It begins

DThis morning, I woke up feeling fairly confident I’d be able to pay rent tomorrow. I sent out an invoice last week for a new writing client, and they’d said they would pay it by the end of this week. Instead, I got a voice note this morning saying they weren’t quite ready to work with me yet. They’d jumped the gun and didn’t want to move forward right now. The money I was counting on for rent… poof.

This is objectively the worst financial situation I’ve ever been in. I thought I’d hit my money bottom last winter when I fell into a spell of deep depression and had to pay rent with a credit card for a few months. But this time around, I’m all out of credit. Now I’m down to the last $341 in my checking account, with no real idea of how I’m going to get my rent paid. It’s objectively bad.

But the strange thing about this day is that I’m not particularly stressed or anxious. I’m not doom spiraling or beating myself up. When I got that voice note this morning, there was a brief flash of terror and shame, but it was quickly followed by something akin to acceptance.

In the following hours, I made a few phone calls to my recovery brothers, took a walk, connected with my friend and business partner in Flowstate, and started taking small steps towards solving this problem. I listed my turntable and hifi stereo setup on FB marketplace, something I’d been procrastinating on for weeks. Then I started the process of finding myself a roommate. Somehow I ended up in a 2-bedroom apartment but only occupying one of the rooms. Seems a bit silly, so I’m gonna rectify that. I pitched some alternative services that are more in alignment with Dialogic Studio’s long term direction to that same client who pulled back. Haven’t heard anything from him, but I’m feeling proud of myself for shooting my shot in the direction I want to move.

This is all wild to me because this money pressure has been looming for weeks, and I’ve spent the majority of that time feeling paralyzed and anxious and struggling to take even basic steps. But today the right actions and attitude came naturally and easily. It’s like getting the worst possible financial news cleared out the emotional gunk that was clogging up my engine. It’s the damndest thing, and strikes me as genuine miracle.

Along with the emotional gunk getting cleaned out is this sense of urgency to start writing and publishing again, like I did in January. I have a hunch that writing is going to take me somewhere new, especially given that I do plan to publish this on my website. I’m actually excited to write these live-wire bits of memoir and reflection from within the turbulence of this moment. Partly because it helps me process and document things, but also because I think it’s real and human and energetically compelling writing.

When I went back and re-read the stuff I’d published from January to March, I was shocked at how lively and raw and real it all felt. I wasn’t performing for a perceived audience, but simply telling it like it was each day, even when how it was was objectively depressing. I still showed up and told the truth as best as I knew how. And gradually, I started feeling lighter and better and like my life was flowing forward. The more I wrote, the more I felt unstuck. And so shall it be again. I have faith. I trust in the powers that led me here, to this sink or swim moment. I trust that God has my best interests at heart, and that even when I act irresponsibly with money and food and media, that I can still return home.

I don’t think it’s any coincidence that I found myself drawn back to the parable of the prodigal son yesterday. Out of nowhere, I felt compelled to dive into Henri Nouwen’s book about this tale, and it felt like the most profound, instructive story me. Provided I choose to walk towards my home with humility in my heart, there is nothing that can stand between me and the infinite source of love and compassion that I have longed for my whole life. I’ve looked for it in my mom, in creative and entrepreneurial work, in romantic relationships, in psychedelics. But it was never out there, in the material world. It required reaching the end of the road of my self will, and seeing what a mess of things I’ve made, and wanting, more than anything, to return home into the loving embrace of a father who’s filled with joy that his son has returned from the brink of death.

I’m not sure why I’m mentioning the prodigal son here, but it feels deeply intertwined with this moment, and the grace I received today as my emotional fog lifted and I felt a new wind at my back. I can’t help but feel that someone or something much larger, more wise, more loving than myself knew that giving me a good shake by the shoulders would wake me up, remind me that I needn’t control and strategize my way into financial success and a feeling of self-worth. That’s not how it works.

I might be in the lowliest, most precarious financial situation I’ve ever been in, but I’m no longer viewing it as a reflection of my worth as a human being. I’m just Rob. Child of God. Guy who’s going to keep showing up, doing the next right thing, and keeping his mind and heart open to whatever this life has in store for him. Regardless on what happens in the coming weeks and months, though, I’m going to write about it, and I’m going to write into it, because I have a strong suspicion that the answers and opportunities I seek are somewhere within my words, or the words that flow through me from the great beyond.

The conversation begins.