ALL WRITTEN AND ARTWORK ARE THE INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY OF PSG LOPES. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, 2019.
2019 has proven to dole out immensely painful lessons one after the other. I have been tested in ways that surely have surpassed even Job. I just keep getting sucker punched at every turn and it seems to only get worse.
The tally so far this year: Breaking up with my fiance on New Years Eve, getting into a minor fender bender because I was a dollar short (yep, you read that right!) to pay my bills and went to the bank to make a deposit and a dumb drunk old lady hit my car from behind, my dad and mom getting the flu, dad being sent to the hospital with pneumonia and we all thought he was going to die, dad coming home bed bound, not wanting to eat and being completely without speech, the emotional toll it took watching my dad in that near catatonic state until many weeks later he finally stabilized and is feeling much better thankfully, the first newspaper article of the year done on one of my books that was corroded with mistakes due to a bad journalist who just didn’t care to take accurate notes of our interview, getting a $45 ticket for parking in an area that had no parking meter even though the ticket said it had expired (I swear I looked all over before parking, there was no parking meter!), being mocked and shamed and embarrassed at my old doctor’s office because I’m poor and wanted hearing aids for myself, and now for the clincher… accidentally saving my new novella under a file with the same name and losing 55 pages worth of progress. I am feeling a bit numb today. I’m at a real loss of what to say, how to feel, I just don’t understand the lessons I’m supposed to be learning through all of these hardships?
There’s only so much resilience, so many fake smiles, so many positive motivational quotes, so many meaningless platitudes spewed by those around me that can keep me going. Yes, I’ve tried numerous things to retrieve the files and so did both my brothers, sister, and her friend.
What is so sad is that yesterday was such a good day for me mentally. I don’t get many of those days anymore. I’m so riddled with anxiety and depression that that consumes my mind 99% of the time. I finally had the courage to sit down and spent hours working on the novella and was so proud of how it was shaping up. I have a lot of ideas jotted into notebooks but they’re all an incoherent mess. I was able to decipher my notes, craft beautifully lyrical sentences that were so moving and magical. I was so impressed with how my story was taking shape. I have an author word wall with new words that I want to use for my next projects and I was able to craftily weave all twelve words into my work seamlessly. It was an impressive feat. Then just with one click of a button that all disappeared. I spent hours watching youtube videos but it was all the same. There was no recoverable file to be found. The file I need is long gone.
I just don’t have it in me to re-do all that mess again. What if that same creative spark just doesn’t happen again? I’ve been writing essentially my whole life, I have worked on my bachelors, masters, and doctorate, and have been writing professionally since 2016. I have written so many papers, so many poems, so many short stories, etc. I have never made this mistake before. I have always saved in quadruplicate. I was always so careful how I saved my work and then this one minute, sixty seconds, just completely blew up my world. I just laid in bed for hours last night, tears filling my eyes, wondering who I was in another life that causes me to constantly endure this much bad luck in one lifetime? I just don’t understand it. Even my mother was telling me I should go to a shaman or a spiritualist to get this curse lifted from me. Whatever force is out there is preventing me from being fulfilled and happy. I know that sounds so hokey but what else could it be when one is constantly being plagued by horrible misfortune?
I’m not terribly dramatic in saying things like I don’t want to live anymore or anything to that extreme, but my will to live and my determination to keep going in life is certainly dwindling. I don’t have much in this sad little life of mine. I take the greatest pride in my writing. It truly is the very last joy I have on this godforsaken planet of ours. Can’t I just experience one win? Just one? Why do I always have to learn these ridiculous life lessons? It’s too much sometimes. I don’t have much left in me. I need a win. Just one. To even up the playing field a bit. I can’t just be this riddled with bad luck without being blessed with at least one good fortunate event. Life can’t be that cruel, can it?