Why I’m Stressed

So, after last week’s post, I thought it might be good to give an update on the progress I’ve made on uncovering the root of my constant stress.

I didn’t end up buying or playing any video games, and I continued to keep up with my goal of writing around 1600 words a day on my new book, which I’m sure I’ll update you on once it’s complete.

The main reason for my stress is that I feel I have hit a plateau on the progress I’ve made as a half-Hispanic woman from a poor family in rural Illinois.

All I see are rich white men all around me, treating people beneath them with all the casual disrespect that we’ve come to know and love from this unique breed of human, and I just don’t know how to move forward anymore.

Like I was told today by my boss, it’s my fault that I chose to go to an expensive college, and maybe I should have stayed in Illinois, because it’s not so bad there.

It's okay, honey. I was just talking to the cornfield.
Even Flickr can’t make corn pretty.

Maybe I should have stayed in a place with fewer opportunities for me, without going into massive debt. Maybe my dreams, as another co-worker pointed out, need a fair bit of hardship to be actually realized. Clearly, I don’t fit the bill enough to even pay the bills.

I was called out in front of the entire company for not having Texas plates, after living here for two years, because I don’t get paid enough to afford it.

I suppose it’s better than my last job where I filed a discrimination lawsuit because I was physically bullied by my supervisor. Here, they just disrespect me verbally. Call it fun.

Maybe I shouldn’t be spending my money on things like food from central market. Maybe I shouldn’t be spending my money on therapy; these frivolous expenses really add up.

I say frivolous because not one, but two certified therapists have told me to consult a priest for my issues. I told them that I didn’t want to go back to an establishment that oppresses women to ask for help. “Oh Priest, I’m broken! Please fix me!” and throw the dice, hoping that he doesn’t blame my lack of belief for his failed attempt to heal me.

What, do I have hysteria? Am I possessed by a demon? Do I have the vapors? Lawd, someone come catch me because my frail constitution can’t bear the heat any more, I think I might faint.

Do these things sound familiar? Because they are the same ole bullshit that people have been telling women who are fed up with the ways things are for far too long. Except in America, 2015, I’m PAYING people to tell me this.

But, I’ve reached a ceiling. I’m starting to think I can’t make more than 40k a year, that I’ll never pay off my debt, and that I’ll never have a room of my own unless I tether to a white man to provide for my basic needs.

It’s not as bad as I thought.

I have a shorter and shorter fuse. But when I do erupt, people don’t know my context. They see me as just another person of privilege, because I live in America, the land of the free, the home of the brave, where nothing is broken, let’s just look the other way.

Photo Credits: America by Thomas Hawk
It’s okay, honey. I was just talking to the cornfield by Robin

If you like what you read, feel free to share. Basic Rules: Be civil. We are all people and deserve respect. That’s a hard and fast rule, by the way, it is not optional. Other than that, anything goes.

Interested in many things, but nothing captivates more than technology, entrepreneurship, futurism, and humanity's quest to problem-solve.