How do you, my lovely readers, ask others for help? Do you dive in direct and ask just that: “Hey, can you help me?” Or do you take a more passive approach? Perhaps you refrain from asking at all?
I’ve been thinking about this for the past week or so and it dawned on me that I never, ever ask for help. Not in the obvious ways at least. You’ll never find me asking outright for assistance of any kind.
But I do ask, in my own way. Like, “hey, I haven’t had a gig/job in a while, and I’m short for this month’s Amazon bill, would it be alright if…?” That’s how I go about it. And I feel downright icky every fucking time. Not because asking for help is a bad thing – it’s not – but because I shouldn’t have to at this point in my life.
If you asked me when I was 8 years old, or hell, any age, where I would be by the time I was 33 years old, it wouldn’t be jobless, directionless and overweight. I can say that for damn sure.
And yet, “it is what it is.” Ugh…that’s the most frustratingly tragic phrase for me, at this point in my life. I want to change that, and some days I wake up and job search and dedicate time to updating my lame resume but then I flame out within a day or so.
Because I want to write books and travel the world and take photos and talk to interesting people from every culture and see things I’ve dreamed about and publish in NatGeo and …and a “real” job will weigh be down, hold me back.
Or will it open doors? Will it offer financial stability, bring lifelong friends and enhance my current state of physical and mental health?
Could it be all of those things? Or none of them?
I quit my “real” job back in April to pursue writing this blog and while I’ve been consistently NOT sick every week like I was back then, I’m also earning $0 in the way of income.
There’s a cold, sucky truth.
So, how do I create a balance for my passions by securing the financial means to follow my heart? Is this even possible?
Should I give up that dreamy, fairytale part of me in favor of fat stacks? (Breaking Bad ftw!) Should I resign myself to a cubicle and a paper-bag lunch and a miserable job working under a shitty boss? That’s all I’m honestly qualified for.
And yes, I know I talk myself out of potentially great things before they even have a chance, but my life is one kick to the ribs after another insofar as personal accomplishment and, well, the proof is in the pudding, as they say.
While hope is perpetual and everlasting, I’m aching to make a difference in my life and my family’s – in a positive, rewarding way.
But… how do I how do I how do I?
It never ends for the dreamers, does it?