It’s not rock bottom, rather it’s that thick, nasty quagmire of stinking mud. Still a ways to go before rock bottom, but not far and not pretty.
That’s what I’ve hit.
I hit a few other things as well. Not directly, just by throwing some shit that lay within arm’s reach. Plus the pile on the floor that used to be on my desk. And the broken plastic container that used to house a tiny shredder. And whatever that thing was on the shelf that got taken out by some flying object just heavy enough to do damage and scatter anything it hit.
It started with pressure; pressure to give more and care less. Pressure to just turn the other cheek and say "whatever" whenever someone asked for something, or just fucking took it, without so much as a "thanks for the stuff."
And I sat there, without a backbone to my name, and let it happen. “Whatever,” I’d say and wish I really felt that way, wish I could say “not gonna happen” more often and stick by it. But I try to be nice all the time and saying “no” when people are in need isn’t nice.
Still, the pressure built with all the little nasty picks and pecks at me and my paycheck. I’m always being asked for my time, my money, a little more here, a little more there. People are always asking, and always with the assumption that I would do it and I wouldn’t mind because I rarely say “no.” I’m a nice person; I hate seeing people struggle and suffer.
Apparently I’ve not been looking in the mirror, because I’m having a bit of a struggle myself. Pretty much every cent I earn is taken away, either through bills of my own or food purchases that I share. That’s when it finally dawned on me that if I wasn’t reaching out to help everyone else, I might actually be able to live on my own paycheck and make ends meet. I could even have enough to buy a cup of coffee once in a while without first thinking, “Ok, I can do without something this time” or “I’ll put this on the card and worry about it later.”
Screw that. I’m done.
I’m done waiting for mercy from those who take. I’m done. I’m done. I’m done. I’m drawing a line in the dirt and I’m taking mercy on myself. I can’t expect others to lift me up when I know they have their own issues, so what am I waiting for? This is my money. This is my house. This is my time. And I’ll spend them on ME. I’m supposed to get pre-approved for a loan to buy a house, which I will do (at least I will try to get the approval) so my parents and my partner will have a place to live. I do this willingly and without hesitation (except for all that damn paperwork). I do this out of love and affection for my parents and Tam.
I’m done with charity. I’ve given and given and gotten very little, if anything, in return, and quite frankly, that blows.
I’m standing up, taking my sword and drawing that goddamn line in the goddamn dirt and saying, “This is mine.” Then, I’m going to attempt a step forward where I’ll draw another line and another and another. And I’ll keep drawing lines until my backbone has grown in and I really no longer care if people think I’m a bitch.
Because being nice has gotten me so far in life.