Where the Blood Runs Hot
After I posted about my pandemic baking, and the process of baking a hummingbird cake as I grieved for my mother, I received positive feedback from unexpected sources: people who rarely if ever comment on my writing and people who I hadn’t spoken to in many years. While the praise was a nice ego stroke at a time when I need reassurance and encouragement, something was off. I knew right away what the problem was, and it was the same problem I had with early drafts of my novel: the writing was solid, but the emotional depth wasn’t there.
Rather than edit the Substack post, I compensated by sharing more on social media. I posted my hummingbird cake photos on Instagram and in my caption, I added the specifics I only alluded to on Substack:
Real talk: my life is a mess these days. One of the few ways I can cope is through baking. Yesterday I baked my first ever hummingbird cake with cream cheese frosting and it turned out delicious. These photos are from the process.
If I am posting baked goods or food, chances are very good that I am having a rough time. A friend recently told me that it's through working with a team and/or finding help that I can be successful in my life. I'm not sure how being vulnerable will help in that regard, but Brene Brown says it will, so here goes:
I am over $20K in debt, I am barely making enough money with client work to pay bills & rent, I have a tooth that needs extraction and my only low-income options are oral surgeons who have shitty reviews. My depression and anxiety are at their worst levels in 7 years. I have no idea what to do next with my life that doesn't involve either bankruptcy or a full-time job, or both.
I say all this because I tend to be exceptionally withdrawn when things are really bad, or I don't adequately express just how bad things are. I am pushing myself to say these things out loud more. Not sure how much of a difference it will make, but I have to try.
The cake is good. Life, not so much.
Over on Twitter, I tweeted a thread focusing mainly on my career issues and occasionally referencing “Anti-Hero” by Taylor Swift, a song that spoke to how I’d been feeling for a good part of 2022.
It is so rare that I get any engagement on original tweets, and since the owner of this bird app is committed to its immolation, I might as well rant here in a way I have never ranted before. Inspired in part by my decision to make “Anti-Hero” my theme song for 2022.
I have spent the last 13 years being self-employed. My last full-time job was in PR – the same job that inspired me to set up an account here, and helped me land a few placements for clients. I’m still proud of those successes. But all the trappings of corporate life rarely satisfy me for long. I need more creative stimulation and freedom. Self-employment gave me those things. I took on clients that needed creative solutions, whether it was content writing, social media management, marketing, event logistics, etc. I had a lot of freedom in how, when and where I completed projects. I could focus intently on the task at hand until it was done. Once it was done, I was off the clock.
But as a friend told me many years ago, “when you work for someone else, they deal with all the fear. When you work for yourself, YOU deal with all the fear.” And that fear is debilitating on multiple levels. Physical, mental, emotional. Going in to self-employment, I already struggled with anxiety and chronic depression, and there were many times I felt in crisis, but couldn’t do anything because I didn’t have the financial resources to cover psych care or counseling. Until ACA, I relied on Planned Parenthood and the occasional urgent care visit for my health care. I have been fortunate that I haven’t had any major medical issues in the past 13 years. Dental and mental health issues, though? A whole ‘nother story.
I really don’t want to go back to full time work. But I don’t know how else to address my growing debts and major dental issues that aren’t covered by any decent insurance plan. Would anyone be willing to hire me after 13 years of self-employment? Would I be able to get past an initial interview? Could I fake enthusiasm for corporate-speak? If I found a remote job, would I be sentencing myself to timekeeping apps & tools that monitored my productivity? Hell, how do I even write a resume after all this time?
The irony here is that this year I finally set up my LLC. For years I thought that was the benchmark of entrepreneurial success; that I’m only playing office until I go legit and once that happens my business will be profitable. Instead it’s like the episode of “South Park” where the underpants gnomes, who are supposed to be business wizards, don’t even know what Phase 2 is in their business plan: Phase 1 is collecting underpants, and Phase 3 is profit, but no one can say what Phase 2 is.
It's me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me.
I could rant further about my love life, how every man I have become involved with over the past 20 years has some form of addiction or ends up marrying their next romantic partner. Not that I want to get married again. But connecting with someone who likes me just as I am and yet challenges me to be better, who understands my need for space without getting jealous or insecure? Yeah. I would like that. But I am the grey haired, chubby monster on the hill who is often clueless when someone is flirting with me, and rather than deal with telling someone I’m not interested, ghosting them.
It’s me, hi, I’m the problem.
I felt a bit better after sharing this content on social media, but I was still struggling.
A few days before Thanksgiving, I got a call from my friend Deirdre*. I have known her for only a few years, but our connection was so immediate I describe it as karmic. She’d seen my Instagram post and the first thing she said when I answered my phone was, “Girl, you’ve been on my heart,” and I started crying. We talked for about an hour about what I’d been dealing with and what may be next.
We made a plan to have a girls’ day after Thanksgiving, and we met up at a renovated textile mill with shops, restaurants, and galleries. We wandered around, shopped, cracked jokes, and then went to lunch. That’s when the conversation opened up more. She told me of her heartache over a recent love affair that went cold; I told her about an infatuation I’d had for way too long with someone who had yet to express interest in pursuing anything beyond friendship. We commiserated and cried together, drank wine, ate hummus and chicken tenders and crudités. I told her how much I struggle to be vulnerable. “I also know that whenever I am my most authentic self with other people, the universe opens up in unexpected, surprising ways,” I said. “That’s why I made that Instagram post.” She nodded in understanding.
