You might notice that this is a different website to the one I’ve historically blogged on. Well, about that…
Up to yesterday afternoon, I thought I couldn’t sink any lower. That things were as bad as they could get and I just had to hang on in there until I could get something going, get things off the ground, bring in some money… Then my web hosts contacted me to let me know that, due to non-payment of hosting fees, they would have to take down both of my websites. I wasn’t surprised and to be honest, I should have made that decision myself a while back, like several months back. I didn’t. They made it for me. It is what it is. I still have the archives, which is good. They’re good people and the embarrassment of not being able to pay them for so damn long is quite acute, although I’m trying not to dwell on it because that doesn’t help anyone.
Then I found out that a very lovely and good friend of mine is going to be setting up her own company in the New Year. She just turned thirty, she’s VERY good at what she does and I know she’s going to be a great success.
I’m pleased for her, while wondering what the hell happened to me. I’m thirty-six and I can’t even pay site hosting fees, let alone get any of my varied enterprises off the ground. I’m surrounded by people achieving great things and here I am, achieving nothing. I’ve started things, to be sure, and made a lot of progress towards things, but what have I actually got out there? What is currently earning me money and building towards some kind of life and name for myself?
It’s no great mystery, though. What happened to me, I mean. The truth is, I’m just not very good. At anything.
I’m almost unemployable. Which is to say I can get jobs but holding on to them is nearly impossible. The longest I’ve ever stayed in one job was one year and two weeks and that was the job which made me go on antidepressants. I’ve never had a job which made me feel like anything other than a very small cog in a very big machine. I’ve never had a job where there was any possibility of promotion. The most rewarding job I ever had was riding horses to Machu Picchu. Kickass job to be sure, but the time in the office was awful and since I was the only person in my department there was nowhere else to go.
A lot of my friends tell me that I’m awesome and really good at this, that or the other, but the problem is that their belief in me doesn’t affect mine. No matter how much someone tells you you can do anything you want, if you can’t see it, it isn’t going to happen. And in the face of mounting evidence to the contrary, it becomes harder and harder to maintain any level of belief in your own abilities or self-worth.
I’ve tried to be positive. I have tried so hard. I have to stay positive for my mother, who is currently facing the distinct possibility that her home of nearly twenty years will have to be sold in order to pay a marriage settlement which is less than one twelfth the value of the house in question. I have to stay positive for the dog, who is a rather sensitive animal with teeth an inch long. If he gets upset, things can go downhill pretty fast so you may scoff but any impact on him has to be considered.
I have tried. And today, I am failing. Because I’m tired. And I’m scared.
I know all that guff about “the only people who fail are the ones who quit” and to be frank, it doesn’t help at this point. You know why? Because I can’t fucking quit. What would I do? Stop breathing? I literally can go no lower (which I probably shouldn’t say because I totally thought it yesterday and then discovered that actually…)
All I can do is keep writing. Having won NaNo this year means I can get a 50% off coupon for Scrivener (whenever I can scrape together £18) and indulge my desire to write screenplays, which I have zero right to do as they’re even less likely to go anywhere than any books I write. At least I can self-publish a book.
Which is what I will do. Self-publish. And write. And publish. What else is there?
Oh yes. Long walks on the beach with my best boy, the floofiest fluffnugget in town. Would be romantic if he wasn’t a dog.
This probably sounds immensely self-pitying and maybe it is, but to be honest, I’m fed up with trying to put a brave face on things. I want to be honest with myself and if I can’t do that here, on my own blog, then where can I? So here I am, letting it all hang out. My hope is that things will improve and as they do I’ll track that here, so that I can see my progress. So that I can see my life, hopefully, on the upswing.
So I’ll be talking about anything and everything: writing, dogwalking, books read, films seen, baking, cooking, and whatever the hell else takes my fancy. I probably should have stayed here, instead of going and starting my own website (and then another one) before I really had anything to put there. I’m right back where I started, albeit with, it has to be said, five and a half years’ more experience of life and… stuff.
Maybe it’s not the worst place to be. And I hope you’re having a better day than I am.