I've been listening to the audible, Unfuck Yourself, by Gary John Bishop. I have spent 2019 filling my head with the voices of those who think nothing like me. Grant Cardone, who is surely one of the biggest douche bag billionaires on the face of the earth, opened my mind up to the kind of images of success and perseverance that I had never allowed myself to sit with growing up; Rachel Hollis, so raw and honest and everything I would hope to be as a writer; and Jen Sincero, her ability to paint a picture of what her life once was until she started to believe in herself. And it's so funny to me because this is exactly the shit I made fun of throughout my youth. Now here I am, looking for the secret.
When I thought of money, I saw gaudy Hollywood stars with pools in their backyards and multiple divorces, lifestyles of the rich and egomaniacal. I saw my handicapped brother and the battle for who controlled his estate and all the ugliness that came with my parent's divorce. At the end of it all, I decided to embrace a beatnik kind of mentality. I would spend my life writing and singing for nothing. When I pictured my future, I saw myself in a cheap studio apartment, singing at some shitty jazz club making next to nothing, but it was everything I could ask for. I wasn't even happy in this strange, romanticized version of my older self; just beautiful with a kickass voice. In this dream, my sexually and verbally abusive high school "sweetheart" had tracked me down with a promise to change and be better, and that was always where the dream ended; happily ever after.
So many girls my age were planning their future, applying to colleges and dreaming about the differences they would make in the world while I was romanticizing the fairytales of abuse and seduction. I could sit here analyzing the shallow bar I lived by, sure, my home life was a wreck and I had a deadly eating disorder, but at 38 years old, what or where will that get me?
The fact is, I'm coming to terms with the destructive forces that have routinely dictated my thinking; the forces I've created and battled against for my entire adult life. There's an entire chapter in Bishop's book titled, I'm Wired to Win, and it's not at all what I had expected. He discusses how every aspect of our lives has been a win, even if we consciously felt like we were losing, due simply to the fact that we consistently create the scenarios and results from the foundation our subconscious lays out for us. I have always believed I'm destined to lose and have, without realizing it, made it my life's goal to validate those very beliefs, so in the end, I have won, and it's totally disappointing.
And now I'm faced with a single question; how the fuck do I rewire my brain? I didn't expect so much anxiety to accompany it. There is so much more at stake today. I'm not a bill-free, depressed, self-centered teenager with all the time in the world. The depression is under control but here I am $70,000 in debt later and a beautiful son I want to be so much better for. I'm trying so goddamn hard to reverse those future images of myself of being poor, miserable, talented, and directionless. So, what the fuck does 50-year-old me look like? If I'm wired to win, what do I want to win and how do I get there? These are the questions that keep me up at night lately while I push all the regret and frustration of so many wasted years and tears behind me. All I can start with are images and risks. I stand up for myself on occasion when faced with a toxic person. I see myself writing, debt-free, sitting on the front porch of my own home looking out at a huge front yard surrounded by trees in the early days of summer with a journal in my hand, writing. My bank account is full from passive income and a successful writing career. There So I guess that's where I'm at today.
