Rollercoaster

Woo, yesterday was a rollercoaster of emotion, intention, and being. Mike and I have been scouring Craigslist the last week or so desperately in search of some work, ideally outside this house. Mike's got his internet thing all set up, but he wants a steady, outside job to keep his mind off of his click statistics, not to mention reel us in some steady income. I be hungry! I want a hobby, a job, something to keep me productive and prevent insanity from setting in. Sitting in this house day in, day out makes me crazy, like I'm in a black hole where depression and anxiety dig deep and quickly. I went to a dance class in Boston a few weeks ago, but it became financially impractical when I realized it cost almost $30 to get there, pay for the class, and get back. There's an audition for some sort of choir tomorrow, but the spring concert is two weeks after the baby's due date. Even if I were decorating the baby's room, physically preparing in some way it would be okay, but there's nothing to do right now. As of yet we have no crib, no shelves, no furniture, nothing to put the dozens of outfits I received at the shower on. So, I look to the outside.

It's a challenge for me to formulate in my mind what I want to do because I'm constantly met with things that I cannot or definitely do not want to do. There seem to be hordes of jobs for the qualified, which I am not. One thing we both know we do not want to do is work in restaurants. I've done enough of that, and it's hardly a job for a nearly seven month pregnant woman. The running around, sweating, stressful backbreaking duties are hardly worth the minimum wage. And all the time I am met with my own limiting belief that "no one is going to hire a pregnant woman who is going to quit in two months." And really, isn't that generally true? Although when I worked at Domino's all those years ago, this heavily pregnant, Marlboro-sucking woman started work on my last day. I told her I didn't approve of her smoking and forgot all about it, but I suppose that sort of thing does happen.

One thing I can do is write. It's a perfect job for me, as it usually pays well, and I don't have to worry about any painful labor until the baby comes. Unfortunately I have had a bad experience with a so-called "professional" magazine editor already ("hey, let's just not pay her!"), but I'm not letting that deter me from working with people again. Now what I'm going to do with those violated trust issues, I don't know. Gandhi says even if a man betrays you 70 times, you should trust him 71 times. I imagine he means you should trust him infinitely. Well, I'm not Gandhi, and taking advantage of freelancers pisses me off!

But of all the ads we have responded to, we either get no response or one response and silence thereafter. This is entirely frustrating to both of us. What are we doing wrong? Honestly! What are we vibrating that turns the Universe off so much? Some crackheads have jobs, why don't we? We's good people, and we really do work hard. Fuck!

At some point mid-day I was attempting to post a "writer for hire" ad on Craigslist when Allison turned on the TV, and I grudgingly dragged the computer into our bedroom to write in silence. Mike was breathing cross-legged on the bed. Just as I had my ad worded to perfection the computer froze. I closed my eyes and felt the blood pump faster in my veins. I don't know how long it took for the machine to start back up, it could have been 10 minutes, but I tried it again. Just as before, the page froze as I neared completion. I closed my eyes again, Mike tsked and slid the computer onto his lap, as he loves to take care of these things. I felt his frustration and expectation that I was about to freak out, which I was, but I just kept my eyes closed softly and breathed iiiiiin and ooooouuuut. The blood was still pumping hard and fast, daring me to snap, but I didn't dare even open my eyes. I squeezed two single tears out from beneath my gently rested eyelids and continued to breathe. Mike clicked and clicked, I knew nothing was working, but the more I stayed still the weaker his frustration became. I had two choices: open my eyes, say something destructive and proceed to slam around the house damning my luck and life and the goddamn Universe, or remain silent and let it just pass by. The former option was still teetering on the brink of transpiring, like an aching sweet tooth. I let two more tears fall.

After a few minutes of this my blood pressure went back down, and I didn't necessarily want to throw the computer against the wall, but I thought it best to stick with it just in case. Just to see what happens. Very rarely had I ever had the patience to stay inside a meditation, as I guess I'd never truly been in one. Never a necessary one at least! Mike, for some reason, offered me the computer again once he'd gotten it straightened out, and I quietly but emphatically declined. Cha! Right! Like I'd want to start the whole process over again! He didn't try to speak to me again after that, though he did continue to clack the computer keys right next to me, which brought up annoyance. When this continued to bother me, I unhesitatingly went back to the breath, but when that wasn't working very well I started doing the Alternate Nostril Breathing exercise. I don't have the desire to describe it here, so just google it, it's good. That exercise immediately brought me back to my breath awareness--it kind of had to, my nose had some snot in it, and if I wanted to get the oxygen in and out effectively, I had to pay attention to it. After a few minutes of this I went back to normal breathing, and I noticed I felt strange, like drunk or drug strange. I quickly acknowledged that it seemed like my head was tilted to the left side, like when you fall asleep on an airplane. I didn't dare open my eyes to check, but it soon got weirder. Not only was my head tilted to the side, but I felt like I was scrunched up, sitting in bed like a distorted midget with its head tilted to the side. Such a bizarre sensation! Then my eyes seemed to get closer to the darkness ahead of them, like my eyeballs were not just observing it, but they were a part of the darkness behind the eyelids. And the computer! That damn computer again! I became super aware of it, like it was sitting right next to my head, motor whirrrrring my brains out. At this I was still very annoyed with Mike for continuing to use it next to me when I was obviously in quite the state.

Shortly thereafter I lost the awareness and came out of the meditation, but what a ride that was! I told Mike all about it after I'd gotten my head back, including how I never want to see or hear a computer again during a meditation. If he notices me breathing with my eyes closed, get that thing away from me! It felt good that I had conquered the anger and turned it into a positive experience, but then I started musing and the questions and tears flowed. "What is the blockage here? Why are we not attracting what we want? I don't know how to fix the problem if I don't know what it is." It seems like I've made plenty of room in my life for financial abundance. There's room in my wallet for a stack of 100s! There's room in the fridge for good food! I feel like I have made room in my life for abundance to come in, but it continues to stay just out of reach.

I am as optimistic and positive as I can be, but the negativity and fear still creep in. And that's normal, isn't it? So what if I'm not following all the rules of effective manifestation? Now it seems like if I have one negative thought it cancels out all the positivity I have cultivated. Before I even knew about the Law of Attraction my life was great! I trusted that I would always have the things I had always had, and more, but suddenly just knowing about the power causes it to slip away. What kind of bullshit is that?? Maybe I'm forcing it, maybe I think about it too much. I don't know where the perfect medium is. But how am I not supposed to think about it when my cupboards are empty and the insurance payment approaches? How am I supposed to remain positive when I see voids everywhere???