Wheel of Misfortune: I’d Like to Solve the Puzzle

I have been feeling off for a while. I spent the last month feeling like a complete loser, hiding from my own life. Out of spirits. Really down in the Downie-Dumps and not sure of the reason why, or how to get out of it. Turned out, by the time I figured out I was riding on the Wheel of Misfortune, not only had I spent over a month on this emotional roller coaster, but the source of the problem was closer than I thought.

Lose a Turn

I feel like for the last almost two months, I’ve missed a turn. I thought it was the doldrums of turning half a century old. This low mood has been lurking around for over a month. That’s why I thought it was because of my birthday. I don’t have a good history with birthdays anyway, so it could have been. But 50 was not remarkable. Not good, not bad. I was pleasantly surprised. Yet still feeling disappointed. What was going on?

Especially when several weeks passed and I was just as in my rut as I was at the end of March. It was keeping me from doing anything. I didn’t feel like writing. Major bummer. I didn’t feel like playing any of the games I have on Steam, games that I bought with a promise to myself that I’d play them when I had time, that’s literally all I have now. So what’s the deal?

I hit rock bottom when new books weren’t scratching the itch. What in the hell?! The world is ending when I can’t chip away at my TBR list; this is supposed to be my time to shine! And here I am struggling to read through books from my favorite authors. The struggle is real. Real bad.

I didn’t know what to do. I was spinning out of control. Circling the drain of a depressive funk that was stinking up the vibe of my Guatemala experience. Nothing mattered. What was going on with me? Was it hormones? Was I dying? What is going on?

Free Spin

For the last several months, I have been meeting up once a week on Teams with my male best friend, whom I’ll name: Max. He’s been eager to teach me the tricks of the trade of his business, something he’s been bending my ear about for over four years. I’ve always just been too busy with work to consider focusing any time on a side hustle. And when I did have free time, I was going to fill it with my hobbies and personal interests. Not more work.

It wasn’t until I moved to Guatemala that I realized I wanted to learn from him, and I was finally ready to do so. Max is winning at his job, and I am genuinely happy and proud of the work he is putting in.
The sessions have been very productive, but I didn’t realize that there was an underlying issue that was causing me undue pain.

Max and I have known each other for 37 years. That’s a hella long time. Before we were friends, though, we were middle school arch-rivals. I distinctly remember tripping Max down the hall one afternoon on his way to the water fountain. I still think it was hilarious. We didn’t become friends until freshman year of high school. Solidarity was born from being one of the few brown students on financial aid at a very exclusive and expensive private school.

Life has taken us down VERY different paths. Where I diverged into parenthood, marriage, the military, and post-divorce single-motherhood; he’s never married, has no kids, his one serious relationship ended in heartbreak, and he now lives with and cares for his aging mother. That being said, it is clear that I am not in the same kind of financial situation as him.

However, Max is more of a lead a horse to water kind of guy. That’s part of why he’s taken me under his wing with the weekly training sessions. He has a small clue about how I’d like to be more financially fluid. But it’s only just recently, since we have been meeting up once a week for an all-day session of chitchat and learning, that I’m bearing witness to his lifestyle with increasing regularity.

Bankrupt

Max is an only child, living with his mother, and they’re not hurting for money. That never bothered me before.

Every time we talk, he’s regaling me with all the places he eats out at every day. He doesn’t cook. His mother, since she got sick with COVID, even after she got better, has not been cooking like she used to. So they eat out almost every day. Or buy easy-to-prepare meals. Life is easy and breezy, just a car ride away from Costco, Whole Foods, Sprouts, and Trader Joe’s.

This activity is nothing new. He’s always done this. It’s just currently having the unintended effect of making me miss my old life. Even when I was making more money at my corporate job, I still cooked a lot of my meals. Eating out just felt too extravagant. More of a luxury than a right. Now that I am unemployed, eating out is definitely a luxury. I grew increasingly aware that as time passed through the month of April, I began to cringe when my phone would ping with a notification from Max.

What would he be sending me a picture of today? How much money would he have spent on takeout this time? I don’t even think he realizes how disproportionately out of touch his financial expenditures are compared to the life I am currently living. His lunch money on one day could be groceries for the week for me here. It’s a real juxtaposition.

And apparently that’s been slowly digging away at me. Eroding my happiness and my calm at being here. I have been stressed about finances. I am lucky that I can survive on much less while living in Guatemala, and that I don’t need much. I already have all the things I really need (my phone, internet, my computer, books, etc), so everything else is gravy, even if I’ve had to be frugal. But I am not talking about this with anyone else. Certainly not with Max.

I am lucky that I don’t need much. But living as a starving artist is taking its toll. Especially when presented with the evidence in Technicolor video and photos of the life I used to live. Easy access to foods I like. Shopping, travel, and even the rest of my things that remained in storage. It’s all been bumming me out. Bringing me down.

Some days, I would wake up and wonder if I had made a mistake. Should I have stayed in the States and found another job? Should I have shackled myself to another role in traditional employment instead of pursuing my dream?

This has been quietly bankrupting me.

Solve the Puzzle

However, Max is completely unaware that every time he peppers me with updates of how much money he is making, the clients he has gained, it’s not envy that I feel.
Turns out it is despair.

He’s not doing it maliciously, though, and all the conveniences he is enjoying in his life in the States can come off as out of touch in light of everything happening in general. I don’t think he even realizes how color blind his behavior is. I have spoken openly about the conditions in Guatemala, about how different life is here.

Max being unaware of the dichotomy of our situations is not a newsflash. He’s tone-deaf as all get out. However, he is a good friend. And I know if I told him it bothered me, he would change. And I don’t want that. It makes me feel oily inside, like I’d owe him something.

I don’t feel that it is necessary that he change just because I am uncomfortable. Because I hope I won’t always be in this position. I’d rather just manage my expectations by muting his notifications. Taking breaks from his braggadocio when it’s getting out of hand for my mental health. He doesn’t care if I don’t reply to every text. That’s not out of character for me.

I don’t talk money with him. I have mentioned to him that I am looking for ways to increase my financial stability while I am here. I stand firmly that the kind of friendship we have is not the kind where I would ever sully it with money that wasn’t earned. And I have the means, I just need to get out of my own way.
I am self-aware enough to know that there are things I could have been doing for myself that wouldn’t guarantee that my finances would change, but they would improve my odds, and I haven’t been doing them. Choosing instead to sleep, avoiding life in general because it was better than dealing with my hard feelings. This was easier when I didn’t know the despair that was at the root of my bad feelings.

Being so diametrically opposed was wearing me down. But now that I see it, I can’t unsee it. Knowing what’s causing the storm clouds gathering around me does help. It doesn’t remove the low-key depression, and it doesn’t fix my money situation. But I’d rather know what is causing my problem than inadvertently send myself spiraling again by unwittingly being triggered.

Now that I know, it doesn’t kill the despair that will come once I stop being a sad sack about it. And that has put some life back into my creativity, and I’m writing again. I’m giving myself the grace to be bummed, as long as I do something about it. At least I can laugh at myself now.