Grounded

I’ve been meaning to write for nearly 4 months, but life got the best of me. So much has happened since I last wrote, that I don’t even know where to start.

Should I fill you in on the grueling 3 months I spent on Zoloft- only to find the depression replaced with a never ending brain fog that made writing nearly impossible and caused me to shit myself silly every morning for three months? Or how depression and stress forced me to end my journey a month sooner than I planned, leaving me with no cash on hand and less than a month to find housing before my Belize trip? No, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that.

Maybe I could write about the transition from carliving to mainstream society and how I quickly went into debt to pay for 1st month, last month’s rent and all the things it takes to live in a house- towels, linens, pots, pans, spices, light bulbs, hangers, utensils, a mop, a bucket, a broom, a comforter, Tupperware…you get the idea.

Perhaps I could share with you the magic of Guatemala- the beauty of the Tikal and Yaxha ruins- the excitement of kayaking Lake Peten, with howler monkeys swinging above me in the jungle trees? I suppose that would be a great place to start, only then we’d have to talk about how that was crushed under the disappointment of Belize, where I was stupid exhausted and anxious from starting Zoloft and lost my footage of snorkeling with sea turtles and all my pictures of Guatemala. How I spent the entire last day of my vacation crying and obsessing in my hotel room. No, perhaps I will save that for another post, when the memories aren’t so fresh.

I suppose I could just fast forward to the bitter sweetness of the present-  I could write about how I spend $1,300 a month for a quaint, fully furnished English basement that I rarely enjoy because I work two jobs. How rent has made paying for doctors appointments out of pocket and paying off my remaining student loan debt nearly impossible. How I just returned from yet another trip to Belize for my 30th birthday, that ended in moments of bliss mixed with quiet disappointment and the heaviness of a failed attempt at redemption. Or how the random bouts of anaphylaxis and night sweats I had before heading to Belize may be indicative of a chronic, life long autoimmune disorder that is also the cause of my OCD and depression? But I’m also not quite ready to write about that either.

Or what about your boy Trump and the assault on the Earth, communities of color and the possibility of loosing protection for pre-existing medical conditions? Certainly not, as I’m sure you need a break from that train wreck anyways.

Don’t get me wrong- it’s not all doom and gloom. There are pockets of wonder and adventure and joy from delving into my spirituality more deeply and peace from a renewed sense of self, which I promise I’ll get to. It’s just my heart is heavy about this past year and I don’t feel compelled to narrate my story in sequence. Plus I’ve been questioning my motive for blogging. Is this another delusion of ego, or is this meaningful and cathartic? And if it is the latter, why not just journal and get it all out? Why do I feel the need to be heard, witnessed, understood? Why do I feel like this is part of something bigger? A book maybe?  And if that’s the case, do my words speak to you? Do they move you and stir something profound in you or just capture your attention for a fleeting minute?

I guess what I am trying to say is, I am still here. Still struggling, still questioning, still trying to reach out to humanity across the great digital divide and hopefully find some clarity in the process. Still craving financial freedom to explore and experience my own spirituality.  Still yearning for the part of my story when the Earth and Stars and Universe align and I find my way out of mainstream society to some small plot of land where I can commune wholly with the universe and ask big questions with no plan or agenda or distractions.

For now, I am grounded-learning to be grateful, trying to be strong and ready to share again. Tell me, are you still there?

 

 

 

 

This is Your Brain on Drugs

The sun is shining big and bright, but I can’t shake the feeling of doom. It’s the week before my period, and per usual I can’t stop crying. A mix of exhaustion, tension and depression has clouded my judgement and sense of self. The sun is shining, but I don’t feel it’s warmth or sense it’s brightness. The air is crisp and cool, but I feel hot and bothered. At any moment, I feel like the very sky will collapse on me. It’s been almost 2 months that this doom feeling has lingered over me, and once again Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder is holding me hostage. At this point I am no longer subclinical, meaning I am spending more than an hour a day obsessing and ritualizing.

I have to go back on medicine.

I make an appointment to see my Doctor. It’s a fancy, clean office with fixtures out of Crate and Barrel. I hate coming to the Doctors. I feel like sick people come to the Doctors and leaves their germs and body fluids everywhere. Pretty much everything is contaminated to my brain – the buttons in the elevator, the door handles, the cups and water in the lobby area, along with the magazines and arm rests on the chairs. Pretty standard stuff. I get a cup of water, ignoring the fact that it feels dirty to me and somehow my brain equates hydration with bathroom breaks, with stress. I take a sip, remembering not to gulp. “Come on brain”, I think to myself, “same team”.

