Nothing Changes If Nothing Changes

One of the best reasons to keep a journal (or whatever you want to call it, whoever you want to write to) is to learn from yourself and grow, to feel proud of yourself when you make progress, to understand the inner workings of your brain all the better. This is a letter I wrote to the universe a little over a month ago. I was sad, defeated, crying all the time. Now, life has completely turned around. Some things were because I accepted the way things are, and some were active changes I sought to make based on the circumstances--because you know, nothing changes if nothing changes.

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May 23, 2017

Dear Universe,

When am I going to start loving Mexico City?

I don’t think today is the day. Sometimes I feel hints of joy about living here. I am going to a little concert tomorrow, a band that a friend’s friend is in. A friend who doesn’t live here. That is nice.

I was sure I would be living in my apartment by then, but it seems not. I guess I could leave Omar’s parents’ house, go there. Actually, maybe I will go there. I could sleep on the floor, without electricity, without furniture, without hot water. Without a fridge or a stove or anything. I could bring my yoga mat. I could go buy a bed on a credit card. There are some options. Yes I know.

Every time I try to do something in this city, I seem to fail. I tried to get an apartment. Instead, Omar had to sign the lease. Also, his parents had to be cosigners, because they don’t trust people to stand by their signature and pay their shit. So now, I have to wait for Omar to do everything. I get it that he isn’t in a rush. His parents take care of him. He doesn’t do his own laundry. He doesn’t make his own food. Anytime he needs anything, he asks them and they do it for him. That’s nice. It’s also something that I don’t have any desire for. I don’t want to rely on anyone. Not for anything. I don’t want anyone telling me how to do things unless I ask them. I don’t need people telling me when to eat, or what I should be doing. I don’t want them doing my laundry. I don’t need anyone cooking for me. I don’t need anything but companionship, really. I’m ok to rely on others for that. The rest, please no. But now I have put myself in a situation where I don’t have a choice.

I tried to find a floor for the apartment, because the one it has is a bit jacked. It’s wood, and there are a lot of places where it is broken. The people we are renting from said they’d pay for the floor, up to a certain amount. I went to look for a floor, and I found one for a very small amount more than they said, after spending hours and hours walking from store to store in the heat, talking to so many shopkeepers, explaining the situation. They all said that price is ridiculous for the amount of space of the floor. I finally talked one down to almost the price I needed, and the rental company said no. Fail. Omar’s mom told me maybe it is because they see I am American that I couldn’t get the price down more. Maybe Omar can get a lower price. And here I thought I did a good job. Fail.

We went to get electricity for the apartment yesterday, because it wasn’t working. The electric company told us the apartment has an outstanding debt of around $700, so we can’t get it until that is paid. So Omar called the landlords, and they told us the electric company was wrong. So we told them to fix it. I guess they are in the process of fixing it, but apparently, it takes days for the power to be turned back on once it is fixed, whenever that is. I have a feeling they won’t be fixing it anytime soon, but I suppose you can imagine why I don’t have much faith in them right now.

Sometimes I am terrified that the tap water here isn't safe for Luna to drink because it isn't safe for people to drink, and my current financial situation isn't that cool to be buying that quantity of bottled water, even if it is "cheaper" here. I've been doing things I would rather not do for money, and it's barely enough. It's just that see her hesitating to drink water from her bowl sometimes and my mind jumps to this horrible place, like I am not being a good dog mommy anymore, that bringing her here was a mistake. She deserves the best of everything. Look at that face. Uffff, Mexico City :(

My relationship with Omar lately kind of sucks. I know why. Everyone told me the Omar they knew before Barcelona wasn’t the Omar that came back. The only Omar I know is the one in Barcelona. The independent person who does things himself. Who is proactive. Who was putting effort into being considerate and empathic even when it wasn’t convenient for him. For instance, he just walked into the room, and I'm clearly sitting here crying; I don't think he even looked at me. He just got his guitar and left. I know what happens when you move back into your parents’ house. You regress into your old ways. It happens to all of us. You become the more childlike version of yourself. So Omar and I, things are fine, except for the fact that I am unhappy, and it’s not convenient for him to deal with it right now. He’s busy. In order to get anything for the apartment done, which I guess I can’t do myself, none of it, I have to nag him. I absolutely hate nagging. If you are making me nag you, it is your fault. You are doing something wrong. And then I feel angry at him for this behavior. But I am relying on him, so it’s difficult to say anything. I have to wait for the right time.

I think the worst part is I never feel like it’s the right time to talk about anything. He is always busy, maybe working his job, maybe working on other stuff. So often, he doesn’t get home until I am sleeping. Sometimes because of his job, other times because he just goes and hangs out with his friends. And when we do hang out, someone else is around, or I don’t want to ruin it by being upset, since I don’t hang out with him too much, really. Or I am just too frustrated talk about anything in a productive way, or too exhausted. The other day, I made the mistake of finally saying something when I was really upset, and instead of it being a productive conversation, I ended up being snarky and mean. Not what I wanted at all.

Now I end up associating all of this negativity with Mexico City. My life here is so far from what I want my life to be. My moments of satisfaction are few. I am trying hard to just let it go, be patient. The things I want are coming. The life I want is coming. The Mexico City I know is here, the one that is full of culture and art and beauty and chaos and warmth, it will unveil itself, I know. For now, all the zen I thought I had, I can’t find. I feel like I kept it in my body, my body a balloon with a slow leak, and now all the zen is gone. What’s left is a girl who feels trapped and sad and full of ennui, a girl who can’t find the motivation to make things better from so many failed attempts. A girl who cries everyday. The only time I can conjure up creativity is by taking drugs.

I’ve spent so long keeping this to myself. I do it because I hate complaining, especially when I know my life is really great overall. I do it because I don’t really want people to tell me things I already know. I don’t need advice. I don’t need someone to fix it. I don’t even mind crying if I need to cry.

I miss having friends I can text and then they come over or I go over and we hang out and talk and that’s it. Or we do anything. Just friends that are there, you know? I feel so lonely, and the longer I live out here at Omar’s parents’ house, far from the actual city, the longer it will be before I have a cool world like that here. There’s nothing else to do but keep waiting.

Sorry for the morose tone today. Sometimes things are just morose, and all you can do is live it until it changes, as it inevitably will.

xo,
Jessica

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Reading and reflecting on this on July 4, 2017, not too long after the letter was written, it's easy to see how rapid the changes occurred, how much life can shift without warning. In this case, I found Steemit, then piles of work started coming in, the apartment slowly but surely was able to come together as the funds weren't quite so low, and the difficulties of the city I was dealing with became easier to deal with as time passed and I adjusted. Also, all the stress I felt was mostly what caused the trouble with Omar, and after talking to him, things are back to regular amazing all the time.

Now things feel smooth. I will be appreciating this upward motion and smoothness, basking in the joyful moments with a big smile, sleeping deeply in the temporary well of comfort I have been granted, as I know a dip will eventually come again. None of this is bad; it is just is what it is.

The takeaway here is simpler though: keep a journal. Write letters to a distant relative. Document your inner world. It might be the thing that saves you one day <3