I have amazing friends.
In the aftermath of what happened, they embraced me and made today a really positive day, which got much much worse before it got better. I got hit with two financial things . . . and I was saved from the most unexpected source.
I am leaving this awful few days with a new commitment to myself and to fixing some fundamental problems in my life.
RA, who is my beloved best girlfriend, was working from home today and invited me over for espresso and to “cowork.” But first, we went to the market, where everyone goes. (I have bumped into BFD there when he was with a date and PR and I got into our only fight there when I saw him randomly). As it was lunchtime, it was packed with people and she had us stick to the periphery to avoid running into anyone untoward.
Before she showed up, I’d been sitting outside and listening to my iTunes on my phone and the worst most appropriate song came on. I only made her listen to it three times. I was way emo still.
We get back to her place and she makes espresso and then bakes gluten fee scones with blueberries. They were amazing. I asked her, “why are you baking.” She told me: “Because that’s what I do when people are upset…” She’s seriously the best. I walk her through the whole tale over scones.
I get a comment from Kate on the Weekend Planning post that I read to RA. She is aware this site exists, but she doesn’t know what it is. She turns to me and says, the Bon Vivant *is* LP! He really is. He’s the younger, slightly less fucked up version of LP, before he got his shit together completely.
If LP stayed a rock star instead of becoming a rock star lawyer, he might be BV at BV’s age.
Were I smart, I would have fixed things with LP long, long ago. Or something.
W calls me and we discuss the terms of a settlement I need him to negotiate for me. He takes the terms and tells me he’ll see what he can do. He calls me back later and they accepted the offer. This means I have to pay $420 a month for the next six months.
Had they not accepted, the consequences would have been dire –and public. My private poverty shame writ large and I would have needed rescue by BFD again.
My relief at removing the sword of Damocles that’s been hanging over my head for 6 weeks is palpable.
Anyway, we’re having a lovely time with me moping a bit and then with both of us working. I get a text from my mother that there is a problem. It’s a big problem over a small amount of money and a delay of seven days. But the creditor hates me.
Also, I have no idea how I am going to pay the funds ($310) in certified funds tomorrow. I freak out.
But I am sort of convinced I will figure it out so far, as it’s not that much money, though it’s more than I have. BFD will ultimately help me and SD probably would, too, as he’s one of my best friends.
I start adding up my actual month’s expenses and I realize I am completely screwed. To manage my liabilities, I need to make about 1700/month.
I start to quietly fall apart. I then I started to formulate a plan.
As it is what I do…
I figure out I need to make about $11/hour.
I have no idea what I am qualified to do.
I decide to share my most shameful secret with RA: my resume.
That sounds way dramatic, but it’s true.
I tell her that she’s going to be extremely disappointed when she reads my resume. I email it to her from the other side of her dining table and then watch as she opens it.
She reads the beginning, looks at me, and says disapprovingly and slightly exasperated: “Planner… There’s nothing we can do with this! This is not the resume of someone looking for a job. They create jobs for you.”
That’s my shame.
I . . . have been wildly successful. I have held important jobs at a young age.
And now I am writing this into the notes app on my phone as I sit on a bus heading downtown to meet C for coffee.
That’s my shame.
I derailed my own career to take on an interesting project. And it destroyed me, as it fell apart when the economy died.
Since then, I’ve struggled to survive. My failures have affected my family, my friendships, and every romantic relationship I’ve had.
Before I sent RA my resume, I was telling her I wanted to work as a temp.
I have a law degree from a respectable institution. I was an associate at a prestigious firm in a coveted specialty. I was recruited to join a dream team for a dream project, where they trained me for a whole other world. I have taught grad students, launched a successful company in a different exciting industry.
Et fucking cetera.
At the moment, I have multiple deals that could solve all of my problems, and yet I am freaking out over $310.
In other words, I am done.
I am really and truly done.
I cannot live like this anymore.
RA and I started plotting what we could do and we arrived at the same answer: contacting key friends and joining a small, but growing company at an executive position.
It would not be money commensurate with my experience, but it would be a step to the next thing. Whatever that is.
I have an early dinner with RA, and FM joins us for a couple of hours. We have a nice relationship, the three of us, and it’s comfortable for us to unwind together at the end of the day.
After FM and I head home around 7, I still have to figure out how to make the payment. RA, without my asking, checked her account, but didn’t have enough.
A brilliant idea occurs to me: I have two valuable possessions, each worth several thousand dollars. I text C as I know she has borrowed against jewelry in the past to get advice.
As I had told her when she asked me to go with her when she was going to do it again this summer, she loaned me the money. That wasn’t my intention. It was in fact a complete and utter surprise.
Actually, I sobbed.
I walked into FM’s room and sobbed.
He was blown away by her generosity, as was I.
She told me to meet her downtown in the morning at her usual coffee spot and she’d cover me.
What I have taken away from this rough couple of days:
— I have amazing friends who still love and support me, despite everything that has happened.
— I need to make some real changes in my life.
— I have the opportunity to make those changes, once I put myself out there.
— The least important thing that has happened was BV breaking up with me while on a date with another woman.
I have a life filled with love, and it has nothing to do with some dude.
It’s time to make some big changes and retake control. I can do it.
I have done it before. I can do it again.