Treeze Moynham: flood in a desert
Right now, I’m writing under overhead, incandescent light and I’m going a little bonkers because of it. My day of trying to get some work done went down with the sun. It’s amazing how such a bright light always makes me go to bed early. Tomorrow, I will be heading to a coffee shop with my iPad to do work because my 4+ year old laptop has keys that don’t work + an overheating issue.
I’m not even at home. My room flooded on Monday, January 30th, and then I came to this other rental property in the neighborhood on Thursday morning, February 2nd. In between that time, the leak became like a swamp.
To see standing water in your room, and it’s not due to strong rains or a hurricane, is strange, very strange.
That was only because the carpet where the leak seemed to originate had been taken out. It was now just wood.
The water leaked out of my bedroom, into the tiled bathroom, into the roomies’ bathroom (neither of them reported the flooding at that point), and into the kitchen.
The house was re-piped and given a new hot water heater on Friday, February 3rd.
I came and took out the rest of my things on Saturday, February 4th, hoping that they would take out the carpet, too. I also vacuumed up gallons of water because the house was stinking like cat piss.
Apparently, just keeping the windows open and the fan on high would be enough. In Florida.
Granted it is the winter. Humidity is low, praise swamp Jesus. But still.
But the carpet stayed on the floor–now damp, but probably still waterlogged.
The county came and inspected the job on Monday, February 6th. The plumbers, who were so kind and friendly, came and patched up all the holes on Tuesday, February 7th.
That house has gone through plagues, and awful ownership. Today, on Saturday, February the 11th, the landlord and landlady finally took up the damp carpet. They were actually going to put new flooring in but, surprise: the tacks behind the carpet were waterlogged. They also got the wrong type of flooring.
So now my room is empty, save my closet which is tiled and never got wet–and the bathroom, which is also tiled. The room is drying some more. They will reassess tomorrow about what to do. I may get carpet again, vs. laminate.
In my heart, my mind, my soul–I know I’ll be back in my room next week. That is without a question. I will ask that the room be checked for mold because mold is nothing to fuck with.
Even if these young property owners have no real sense of urgency or true empathy to my situation, to the household’s situation, to the idea that property management is not passive income…I will be fine. I will leave as soon as possible.
But tonight, I can’t do what I fucking want to do, which is to write a bunch of articles and make money, dammit.
The moon is in Virgo right now. Virgo, a much maligned sign, is industrious, like Capricorn, but more into the details. I like doing work under Virgo moons, especially writing. Virgo is ruled by the planet Mercury, and one of Mercury’s specialties is communication–and this is why #MercuryRetrograde can suck because the proverbial socks get lost in the dryer–or, um, emails get lost in the interwebs.
The moon in Virgo, to me as a Capricorn, is like a sunny day in Chicago, or a low humidity day in Florida–you do not waste those. You find some reason to go outside, even for a few minutes to enjoy your good fortune.
But alas, I’m just uncharacteristically scatterbrained (unlike writing this blog post under the overly bright light in this temporary housing situation–I’m oddly focused).
I think what’s going on here is that my Cancer moon has just decided that I need to stop being so resilient and be not OK with it.
There was a moment today that I almost cried–but I learned from a writing assignment I did a couple of days ago that at least according to science, crying isn’t really that helpful in making you feel better. Sometimes it can make you feel worse.
If I cry about this, it’d be about the sheer absurdity of my life right now. My life has been farcical for quite some time. But how is being underemployed for months not a common American experience? Even me having such a rough time in Florida isn’t uncommon. So many Uber drivers told me how tough it was to make it down here, and how some folks would go back to where they came from.
It’s been a bit of a slow death spiral. But I think I’m tired of feeling like I’m going to die if things don’t work out soon, even though there’s no more unemployment insurance until later October of this year. Until like a few minutes ago, my fundraiser had stalled. I had a string of job rejections last week. My car is 2 months behind and counting in payment, but by now I always seem to catch up to just be a few days behind.
Here comes the fear again, threatening to take me into the next life.
This managing editor position wants ANOTHER writing exercise, due Tuesday. I now have nine writing assignments due pretty soon, which hey–those actually pay, so I’m grateful.
