Down But Not Out

I am admittedly in yet another of my “low points” in life. A job I was counting on getting fell through and now I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to make ends meet. And, once again, a guy I was into told me he doesn’t want to be in a relationship -- just like the guy before him, as well as the current guy I’m fucking. My savings are draining, I’m driftless, my love life is depressing, and yet, I somehow feel…fine? 

I don’t know, maybe therapy is finally working. I mean, I am feeling stressed, don’t get me wrong. But, honestly, I’m taken aback by what I’m not feeling:

1. I’m not feeling shitty about myself. 

2. I’m not judging myself like I usually do. 

3. I’m not letting this affect my sense of self-worth 

All of this positive detachment is shockingly refreshing. I feel oddly certain that my life will work itself out. I’ve never really felt that before. At times like these, I tend to go to a dark place. I get angry, bitter, frustrated, and hopeless. All normal feelings one has at rock bottom. But they’re feelings that aren’t really all that helpful. I’d convinced myself they were. I’d convinced myself I needed to feel all that in order to stay motivated. I was under the impression my motivation was fueled by embarrassment, anger, and a little somethin’ called haterade (a less painful way to say ‘jealousy’). Obviously, I was wrong. I know that now because I continue to be motivated despite not hating myself…and others (for seemingly succeeding in ways I haven’t been able to accomplish yet). 

I’m not the only one changing, the culture is shifting as well. Those in my age range, and younger, care far less about our jobs than previous generations. We don’t want our work to define us. We want to work less and have more time for life. I have accepted that my desire to avoid a daily, on-the-clock, job greatly limits my ability to do the ‘adult’ things I am expected to do, like own a house. However, in a city like Los Angeles, being a homeowner is a pipe dream even for the dutiful full-timers making six figures a year.  I’ve accepted a lot of things about the life I’ve chosen, like being a constant disappointment in my mother’s eyes and never knowing what buying furniture at full price feels like. It’s all a huge gamble. I’m still holding out for the “big thing” that will give me a leg up in an industry that paradoxically requires you to already be successful in order to make you more successful. 

There’s that word, success. What I’ve been thinking is, that I already am quite successful. I just don’t let myself truly believe that; I don’t let myself revel in it. Because I don’t have the money to back it up. I briefly get paid for my artistic work, when I’m lucky, and only a handful of times has it been enough to pay my rent for longer than a month or two. That’s how success is measured though, in paychecks. To be considered successful in the world of entertainment means you can consistently pay your bills with your talent and I still can’t do that. And so I tell myself I am a failure or, when I’m being more optimistic, still a work in progress. 

I tell myself I’m still on my path, even as I see others pass me by who are younger, less experienced, and getting rewarded in ways I believe I deserve to be rewarded. How am I successful then? I mean, look at all the shit I’ve done and continue to do: I’ve grown as a comedian, I’ve grown as a writer, and I consistently put out work that people digest and appreciate. I know this because they tell me. I know this because I see its influence on some of my younger peers and the small-but-mighty assemblage of fans I do have. I’ve made an impact in some way, and that’s success, is it not? 

Unfortunately, impact alone is not actual success when art is tethered to capitalism.  When art is commodified and forced into saleable packages, it’s not enough just to be influential. But you know this already as much as I do. So what am I getting at? I guess I don’t want to care anymore. I’m letting go of the part of me that puts pressure on achieving the capitalistic definition of success: having an abundance of money (though some money would be nice), or getting famous. I’ll figure out a way to pay bills and make it work in accordance with all the other shit I really want to do. But I refuse to give in to the temptation to destroy my self-worth in the process.

I guess I just want to let you know that it’s refreshing to have faith in a better tomorrow. It feels good to believe that things will work out despite having no idea how or when. It feels good to not be petty and full of resentment. I don’t want to be bitter. I want to be happy, so I am going to be, damnit! The better you feel about yourself the easier it is to be happy for others. I see that now. I didn’t feel all that good about myself for many, many years. I see that now, too. 

Who knows, maybe a month from now I will be in a completely different place but, for now, I like it down here, confident in the knowledge that I’ll get back up again when I’m ready. We get there when we get there.