but with the surprise of an unaware, pessimistic, workaholic author. A better way to imagine the latter would be to think of Max from the show ‘Two Broke Girls’.
Well, I’m going to keep trying until either my self-esteem or a potential client caves in. Broke and pessimistic is not a good combination.
On the bright side, my desktop looks pretty clean.
The Scribe 