I handled the rest of my visit pretty well. Despite a red spot near her keyboard being confirmed as salad dressing and her insistence on hugging me after three rounds of travel vaccinations, none of the obsessions lingered much later. Of course I did shower that evening as planned so I am sure that helped. Still it was hard to convey to my doctor what I have been experiencing. I totally forgot the last time I was there we didn’t talk about my carliving situation so she had no idea what I had been up to. We talked more about the PMDD and how terrible the symptoms of irritability, sadness and anger had become. We decide a low dose of Zoloft before menses is the way to go. I’m hesitant- I don’t like the idea of altering my body with chemicals that retard my brains natural ability to absorb serotonin by blocking receptors (Select Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors, or SSRI’s for short). On the other hand, no amount of positive thinking or perseverance can rouse me from reality. I’m ritualizing way too much and little tasks feel like monumental efforts. The combination of OCD and depression is unbearable and I’ve been down this road before. It doesn’t end at a good place.

For a full day I obsess about whether or not I can keep my drugs in my car or if the cold will do something weird to them or if it’s safe to leave them at work or if someone will take them or taint them. I know what you are thinking, ridiculous right. I spend another 1/2 day pretending I I don’t need the medicine and will stop ritualizing with shear will power. After getting up to use the restroom at work and realizing how anxious and angry and exhausted and trapped I felt with this simple task (I hate the bathroom at work because the trash is located beneath the paper towels. My job is also kind of life sucking at the moment, so the irony of it being the only place I can get a reliable bathroom and check adds to the  drama). So after a moment of brief defeat, I popped the 25 mg of Zoloft in my mouth and drank a glass of water.

Taking medicine is the ultimate mind fuck. I can feel the zoloft ooze over me- a hot swoon of sweaty, focused energy. Everything feels different, almost like someone dipped reality in cocaine cotton balls and stuffed them around my senses.  It feels like I exist in an alternate reality. Maybe that’s why I feel nauseous and sweaty-clearly this is jetlag from traversing the space-time- continuum.

The first few days are the worst. I feel stuffed and tense. I forget to eat and drink. My lower back and legs prickle and tingle. It’s hard for me to fall asleep then it’s hard for me to stay awake. I get the shits and I feel even more anxious than I did before. My body feels twitchy and I want to pace and tick and tap things. I sweat through the nights and my face starts to get oily. I try to write but no words come. Everything is muddled and messy and confusing and my skin is crawling on top of me. Finally, my mind starts to quiet and the energy comes back. I’m focused and alert. For a moment, the clouds part and I can feel the sun again.

I needed this.

#GetYourselfFree

I haven’t been writing as much as I’d like. Between working an extra 24 hours a week at my second job, fighting off obsessions and trying to keep myself motivated and focused at work, I haven’t found the time or mental space to write. Today I decided to take the ½ day off so I could get my emissions testing done and assemble some sort of blog post. Honestly though, my mind is mush and my heart is on fire. Not sure how this post will turn out, but here it goes.

I only have 7 more weeks left of carliving. And while the cooler weather has made life much more comfortable, most days still leave my blood either boiling with frustration or heavy and cold with apathy.  I often find myself googling the price of land when I should be working. Sometimes I steal away in the stairwell at work to cry tears of frustrations and surrender. I utter affirmations under my breathe when I feel I am about to lose my temper- “I am healthy, I am wealthy, I am wise. I have more than enough for everything I need”. “This is temporary”, I tell myself. I give myself pep talks aloud and exercise at the gym. And when that doesn’t work, I eat Dunkin Donuts in the dark and think to myself, “it doesn’t matter”.

On top of all that, I’m constantly navigating my off the grid lifestyle, my new job and the relentless OCD. I’m growing tired of disgusting bathroom run ins- having experienced poop and tampons all over the floor in several bathrooms this week. I opted for public peeing in woody areas, only to find lots of condoms and triggering objects like tissue with blood on it. Who knows what I am even peeing on in the dark and what type of splash back contaminants I have been exposed to.  And to be completely honest, I have a 10 minute ritual planned for leaving this library on account of some questionable red smudges on the door handle and I am not happy about it. Don’t even get me started about how bad I feel, not alerting the group ahead of me about the spots.

