Day Thirty-six

Fear may try closing in on every side of me, but I don't have to allow my light to be overcome by the darkness of doubt or insecurity. I've heard FEAR is an acronym for Forgetting Everything's All Right. There are some times when I need more reminders than at others, everything is all right.

Nothing is wrong. Everything I have experienced up until now was preparation for where I am now. Where I am now is the launching point for what lies ahead. I've had horrific experiences before, but I'm still breathing. There may be more difficulties in my future, but I'll survive them too.

I may not have much at the moment, but I'm faithful with what I do have. Therefore, I know I will be faithful over much once much is entrusted to me. I might not be where I want to be yet, but I am on my way, and I am determined to enjoy the journey.

Day Thirty-five

Do it afraid. Last night, I received professional confirmation that all of my recent physical infirmities are a result of nothing more than stress and anxiety.  My stomach has been upset ad nauseam; my blood pressure plummeted to a mere 76 over 60, which is barely not dead, and vertigo sent my head reeling into an inescapable state of dizziness and light-headedness, exacerbating my already debilitating illness.

After four hours in the hospital, undergoing every type of test imaginable, the answer came back that I am perfectly healthy with no physical cause for my physical discomfort. At first, I felt completely hopeless. They were sending me home with no real answers, just an anti-nausea prescription and a list of resources to find psychiatric counseling. I was a bit perturbed.

It was a tad unrealistic of me to expect the doctor to come in and say, “This is what’s wrong with you. Here’s a medication that will make all of your horrible, sick feelings go away;” but, of course, that is what I wanted. What I did not want to do was accept the hard facts of my reality and choose to pursue a new life for myself in spite of the obstacles I perceive to be preventing me from succeeding.

The obstacles: I owe child support, I have to contribute to my own well-being (ie. food, gas, phone bill, student loans, and, most recently, what I foresee to be a huge medical bill), and I’m just a f*cking loser. Why would anyone ever want to listen to me or care about what I have to say?

I’ve had a blog for five years now.  I have 9 followers, and, yes, one of them is my mother. I have a facebook page with a whole 46 likes. How am I ever going to become a published author/poet and actually have enough people purchasing my books to survive, let alone be successful?

Going to work at my minimum-wage job was killing me.  I was having such massive panic and anxiety attacks that I had to leave early on several occasions, which wasn’t good for me or for them; my managers had to continually find someone else to cover my shifts. I knew I needed to leave, to strike out on my own and seek my fortune, pursue my future with all of my being, but I couldn’t do it. Working for less than $10 per hour is not a huge incentive, but when it’s all you have….

I wasn’t willing to let go of the little bit I had coming in because at least it was something. It was more than I would have without it. I couldn’t just up and quit. What the heck was I going to do instead? No one else is going to meet my financial obligations for me. I don’t exactly have thousands of dollars saved up to get me through this transition, or a rich relative to back me. I’m on my own here; and yet, I’m not on my own at all.

Day Thirty-four

He believes in me; I can believe in me too. Ask, believe, and receive. It took a lot for me to get over myself enough to ask for a billion dollars. It's gonna take a lot more for me to believe in myself enough to be able to receive a billion dollars. Not only is there a huge practicality barrier, there's also the obstacle of personal worth and value to break through.

What will be required of me to earn a billion dollars? There is no way I could ever work hard enough, long enough, for me to earn a billion dollars. Let's face it, that's a lot of money when you only make $9.52 per hour. I would have to live forever to earn a billion dollars at that rate. My goal here is not to earn a billion dollars; it's to be willing and able to receive a billion dollars when, or if, it's given to me.

A gift is something someone receives free of charge. Sure, there are people in my life, and you probably know some like this as well, who only give gifts with strings attached. They give you something fully expecting something in return. But the universe doesn't operate that way.

Life is on my side. Goodness is for me. Love wants me to succeed, wants to bless me, and wants to make me a blessing to others. I just have to be willing to crawl out of my dark hiding place long enough for Light to shine through me. Once I do, I will never be the same again. I will be unlimited and unstoppable. A billion dollars will be nothing because I will have more abundance than my physical humanity can contain. I will be bursting at the seams, over-flowing with hope and joy and mercy and compassion.

Day Thirty-three

Write already. Since I was six years old, I've wanted to be a writer. I was a really horrible writer when I was six, morbid too, but thank God, I have improved since then. Seriously, when I was six, I wrote a story about three little girls who all committed suicide together by holding their breath until they died so they could be together for eternity in this little pink, blue, and purple house. I highly don't recommend it.

These days, I still want to be a writer. Between then and now, nothing has changed and everything has changed. I've dodged my natural impulses to write, and I've embraced them. I've packed pens and notebooks around with me at all times, in all places. I've scribbled silly and meaningless words onto pages in a random and haphazard fashion. When I look back, I find my silly sayings may not be quite so meaningless after all. Maybe they hold tremendous meaning and value, not just for myself but for others as well.

I've hidden my desire to write behind having babies and behind needing to work to support those babies as they've grown into beautiful young women. Now, I have a limited amount of time and energy to spend writing. But I do have some. There is time if I'll take it. I just need to discipline myself enough to actually write. Not to sit with my laptop browsing yahoo and facebook, but to write. If I can commit myself to doing the work, I will receive the reward for my work and my efforts.

Day Thirty-two

Oops. I missed a day. I don't know how that happened. I've set posting to this blog every day as my highest priority, even on the days I was so sick I could barely get off the couch. The days are all blurring together on me, and time is getting away from me, lost in a foggy haze of pain and illness.

Yesterday, at least I think it was yesterday, I did go online and research some debtors anonymous 12-step recovery groups. Yes, there is such a thing, and, yes, I definitely do recommend joining one if you have any type of problem with over-spending or under-earning. I didn't even know they existed until a lady I know from another recovery program told me about them earlier this past week.

Hopefully, working through the steps of recovery will help remove the psychological barriers I have regarding money so I can finally break free of my financial suppression and begin living up to my earning potential. There's so much latent ability locked away inside of me. I know I will simply explode with awesome accomplishments once I establish an ability to believe in my own self-worth.

Day Thirty-one

There will come a day when I am no longer physically ill. I will be able to focus whole-heartedly on my work and on my life. Today is not that day. I pray for peace and serenity over the sickness I cannot heal, and I pray for the wisdom I need to pursue those who will be able to help me become well again.

Day Thirty

One month down, and I've exposed some very significant weaknesses in my personal belief system. Everyone in this country has the potential to earn a billion dollars. It begins with a single idea, requires a lot of hard work, and thrusts the individual into a worldview he or she has never before imagined.

So, if anyone can earn a billion dollars, why doesn't everyone do so? Is it just not worth the effort? Does it demand too many sacrifices of time and energy? Does having too much money ruin relationships or cause good people to become greedy monsters? Is there such a thing as having too much money? Maybe most people have psychic blocks like I do. Maybe we're all under-earners because we're simply too scared to shine, too scarred to take the risk, or too stuck in our familiar comfort zones to venture forth into new directions.

There have been many times where I've wanted to be invisible, to sit at the edge of the room until I blended in with the wallpaper. But I was born to stand out. I'm tall and thin with dark hair and big blue eyes; I know I stand out. I'm not a part of the heard. I've never fit in. I'm eccentric, unusual, and extraordinary. Admitting to my own weirdness is certainly a step in the right direction. My sister once told me, "You have to be rich to be eccentric; you're just weird." It won't be long before I'm weird, eccentric, and rich. I won't forsake one for the other.