Mayday! Mayday!

Bzzz. Bzzz. My Insta friend Cocoa texts me to ask for help with her seizure and cancer meds campaign. It’s 7:00 am on a Tuesday but I’m already awake; Zach has been barking intermittently since 4:55 am. The Ring side camera was on a rampage, chiming loudly and constantly even though the video showed no movements were recorded. I bet you $50 that the spider that took residence near the solar panel is causing the commotion.

Life has a weird way of working out.

Shortly after sorting the Fundrazr campaign out and posting a few extra mentions on Zach’s pages, I manage to get into the shower. W is already up and running, tending to the doggo who seems to be happy now that his favorite humans have emerged from their second floor hiding place. Halfway through the morning rituals I get a Snapchat notification from W’s intern, who is back in Illinois prepping for the new school term. He’s hoping to score a study abroad position even though he left the application process for the last minute. Back when I was his age the thought didn’t cross my mind. Youth is definitely lost on the young.

In the days of yore we needed to go to an office and talk to a human to get stuff done. Now, I hit a few buttons and keys and my internet connection takes care of the mundane tasks that used to be the bane of our existence.

By the time I have arrived at work at nine in the morning it feels like I have solved every problem in the world except world hunger. Responding to infinite loops of texts, emails and calls exhausts me a little bit less than dealing with extroverts which is why I am drawn to the notifications, to the inherent satisfaction obtained from helping others succeed. So much hurt in the world; so much loss and need. The say money is the root of all evil but it comes in handy when you want to become a victor and not a victim of the circumstances.

Around midday, my phone rings. It’s our lawyer. My mom’s estate stuff requires my attention as well as a few outstanding bills. We are bleeding thousands from the inheritance monthly with no end in sight. It takes money to make money, or in this case to release assets. I’m drowning in a sea of past due bills, financial need, and crowdfunding. My reality spins while I stand glued to the ground by the sheer force of gravity. The pressure is going to turn me into a diamond or crude oil.

Managing relationships with loved ones across five different timezones is not apt for the faint of heart.

The evening doesn’t fare any better. W argues with himself about what to prepare for dinner and takes about two ours to deliver on a 25 minute Blue Apron meal. You can hear him talk to the ingredients in a mad frenzied state as if somehow the zucchini was responsible for all his woes, and on top of that his hunger. I’ve hunkered down in the couch after feeding Zach, plotting how to get the house organized and refreshed without spending more than required to make this space feels like home rather than a battlefield. The war is not yet over but at least the MBA grades are in and WE PASSED! 🥳🥳🥳

One down, many more items to go.

I check the Fundrazr, Instagram and Facebook pages in an effort to draw up plans of attack for the next day. Even though I am applying all my knowledge and common sense to these endeavors, my best feels like it is not good enough. Trust me, I know my inputs and strategies are helping people, and pets, across the continent and beyond to live their best life but the gestures feel hollow, like I am not equipped to breakthrough and fulfill my potential. I don’t know to genuinely keep the faith, so I fake it until the miracles happen, if any. I don’t feel like my back is being gotten or protected by anyone in particular. In fact, I feel more like a moving target. Like Taylor Swift says, I need to calm down.

To others, it may seem like I have everything in order. That I got my 💩together. I’m not really. My train is moving forward at a slow pace to avoid a major collision but it is making sizable progress. Whatever the universe wants from me it will take or deny me. Whatever it wanta to give or bestow upon me will be accepted with gratitude and courage. I watch the rest of my day go by from behind the smartphone screen, signing off around midnight with the hope that the next day will be slower, more serene, less full of anxiety and apprehension.

It never is.

Resistance is futile.

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