You see, OCD is tricky business and I am constantly balancing the desire for comfort, with the need to learn to live with uncertainty. The worst part about all of this, is that it’s the same 2 or 3 obsessions I struggle with over and over and over again- including that damn “off” feeling that leaves me staring at doors and windows. Plus, everything is amplified 4 x’s during the week before my period when my PMDD and depression are the worst. I honestly feel like OCD and money are the two biggest things holding me back in life.  From fears I will let someone bleed out in front of me to new anxieties about getting triggered while traveling, I honestly feel suffocated by OCD and debt. They taunt me and torture me when my spirit is weak, and my spirit is week these days. I hope you all can sit with that, and not just council me to get back on medicine. It hasn’t come to that.

Sorry, I digressed. Today was an awful day and I am delaying a ritual as I write this. Back to the list of other things that suck right now. My eating schedule is also thrown off. I am back to fasting just 16 hours a day and eating the other 8 to make sure I don’t pass out during a double shift. However, these meals are anything but relaxing or restorative. I am constantly stuffing myself during the 30 minute excuse of a break I am assigned at work. On top of that, I have been eating all the free food they provide during busy days, including things like pizza and muffins which lead to urinary incontinence and anxiety.

Most significantly, I spend much more of my time triggered and mildly irritated at work. Yesterday I was fitting a little kid for shoes (more later on how children are still incredibly dirty to me) and her nose just started bleeding. Would you believe that? Out of freaking nowhere- just started bleeding. Her dad looked at me super cool and said, “don’t worry” she gets these all the time”. And here I am, seriously starting to cry, thinking “Oh my god, worse nightmare. And a chronic nose bleeder to boot.” Immediately now, the downstairs public bathroom is dirty and all the shoes she tried on are contaminated to me. Unbelievable really. Then there was blood on the first aid kit at work and on the printer-and not the fake kind of OCD blood- for real blood. Ugh,so triggering. Lastly, I totally forgot you have to learn your co –workers names and smile when people talk to you and play nice in the sand box and what not when you start a new job. Only I don’t like sand and I don’t like square sand boxes or people and…. well, you get the point.

I’m ready for a break. I need a pause before I snap. I thought this journey was about hitting the reset button, pushing past my boundaries and seeking adventure. I thought that after it was all said and done, I would feel some huge sense of accomplishment or some warm, fuzzy sense of self- like that feeling you get after watching a coming of age Indie film. But I was wrong. Apart from exposing some of the rawest, purest, most intense parts of my personality, this journey has opened up a scary new world. One where I can never go back to my old life simply because I can’t unsee my true calling or fall out of love with my desire to live a life free from the anxieties of debt culture and the  burden of conformity. And also because doing so would actually be damaging to my emotional and mental health. I finally realize that I can’t keep doing this- trying to find the perfect job in the perfect state only to find that I feel suffocated by bureaucracy, self-interest and the complexities of office politics and interpersonal dynamics.

It’s time to create a permanent, alternative, debt free, off the grid lifestyle where I  am my own boss, landlord and confidante. I’m ready to let go of birthdays and celebrations, holidays and happy hours, bills and bureaucracy and most importantly, the traditional 9-5 once and for all. I’m ready for quiet spaces where my intellect and curiosity can run a muck like spring melt after the first thaw-where my emotions aren’t suffocated by concrete buildings and white faces in black slacks on overcrowded metro stations. Where my longing to be understood by others is replaced with a longing to understand and experience my purpose on this planet. Where I have space to spread my wings and simply, be me.

As freeing as this may seem, it also makes me feel incredibly vulnerable. I have no idea what my life will look like in 2 years, let alone if I will be happier and less stressed living completely off the grid and working for myself.  What if I fail?  What happens if I don’t try?

The other day at work, I wrote down the following on a sticky note in a moment of teary, desperation- “#GetYourselfFree, April 2019.” This is the day it all goes down. The day I give myself permission to quit my job, buy some land and get the heck out of Washington, D.C. And who knows? Maybe I will only make it another year before I decide to quit and work some meaningless part time job or telework position while building my shipping container house. Maybe someone will tap me on the shoulder with the opportunity of a lifetime. Maybe I will get my TOEFL certification and travel the world. Maybe I will win the lottery or come up with a million dollar idea. Maybe I will catch Hepatitis C and die before I pay off my student loans. Maybe I will fail miserably and end up back at McLean. Who even knows?