So there goes the doom, rolling away. I’m still in this.
Yesterday, I received a great tarot reading with Jessi Huntenburg , which you should do RIGHT NOW since these specific Leo Full Moon tarot readings end today.
I asked about work. Work will be fine. I will probably look at the reading again after I am done writing this post, since there are some things I can still do.
In my scattered state, I started to go through emails about jobs, to really tune into what I could be doing. Or, more like to shut up the ever-loud voices of fear and doubt. Am I off track? I really am feeling this managing editor position, but I feel so many things that never become the full, ripened fruit.
The freelance stuff is slowly starting to come together, but it’s not like pay all my bills come together.
I’m not frightened. I’m not tired. I just can’t think my way out of this, as much. Stress literally stupefies. My thoughts are short-circuiting–and not in a depression way. That I know. I’m lucid, but this problem is just not being solved tonight.
I think the room flooding just broke me. Not in a soul-crushing way–my soul is flat as a crepe. More like it broke my brain.
Shit is not working–my brain, and my life.
So, I’m considering and reconsidering options, but mostly, I feel like I need to get back in balance. There’s been a lot of doing, calling, applying…not a lot of seeking Spirit.
For example, after I messaged Jessi that I wanted a reading from her, an old client popped back up that day. I’ve seen that if I reach out for answers, many times things will start to shift before I get the reading. So this was one of those times. It was confirmation that I was to ask for insight, even though I know deep down things will work out. The details? The ETA? The messenger? I’ve no clue about all that.
Even more so seeking without, it’s seeking within–my spiritual posse. Specifically, Archangel Ariel is my girl right now. One of her specialties, besides being an earth mama of sorts, is provision–especially when you’re in a jam. Every time I ask, work shows up. Today, I asked for more, and then an assignment came for more money that I’m used to.
I do not have to do this alone.
And then there are my guides. I have four. I feel weird talking about guides because I’ve been really resistant on this topic. It still seems made up and fictional.
But still: one is a friend who passed years ago (I’m spoken about him before), and the other three are just people–two men, two women in total. They have been hanging back. They used to be more in my face. I will seek them out, tonight.
So yeah, it’s angels and guides and Spirit…and Capricorns are spiritual. We’re sea goats after all–climbing the highest of heights, but having reached the deepest of depths with our little fish tails. Sometimes, we forget our sea origins. So sometimes, we get sent floods (I guess).
And yes, I’ve hit a new bottom–I’m living with strangers, albeit nice ones. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me financially–and after months of swimming in the unknown, I’m tired of feeling disoriented. And today had me shook up a bit.
At least now, I have this meetup group of people I meet with every week. I’m starting to actually be seen and heard and missed and thought about, in my town, as I have desired and wanted and needed. I think it’s given me a bit of a psychic grounding.
I need to take the rest of the night to get it together–or get closer to some semblance of “together.”
It’s OK that my head is a fucking mess. It’s OK that things aren’t computing anymore. It’s OK that I hit a wall not only emotionally, but also just with my levels of life comprehension.
Shit is just not making sense. So, bring on the divine intervention! Turn on the light bulbs (unlike the awful one I’m sitting under right now).
It’s all relative, but it’s been hell for me.Yet even still, I’m fed, clothed, and housed. I have transportation. I have people who love and care about me in my life. It could be a lot worse. I have experienced a lot worse. So it’s not about the circumstances.
This journey isn’t about whether I get that managing editor position or not. It’s about figuring out how to get through life in general, identifying who my people are right now and sticking by them as they stick by me. Whether that’s in the spiritual realm or the earthly realm–doesn’t matter.
There are people who exist who are on my side and who want to help me.
And sometimes, as cliche as this sounds, you have to get jostled around to figure out what really matters. And this lesson didn’t come riding on a big horse, announcing its triumphant entry into my life. It came out in a sort of mumbling to myself, as I was sitting here writing, as I had become tired of my ingratitude, tired of my tiredness.
I can now recognize and appreciate the level of strength and resilience I have in myself. I can also recognize that my Superwoman years are coming to a close…