What would it be like to make a song about having lots of money? My song would go something like the lyrics in Cardi B.’s “Bodak Yellow”: “Used to worry, now I make my worries move.” How? By having them get in shape and making me get some money!
If I’d had a dime for every time I worried, extensively, I’d be having to smash my piggy bank multiple times. Like, several hundred, maybe, if I’m honest.
Ever thought of turning your mental disability into money?
Just get down on that bench and tear the turmoil from your soul. Get some glue and paste it onto the paper you found in your vicinity, from maybe the printer, or a notebook or bookbag, and then…lo and behold, you’ll witness something beautiful. You always have a story floating inside of you. It’s ugly, it’s nothing, but when put in front of millions…
It’s a work that no one has ever seen before.
That’s how you make money. When your mental health decides to “buck-block”, just…take the lemons and make lemonade, I guess. It’s not like your eating disorder is gonna let you make a lemon-pie. That would just be absurd!
But I’m serious…believe me, and…get creative with your ideas and experiences! The thoughts you traumatically react to and lock up in your head have to come out some time. So do the sweet memories you wished never ended.
Leave them in the care of the world. Watch them soak into the palms of it and make it soft, uncalloused, and feeling again. Who can heal but those who have been hurt?
I like the idea of transferring my ideas onto the visage of a PC monitor, because it validates my unique mental clockwork and warms my self-esteem up into a nice, tolerable-yet-also-comfortable bath for me to sit in. And I’m practicing self-care all the way through each blog post, short story, and poem. I’m reliving my life the way I want to live it. Through words. How I coped, how I personalized the situation, how I looked at it in retrospect. Rather than just sitting in the dull filth of exactly how the experience came at me. Entering it into a keyboard or a blank page re-makes it and makes me able to experience a more interactive memory of my past, especially the traumatic parts.
May seem a little scary, but it’s like that “If I could go back in time and change…I would…” journal prompt, but in real time. And you’re actually changing it, unlike just proposing changing it. You’re changing who you were in that moment, from being a victim to becoming a survivor. Someone who does something with that loss, that hurt. Hopefully for the victory it entails. And the dollaz. Because don’t you want to make someone pay up for your hurt? Okay, if dollars meant sympathy and understanding all around the world.
This post wasn’t really about dollars.
And that’s a little better than dollars, if you ask me. Because ***testimony*** it even saves ME dollars spent in the therapist’s office!
I still need that shiznit…
This helps…too. BELIEVE ME. ❤
Eat a cookie, will ye? You just read something motivational. Substitute a cookie by giving yourself a pat on your back though, if you have diabetes, or, as earlier stated, a severe starvation syndrome.