For now, you can find me lounging under the cover of some trees in my sweatpants- sleeping bag tucked tight up to my chest with NPR blasting in the background and hand sanitizer at my side.

Only 7 weeks to go.

Anywhere But Here

The weather has cooled to the perfect temperature and I can finally relax. My mind has quieted. So much, that I’ve already begun to plan my year long hiatus from society and the traditional nine to five. I’ve come to realize that public service and working for others is a lot like running full speed into a brick wall with a padded suit and helmet. I constantly ask myself (while running into this metaphorical brick wall)- am I prepared to work this job and live in DC for another 3 years? Can I handle the inefficient system, the bureaucracy, the office personalities and the rising cost of housing- not to mention the difficulties of searching for my life’s purpose in a soulless city?

Okay I know that’s harsh and that I probably sound like a stubborn, impatient millennial that just needs to deal with it. But for reals, I don’t know how you all do it every day and keep a straight face! Some of you all even seem to be enjoying yourselves-totally oblivious to the heavy suit of armor that now adorns your heart. Do you feel safe in that shiny suit of metal armor? I feel like taking a risk-getting out there to do something amazing with my life, is way better than living life in shackles disguised as a shiny suit- one that you have to pay off with interest, might I add.

One thing’s for sure-I’m starting to check out. The honey moon period with my job is over and I feel unfocused, unprepared and  unmotivated. My patience with people is growing thin and I’m withdrawing. On the other hand, Fall is finally here and every thought feels crisp and clear. Living in my car has become a breeze, having mastered the bathroom routine and landed a second job. Yet still, I can’t help but think about what it would be like to work for myself or have some low key telework position that allowed me to get away from it all. If only I didn’t have this job tying me down, I would be any where but here. Exploring the deliciousness of life, traveling or homesteading and spending a lot of time doing nothing in particular at all.

Just when you think you’ve hit rock bottom, you discover that what you’ve really hit is a treasure chest. And with a little muscle, sweat equity and a plan, it’s more than possible to unlock it’s mysteries. This is what I keep telling myself, that this is part of what I’m doing with my life-typing in the dark lot of a library, trying to figure out how I can stop fighting the things I like least about society and discover for myself what life is like on the other side.

 

 

Born This Way

I feel frustrated, unfocused and slightly anxious. My back and neck feel tight- my throat feels scratchy and tense.  I can’t concentrate, much less write. The words that once flowed smoothly from my lips hang like crooked paintings in my mind. Once again, my feeling of inadequacy at work, frustration with interpersonal dynamics and disdain for society has me cursing under my breathe and wanting to fast forward to the part where I up and leave society.

For those of you who don’t know, I have recently begun thinking seriously about taking 1 year away from society to wander aimlessly in search of inspiration and purpose. That means no job, no plans or itinerary. A chance to experience life without a schedule, agenda or to do list- the ultimate experiment in being.  But I can’t leave. Well I suppose I could, and will, but not just yet.There is so much to do. I need to put in at least 2 years with my current job, finish stamping out the last of the OCD rituals and of course, complete my tumble weed journey and pay off my private student loan debt.

In the meantime, I struggle with all the same issues that led me to live in my car. I don’t understand our society with our awkward rules and customs and I could care less about the superficial social interactions that encompass around 98% of all human interaction. Why is it that most people appear content with the status quo and seem to have little interest in finding another way? Why is it that I feel so different from everyone I meet and find it difficult to connect beyond small talk?

I don’t have all the answers but I do know that there is a lot more behind my anger and apathy than just an itch to leave society. I wonder if I was just born hypersensitive, with a nervous system wired to process emotions and information with greater intensity than the average person.  I wonder if I have some underlying hormonal or chemical balance that was triggered by some trauma or maybe I just never learned to process emotions in healthy way as a child.  Is this hyper awareness and hyper sensitivity a fatal personality flaw or one of the most important aspects of my true self I should embrace? Is this want to leave society a defense mechanism I have developed to cope with stress, anxiety and anger or is consciousness guiding me towards my path? Am I a change agent, system buster and counter-culturalist on the path to saving the world, or am I a hyper emotional, attachment-avoidant type on a path to isolation and intolerance?

