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#2023 was wild. like. it wasn’t my worst year because I hit rock bottom a long-ass time ago
strohller27 · 4 months
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Man. Last year was wild (memories and musings under the cut).
One memory from last year that I probably wont be over anytime soon is when I was working a retail popup on the waterfront for the cruise ship guests.
A bit of context: At this point of last year, I was painfully homeless and when I wasn’t spending $2200 a month airbnb-hopping, I was living out of a tent at a campground to save money. My access to showers and potable drinking water was iffy at best (the showers on the campground were $2 for five minutes, and the closest water spout that worked well enough to fill bottles with was the literal bathroom sink. I’m surprised the water didn’t make me sick. The water from there often left a really weird taste/cottony sensation in the back of my throat that took days to get rid of, unless I boiled it first, and that was *if* I had access to a power outlet and an electric kettle. Also one of the airbnbs I stayed at got the water shut off for almost 28 hours because the host wasn’t paying his goddamn bills. But that’s a story I tell elsewhere). I had no reliable access to refrigeration, whether I was at an airbnb or the campground, so everything I bought to eat had to be non-perishable. For a while there, I was skipping breakfast to save enough money to buy myself loaves of bread, peanut butter, protein bars, and ramen packets.
If I wanted a hot meal, the best thing I could get was Tim Horton’s (and when I did, I was mostly using a credit card). Sometimes the only reason I could afford to both eat and have a place to stay was because I had built up Tim’s rewards points.
Thank goodness it was still mostly summer and I wasn’t also freezing cold at night.
And then I had to go to work and there were so many customers at that waterfront popup telling me I should give them discounts because “Well, I’m broke, I spent all of my money on a cruise!”
Oh? Oh??? I’m so sorry, you poor, unfortunate little soul???? Does the poow wittle bwoke babykins need a wittle discount??
First off, friendo, you keep asking me if the price is in ‘american’ because you forgot that you’re in a literal different country right now. Second, you’re complaining to a minimum wage worker about how, ‘everything is so expensive here! Oh my god you have to pay that much in taxes? What do you mean I have to pay taxes on purchases, too’. You have main character syndrome and you have the absolute goddamned gall to think you deserve $300 off a $500 handmade, HAND EMBROIDERED woollen cape that you probably won’t even wear because you live in texas????
OH, YOU “““CAN’T AFFORD””” TO BUY THAT 30 DOLLAR SCARF BECAUSE YOU *CHECKS NOTES* HAD ENOUGH MONEY TO GO ON A LITERAL INTERNATIONAL FUCKING CRUISE, BETSY-ANN??
CRY ME A FUCKING RIVER.
But the one that gets me the worst was when a guy was there with his daughter. She was probably 12 or 13. And she wanted to buy a little Canadian flag to commemorate her visit. It was literally priced at. Two. Dollars. Ninety five. Cents.
And he said to her, “Oh, come on. What good is buying this going to do? Who is it supporting.”
I was so done by that point I literally raised my hand and yelled.
“ME IT WILL SUPPORT ME IT WILL HELP ME DO FUN LITTLE THINGS LIKE BUY GROCERIES. AND EAT.”
The daughter bought the flag.
I spent so much of last year worrying about where I was going to live. Worrying about how precarious my situation was. My mother was on the phone with me almost begging me to “come home”. To give up on my dreams because it was too hard. Several people suggested that, including my academic advisor. But I wasn’t going to let it go. I let spite get me here and goddamned if I wasn’t going to let spite keep me hanging on.
And now I’m living in a place that has mostly everything I need. I don’t have to crawl under a desk to get to my bed. I don’t have to ask for permission or worry about who it will affect when I want to do something nice for myself. I’m able to make my own decisions about my living space. I get to set my own schedule. I get to do things at my own pace. I get to eat what I want to eat (and my landlady keeps feeding me, too). Now that I’m not hemorrhaging funds, I’ve been able to save up some money. I’m regularly showering and brushing my teeth. I finally have the energy make my goddamned bed every day. I’m taking care of myself in ways that seemed insurmountable last year.
I’m not saying it’s perfect, and there are still things I have to address (like the weird numb spots on the tips of both my big toes that I noticed when I was still living at the campground; like staying on a consistent schedule with my medications; like taking too many hours at work because I’m worried about affording things). And I’m aware that I completely lucked out that I speak enough Russian to be able to understand my landlord/lady. But this is so much better than I could have hoped for.
And the rest of it wasn’t all bad either. Airbnb-hopping was expensive, but staying in different areas helped me learn the city. And now I’m working at a place that I don’t hate with a passion like I did when I was working food service in the states. I actually really like my coworkers (and funny enough, the small business I work for really does feel like a family). I get to wear my kilts to work. I have the necessary knowledge to be a perfect fit for the job, and I was apparently ‘an answer to a prayer’.
The misty mornings on the campground were more magical than any other mornings I’ve ever experienced in my life. I walked around the campground and saw its little lake beach and river. I made friends with the spiders. I named most of them. Every time I heard the squirrels and chipmunks get into an argument I would giggle to myself and think ‘the girls are fightinng!’ I drove to the beach, and I saw a little boy hold up a crab he’d found with the biggest smile on his face when he asked if I wanted to pet it. I felt an almost uncontrollable urge to pick up the seaweed and eat it. I met interesting people. I made some friends. I went to a famous lighthouse. I rode the ferry to work and watched massive cruise ships docking, feeling as much awe as I did when I first saw Star Trek: The Motion Picture. I watched the sun both rise and set over the harbour. And I fell in love with this place despite all of the challenges that were in my path.
Perfect or not, I needed this. I needed to be self-sufficient and live my own life. I needed to see beauty and wonder and touch sand that was on a beach instead of on my bedroom floor. And I’m so sad that the only two times in my life I’ve really been able to do things like this and live the life I want were when I left the US. And because of that, I’m really not planning on going back to live there.
Funny that I had to leave the “land of the free” to really feel/be free, eh? Whatever the case, now I’m a maritimer by choice.
Here’s to 2024. May I learn from all that 2023 taught me (If shit sucks, hit da bricks. Leave. Do it scared. Do it alone and scared. Don’t settle for less than you deserve. Find beauty in the mundane. Advocate for yourself and your skills. Make decisions that will provide for your future so that you can take the steps you want to take, even if people think something like learning Russian isn’t going to be useful. Take those steps you want to take to follow your dreams, even if your dream seems flimsy like a cardboard façade to you. Even if those are the hardest steps you ever have to take. Today can be ‘someday’, if you let it. The greatest adventure is what lies ahead, today and tomorrow are yet to be said). May 2024 be a year for more steps forward than steps back.
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