My Power Grows

I can’t keep up.

I am presently living rent-free in a house that I will have to leave next month. I am waiting for new wheels for my van that are on backorder, and currently have to air up a brand-new tire with my bike pump every morning if I want to drive. I did this all last week because I rely on my bike and body to solve problems pretty often, and after three weeks of that, it said stop. So, ten minutes of pushing air into that tire it was.

Yesterday, I had my 90-day review at work. It shook me that it was already here for two reasons; one, I love this place and time roared by.

And two, it marked three months since I had to get out of another abusive environment where I at least had a little bit of logistical stability, and traded it for freedom that meant everything else was going to be very, very hard again.

I expected some critique from this review. I got it.

I also got an effective-immediately cut to part-time hours only. Despite consistent praise from my coworkers and the woman I was a direct assistant to, for not only catching on fast but also riding 80-mile days to work to keep showing up reliably (Strava for proof), I wasn’t measuring up.

It had nothing at all to do with the consistent conversations in the hall that major account holders had paused orders and that we had become “unusually slow.” I’d never consider that this place would blind-side me with some performance deficit on my part to conceal a cost-cutting maneuver. Maybe one of the many other places I had worked that operated under a deceptive status-quo would handle it that way, but certainly not this place that I was looking forward to staying loyal to, finally.

I cried in the conference room, while I drove home, late into last night, as I slithered out of bed, and pumped up that tire to get coffee this morning.

I’m back to writing this afternoon. I am coming back here more often as the pressure builds, and pausing bigger pieces to “we interrupt this program,” again. The three pillars of support, housing security, gas-guzzling vintage metal toaster vehicle, and now my already meager income, are all broken. I’m leaning heavily on the scaffolding now.

I have a brand-new Patreon to work in tandem with this blog, so subscribers who want to support my stability while I swing this sword at multiple problems at once can support me monetarily. Don’t worry- my blog posts will ALWAYS be free to read, regardless of whether or not you choose to subscribe. I can’t in good faith put writing that people have told me helps them behind a pay wall, but supporters can help me stay upright enough to keep spending time on it. My Venmo is also linked in the Support tab above this post, if you’d prefer a one-time donation. If you want to help, I am finally letting you. As Aaro puts it, “I shouldn’t take that option away from people.”

_____

I want to get back to riding for ambition. Summer just started, and it’s already slipping through my fingers. I have to ride for utility even more now that I’ll still have to be at work five days a week (while I look for other, closer opportunities; I won’t be defeated) for significantly less money (I am dramatically more fuel-efficient).

I am not a “look at the bright side” person. I am a “look at the reality of this situation, even if it’s through tears” person. The reality right now is… the shit sandwich has just been served with a side of fries. My history of “if I am not enough, I am not safe,” means blows like this amplify this terrible hiss in the back of my mind that says I am not allowed to succeed. I was at my limit weeks ago; it just got deeper. I have the resourcefulness to solve it all, but time is not on my side and money is even less so. It’s a downward spiral on a staircase of crumbling sandstone steps.

Meanwhile, the sound of clanging metal ascends.