I think there are two parts of me fighting for a voice. One part of me is extroverted, passionate, open, easily roused, adventurous and sensitive and another is introverted, rigid, focused, pragmatic, and logical. Straddling those parts of me- like living in mainstream society while also trying to leave it, is physically and emotionally taxing. But it wasn’t always so bad. I remember times when I was a child, maybe 5 or 6 running wild and free through the hospital and malls, hiding in places and exploring the world with a joyful curiosity I compare to the feelings I get while traveling. When I ask my mom what I was like as a child, she describes me as rebellious, adventurous, easy, happy and talkative. She said she used to tell me no or stop but I would just keep on going. She thought I had a hearing problem. I heard just fine.

So where did it go wrong? How did I become this analytical, obsessive, counter culturist with minimalist tendencies? I’d like to think a lot of it has to do with growing up in 21st century America and all the technology, societal pressures and limiting beliefs we are battered with on a daily basis. The stress of paying bills, finding a job, finding purpose and connecting with community has flooded our minds with thoughts like, “I don’t have enough money, I’m not good enough, I can’t say no, it’s not fair, I’ll never get ahead, there’s no point, I don’t have enough Facebook friends”, etc, etc. You get the picture. I think these forms of self-oppression, often perpetuated by systems and reinforced by cultural norms (the media, consumption, education, etc) are the reason most people appear to be tech savvy zombies following their peers like lost lambs.  So while a large part of me values paying off my debt and being a responsible and contributing member of society, I’m pretty sure the reason I haven’t left DC was because somebody told me if I worked hard and played by the rules, I would be happy. Unfortunately, I believed them.

Phew. I feel so much better having gotten that off my chest. It’s amazing how healing blogging is and how fundamental writing is to my journey of self-discovery. So yeah, I will probably continue rejecting societal norms, go on random adventures and pursue an unconventional lifestyle until my thirst for freedom has been quenched. And it’s highly likely I’ll continue to express disdain for the status quo and no doubt slip into a rut when I question my tumbling weed journey and allow myself to stew in doubt, anger and apathy.  And not necessarily because I am hypersensitive, passionate and idealistic, but more so because I want to live a life full of child-like wonder and because, I was born this way.

9 Month Update: If Not Now, When?

It’s been an interesting two months, and I’m sure you’re all dying for updates. So even though I have some pressing rants and raves regarding my ongoing existential crisis, I will start with the practical updates so as not to lose the interests of those of you who’ve been following my car living journey.

It’s been an interesting two months, and I’m sure you’re all dying for updates.  So even though I have some pressing rants and raves regarding my ongoing existential crisis, I will start with the practical updates so as not to lose the interests of those of you who’ve been following my car living journey.

So here is what you missed since my last post….

  1. I finally got my car back. It doesn’t drive nearly as well as it did before and now the A/C isn’t working too well and there are still some random whizzing noises I cannot even begin to describe. The stress of the previous repairs is still heavy on my heart so I have given myself a week to not think about it before I take it in for more repairs.|
  2. I completed filming for my upcoming clip in the documentary on Americans struggling to pay off debt, entitled “Just Getting By”. Not only did I make $500 bucks from the opportunity, proving my daily craigslist job search was not pointless, I get to share my story and blog with everyone who will visit their website. I believe filming should be wrapped up by the end of October and I will definitely share the details with you all.
  3. Me after the #bigchop

    I cut off my dreads. I have wanted to do this for several years but loathed the idea of yet another big chop (I have done two in the past 15 years). But after cutting off the back row of dreads two months ago and battling with frequent hair loss and intense scalp pain, I decided to take the plunge. Immediately after, I felt a huge weight off my shoulders- almost as if I was releasing years of depression, anxiety, expectations, limitations and fears I had been carrying with me. A physical and spiritual weight lifted from my shoulders after realizing I wasn’t the same slightly obese 17 year old that chopped off my hair after a failed perm in High School. As a result, I felt stronger and freer- being that my physical appearance seemed a more authentic expression of myself and my lifestyle. Amazingly, I did all of this in what can only be explained as a perplexing, quiet rage that took place at 2 am, over 3 hours in a random hotel outside of Philadelphia. Up to the last second I was doubting myself, and then I became so angry at the back and forth and the fears that I just grabbed the scissors, asked myself “if not now, when?” and then started cutting. It was a quiet act of desperation, which left one part of my hair (the first cut) shorter than all the rest. Nonetheless, it was one of the best decisions I have made in the past year for sure.  I have told myself my hair doesn’t grow and that it will never be long- what a terrible limiting belief shared by many African-American women today! I absolutely love my short hair, and the beautiful, growing soul it adorns. I can’t wait for it to grow past my shoulders.

