I have not written for a long time, partly because I feel some shame about how I am living my life. Specifically, that I am not supporting myself financially, but rather living off of money that I was given by my dear great aunt. In this culture, at my age, I should have a job. And more to the point, everyone else my age has a job. Well, many of my friends don’t have jobs, but they do sometimes, and they aren’t relying on money from their families to not have jobs. Shame. Lots of shame. The word trustafarian, and the derision that it is said with, runs through my head. I don’t have a trust fund. I will run out of this money. But for now, it lets me be (p)retired, let’s me follow my interests with my whole attention- gardening, mostly. I’ve said that I intend to use money only in ways that move me towards being able to not need to use money in the future. That goal has been complicated by having a partner who has a child, and wanting to help support the raising of that child. So I spend money on rent for an apartment in a part of the city that isn’t full of lead and gunshots. Paying rent is definitely not moving me towards not needing to spend money in the future.
I got really depressed two autumns ago, partly because I was journaling a lot privately and would obsess about this contradiction between my ideals and my reality. Then I made a decision to accept my reality as it is this moment and notice how lovely it is. So I stopped writing, and stopped thinking so much about it. I’m really happy. Except if I let my perspective expand and think about everyone who needs to work really crappy jobs to support themselves and their families, or those who don’t have jobs and are struggling to survive. And I imagine the scorn they might feel towards me in my position of privilege.
I don’t think getting a job is the correct answer to banishing my feelings of shame. That would be giving in to capitalist oppression. My thoughts lean more towards giving all the money away and living like Suelo does. Like Jesus taught. Without knowledge of credit and debt, good and evil. Give up my privilege. Scary. Awesome. Inspiring. And really scary.
I haven’t been writing because to write I have to reflect on my life and look at the shame I feel and why, and it leads me directly to contemplating radically changing my lifestyle. Which isn’t comforting at all. I have been insulated and comfortable, and addicted to feeling comfortable. But maybe there’s supposed to be more to life than feeling comfortable.
I’ve felt like I want to start writing again, and I have, obviously, so I will be grappling with this. And maybe just maybe I’ll be taking some radical action. Because feeling ashamed is no fun. There is plenty about how I live that I am proud of to be sure. But I want to be proud of every aspect of how I live. That I may stand tall and write freely.
