WARNING: This post mentions LA parking and itchy vaginas.
The past few weeks have been a whirl wind. I’m finally living the cliche I always wanted: moving to LA to pursue my dreams.
Now, this is only possible because I am lucky enough to have help from my parents. They agreed to pay my rent for one year after I delivered a strong (dare I say, POETIC??) powerpoint presentation on why I should move to the city of ample movies and douchebags. In short, you kind of need to if you want to write for TV.
For the first time in awhile, I’ve felt really happy. I have friends in LA, a retail job I enjoy and I finally feel like I’m moving towards my goal. And tonight, after a long day of work, I lied down, put in my mouth guard and…. heard an odd noise. It was unfamiliar, almost like a zamboni, but more brushy, almost-
NO. GOD. NO. STREET CLEANING. NO. GOD. NO.
Due to a lack of AC and an itchy vagina, I am bare ass naked. (PRO TIP: If you have an ichy vagina, air your lady bits at night.) I stumble around my room looking for pj’s and keys. But when I got outside, it was too late. About two hours too late. I was supposed to vacate the street for street cleaning between 11 and 1am and it’s almost 1. The ticket is $64.
From then on things kinda went south ruuuuuul quick.
I come back inside. I imagine the nasty notes I’ll write on the check. I hit myself on the head. Hard. Again. Again. I imagine being able to brutally kill the street zamboni man, the meter maid, myself, myself in front of him and his family. Him living with the guilt of causing my suicide. His family never being the same. I returned to image of my dead form. Again. And again.
So I sat. I cried. I missed my boyfriend. I missed my family. I hated the new city where they clean different parts of the block at different times, where $1000 bucks a month does not guarantee a parking space. I hated that my fixed income meant this $64 would hurt. Again, I missed my boyfriend who was eight hours ahead and thousands of miles away. I opened up whatsapp to let him know I loved him.
After I hit “send” I giving my boyfriend an extra “I love you” was, at least, on good thing to come out of this. I kind kinds turned this parking fiasco into a positive. So I tried to see other positives. Maybe this was sort of right of passage for LA residents? Maybe I could use this adrenaline rush to get some extra writing done? Maybe there were some positive butterfly effect type outcomes? But then, I realized somehing.
My emotions, the hitting myself, the hating. It had passed. It hadn’t lingered with me the way it used to, sticking on my back for days, sweaty and too close. There are approximately one metric fuck ton of reasons why my negative emotions passed like they did (therapy, art, friends, family, circumstance, powerpoint and luck to name a few. But right now, I’m here to tell you that this is one of that many reasons I’m glad to live.
Sometimes I will be having this perfectly happy day, and then something happens and I imagine myself hanging from a rope and it feels so good and right that I’m not even aware of how much those feelings should scare me. But then I recognize these feelings. I know it’s okay to feel them, but they offer no real truth. Then, after awhile or a bit, I will let them go.
Some see it as a battle. That helps them. Some are able to lessen their emotions forever. But that’s not me. Though my dark emotions are less before they’re still there, especially when I make mistakes. Even if it’s just a parking ticket.
I see my dark emotions as an old, complicated companion. She comes into town: hurt, sick and cruel. I cannot change her, but I can be kind. I wait for her to quiet. I have ways to help her quiet. It may take awhile, but she will. Then, she will leave. She might come back, but she reminds me of who I was and am, and it’s hard to hate her too long for that.
I’m so glad I’ve lived because I am slowly, but steadily getting this. Because I can sob and wish to die and then be okay. I’m not cursed. I’m strong. And alive. And, at the risk of sounding repetitious, I’m very happy I’m alive for the person I am becoming today.