  4. libetry bell.png
    The Liberty  Bell

    I crossed some more items off my bucket list- two more World Heritage Sites- the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall, where the Declaration of Independence was written, debated and adopted. I also finally visited NYC again where I wandered the streets aimlessly with my niece looking for good eats, urban treats and cheap karaoke. Mission accomplished.

  5. I found a job. After applying to more than 10 jobs, I happily accepted a position today with an outdoor gear company I LOVE. I will only make $11.50 an hour, but I will be eligible for a raise in January and will get metro benefits and 50% of any gear I buy. Most importantly, I will be able to use the estimated 850 dollars a month working 20 hours per week to drop a whopping $3,000 a month on my student loan debt. Amazingly, this combined with my go fund me, could be JUST enough to end my journey on time. And for those of you who don’t know, or can’t recall, that means I will have paid off $33,000 dollars in 12 months.
  6. My go fund me page has received $794 in donations! My goal is to raise 5,000, $1,000 of which will go to whoever donates the most if I raise the full amount. I’ve also pledged $200 to whoever gives the most, regardless of whether or not I reach my goal. So far the number to beat is $219 dollars and like a Lannister, I always repay my debts.
  7. I am 2 months into to intermittent fasting and estimate I have lost almost 8 pounds of fat since the end of July. I began by cutting out breakfast and slowing removing dairy, starches, most grains and carbohydrates, with the exception of bread and the occasional rice dish. Just 3 weeks ago, I decreased my eating window from 1pm-9pm, to eating just one large meal a day around 4 pm. As a result, I have become fat adapted, meaning my body has learned to use stored fat for energy instead of carbohydrates or sugar. I don’t get hangry and I no longer suffer from incontinence. My toenails have also begun to grow in clear and my skin is clearer than it’s ever been. I have also discovered that dairy and alcohol give me free floating anxiety in even tiny amounts and intensifies both the premenstrual dysphoric disorder and the incontinence.  Most significantly I know exactly when to eat, when to drink and what foods my body needs. It’s actually ridiculous how more in tune I am with my needs. I also feel sharper and more focused right before I breakfast joining the ranks of Michelangelo, Einstein, Isaac Newton and other greats who ate minimally or once a day. Did I also mention I have significantly chopped my food budget by about 15% and no longer rely on “healthier” fast food options? Who knew living off less and eating less could feel SO good?
  8. I am officially 3 months off my Zoloft and still experiencing sub-clinical levels of OCD!! That’s right, after a scary year where I almost lost everything, I am happy to say I am (mostly) walking  like everyone else. I barely think about it now, but it’s a HUGE victory that I plan on writing about more! Exposure Response Prevention therapy, along with my parents, saved my life!
  9. I’ve re-framed my minimalism lifestyle to include a physical, financial, spiritual and emotional transformation. The eating, self-care maintenance, reduction in things and commitment to reducing my emotional energy output have been just as life changing as my car living experience. I now know that I require far less than I could have ever imagined, and the more I give up, the freer I feel. I’ve also realized that many of the activities I put my energy towards- relationships that don’t uplift me or are unstable, emotions that drain and drag, foods that poison and paralyze, words that fall on deaf ears, aren’t just first world problems I’m privileged to experience, but symptoms of an oppressive society and culture I cannot support.

So yeah, this is me right now- sweaty and slightly overheated, typing from a random 7-11 parking lot in the middle of nowhere, with a bottle of water, 20 more minutes of battery on my laptop, a big grin on my face, and thoughts of all the many things I hope to accomplish in the last 3 months of my car living journey.