Then I told Deirdre about something I heard in a creative writing workshop in college. I had a classmate, an older white woman I’ll call Sofia, who loved Josephine Hart’s novel, Damage, and raved about it in such a way that I bought a copy. The writing was tight and meaningful, with a gripping plot and shocking twists: a British politician becomes obsessed with his son’s fiancée and they have an affair that destroys the people they love, as well as each other. Sofia aspired to write fiction similar to Damage, with succinct sentences and clearly drawn characters. When Sofia’s short story came up for reading and critique in class, it included a line that hit me right in the gut: “Go to where the blood runs hot – everything else is lies.”
“I know that’s what I need to do in every aspect of my life: work, writing, relationships, you name it,” I said as I finished the story. “I just wish it wasn’t so fucking hard.”
Deirdre ordered another glass of Chardonnay. “Remember what that reading said, darlin’: you’re not supposed to do all this on your own, and you’re not supposed to give up. You have to follow your heart, because that’s where the blood runs hot.”
I smiled. The month before, I'd had dinner with Deirdre and a mutual friend, and after dinner she’d given me a Tarot/oracle card reading that gave me plenty to think about. One of the messages that came up was collaborating with others in order to achieve success. “This reading is warning you not to do this alone and it’s telling you not to give up, darlin’,” Deirdre said to me, turning over more cards that solidified the message.
What I love about Deirdre is her prescience and her life experience that closely mirrors my own on a religious and spiritual level. She spent 15 years as a 7th Day Adventist – the same religion I grew up in – and went on to find her own path that incorporates so many of the same spiritual practices I adopted. She understands the pain and heartache that comes from leaving a regimented belief system, where connection with the divine is expected to look a certain way, and into the wild unknown, where you open up to divine connection in ways that those you left behind cannot comprehend. And she knows exactly what my soul needs in order to feel loved.
As I drove home after our day together, I thought about that reading, and about what she’d said over lunch. Over the years I’ve collaborated and connected with many teams: coworkers at office jobs, friends that became clients or colleagues on various projects, and niche groups that nurtured my personal and professional growth. I saw how my contributions supported and strengthened the group. However, lines between friends, clients, and colleagues often got blurry, and sometimes led to uncomfortable situations. And whenever there was a paradigm shift, or there was internal resistance to what I viewed as a necessary shift, I broke ties, often feeling angry, hurt, or betrayed by the community I’d once valued. I have struggled for years to understand why this keeps happening to me.
Before I continue, here’s where I lay down my woo: I have been studying Western astrology for over 20 years. I have found astrology to be incredibly insightful and helpful in understanding myself and others, as well as global events. I don’t see astrology as a belief system, but as something I choose to experience. I don’t see my studies or experience of astrology as being in conflict with my spiritual practice, but as a way of enriching and enhancing it. Reflecting on planetary placements helps me find answers to short- and long-term issues – including how I work with others.
Chiron is a planetoid that’s used by many astrologers to signify the nature and location of our deepest wounds. This small planet is named for the immortal centaur in Greek mythology who was renowned for his teaching skills and medical knowledge. Accidentally wounded with a poisoned arrow by his student Heracles, Chiron could not heal his own injury. Rather than live forever in agonizing pain, Chiron switched places with Prometheus, bound to a rock for stealing fire from the Greek gods. His sacrifice pleased Zeus, who allowed Chiron to die and thus end his suffering.
Chiron’s placement in the individual’s astrological chart is where we find our wounds: “who hurt you?” is the question that Chiron attempts to answer for us. Around the age of 50-51, Chiron returns to the same place it was when we were born. The Chiron return is considered one of a few astrological markers of the midlife crisis. Whether or not we choose to experience astrology, the themes are the same: evaluating our life history and memories, assessing where we may have fallen short, and deciding how we want to move forward. Do we want to take what we’ve learned and use that information to reframe not only how we see ourselves, but also how we interact with others, as we move into our second and third acts of life?
In my case, Chiron is in the sign of Aries, in the 11th house of groups, networking, hopes and goals. Aries kicks off the astrological year on the first day of spring in the Northern Hemisphere. It’s a sign that says “I am what I am” and charges forward with vigor. By having my natal Chiron in Aries, in a house focused on collaboration to achieve both personal and collective goals, my wound is rooted in how I show up in group settings, and how my views and approach are accepted or rejected by the groups and networks I choose to be part of. The astrological interpretation lines up with everything I’ve personally experienced, and it helps me figure out what I want and need to do next in order to continue healing.
When I pull it all together – my life experiences, Deirdre’s reading, my Chiron placement – I get clarity. I see that it’s okay for me to trust my gut instinct and allow myself to be vulnerable in any group I’m in. I don’t need to feel ashamed for asserting myself, provided I do it respectfully, and there’s no shame in walking away when I’ve outgrown an environment. And that when I find the courage to say, “this is what’s going on with me and this is what I need,” I find the collaborators who support me on my path to success, as Deirdre told me. That is the place where the blood runs hot: where my vulnerability, my truth, and my courage become part of my inner team that helps me find a supportive, real-world team.