These are Trying Times

I apologize in advance if this post seems jumbled, choppy or uninspiring. I am coming back to this after almost two weeks. I guess I just felt like if I didn’t force myself to publish something, I would keep avoiding my blog and not write any updates, which defeats the whole purpose of blogging. As such, I have opted to post this, rather than wordsmith and finagle this into the post of a lifetime.

My blood is thick and it’s hot outside. I feel tense and anxious and strong all at the same time.  I’ve been so entrenched in work and troubleshooting car repairs, that it’s been difficult to find the time or mental space to sit down and write. Despite the foggy mental space I’ve been in- I feel amazing physically. My consistent workouts, intermittent fasting and energy work have strengthened my sense of vitality and endurance. On top of that, I’ve somehow adapted to the heat and no longer loathe the 80 degree nights. But everything else is in disarray.

My car- my precious companion, whose taken me from the majestic mountains of Colorado, to the humid greens capes of Arkansas and the sweaty concrete jungles of Dallas, Texas to the gentrified nothingness of Washington D.C., is taking a beating. A month ago I took it for an oil change and to get a mystery noise checked out. They said my car just needed some new fluids and sent me on my way. Of course 2 weeks later the noise was back with a vengeance and they couldn’t get me in for 3 days. So I opted to take it to another dealer who said they could have someone look at it that day. 2 weeks, nearly 4 separate car visits and a total of $2,300 later and my car is still not running well.  They replaced the entire rack and pinion and I opted to get all the other stuff I was saving up for done as well- 90,000 mile checkup and new tires. It was a lot of money but I figured I could pay half in cash and pay myself back the rest in another week and I wouldn’t have to think about my car for another year or so. It seemed well worth it- until I realized after getting my car back from the dealer that the airbag light was on and the horn didn’t work. Plus there was a loud popping noise coming from the front of my car. How could any reputable mechanic ever return a car back with these things wrong? Especially after so much money was put into the repairs.

So I took my car back and they replaced the steering coil- something I believe they broke when they didn’t lock my steering wheel into place and changed the rack mount. Plastered on various online forums are a bunch of other people who had the same job done and the same issue RIGHT after the rack was replaced. They took it back and agreed to fix the “unrelated error” for free, even assuring me the noise was the sticker left on my new tires. When asked if they test drove my car, my service manager gave me a shaky yes.  That was Wednesday when I got my car back for the 4th time and of course there this still a popping noise in the front right tire and the steering wheel is hard to move. I have called the manager 3 times over the last week and received no phone calls back. I have the names of another mechanic who can look at it and scheduled an appointment with another dealer, but all of this takes time I don’t have. Work has become exceptionally busy, requiring late hours for community meetings following the release of a major plan. I’ve also taxed myself with finding a second job to pay off this debt faster, so I spend all my free time at the library cruising Craigslist. Did I also mention I will be in a documentary in two weeks to share how debt cripples Americans? All this and mind you, I am still living in my car, and my car is not working.

The most frustrating thing about this car experience, is how it echoes my own mental health journey and frustration with society. To my mechanic, I’ve become the delusional know it all that googles everything and insists I know exactly what happened and what is needed to fix the car. To my doctors, I’ve become the same girl, who complained that it was the SSRI withdrawal process that caused an acute bout of obsessive compulsive disorder, chronic body pain and unbearable depression.  Just like I showered the Doctor’s with scholarly journals and threads from online forums only to be ignored, the car dealership was equally as dismissive.  It sucks when people don’t take you seriously. And it sucks even more when you have paid those people to do their job.

But on a more serious note- not having my car has made me realize how important homes are in maintaining emotional well-being. I have spent the entire two weeks in fight or flight and the OCD started to get annoying. As of late, I’ve been thinking about the recent tragedies that struck Ellicott City and Louisiana, and even the wildfires in California. I’m not by any means asserting that my car troubles and voluntary homelessness lifestyle compares anything to the loss of life or economic impact of those events. Just noting how life is constantly taking us by surprise- stretching our capacity to feel and our ability to adapt in times of stress and desperation.  I realize just how fucked up things are and how little control we have. As I tell many friends of mine regularly- the struggle is real. Sometimes all you can do is go “oh shit”, this is happening.

Wherever you are and whatever you’re doling, I invite you to take a nice deep breath into any difficulties you are experiencing. Release them, along with any tension in your jaw, shoulders, arms, back and legs. Know that although these are trying times, you reading this proves we are not in the struggle alone.