Seriously. No, really.
I can't sleep. I can't eat. It's just hot coffee simmered and sloshed on top of panic. Apparently I don't have the emotional bootstraps to talk myself out of how seriously shitty this month has been for me financially. I am at the end of my rope. Like, hanging from one ply of a frayed bit. And it's not like I'm sad because I spent too much money on Christmas (I can't), and it's not like I'm sad because I CAN'T spend money on Christmas because I'm honestly not materialistic like that and neither are my kids. It's not about a heap of presents. It's not about STUFF I can't buy, it's about basic needs. Like really really basic. Like shelter basic.
I'm sure once I'm done being such a busted sissy about it I will reach some clarity. I don't expect anyone to do it for me or give me a hand out. I just want a hand UP.
After a two year stint being unemployed and thinking there would be a Job out there for me and without any start up cash, no degree or $3000 certification, I'm making a career for myself as a Professional Organizer. It is an entirely trust based gig. Organizing isn't new to me, in fact it comes so naturally to me that I overlooked it as a marketable skill. But the business aspect is still pretty new for me, so there's still a lot of refining and tweaking and learning along the way. Sometimes I feel trapped by the stupid money part of it. I've been accused of poaching by others who charge three times my fee but I've also seen the furrowed brow of the interested but cash poor. I think I'm priced pretty fairly for the client, but certainly lower than I'd like to be. I've had to learn how to not give it away for free (cuz, uhm, hey guys? I really like you but this is my only source of income and I like feeding my kids and having heat and car insurance and a roof over my head.)
Organizing is a lot more work than just clearing off a shelf and putting stuff on it. I can organize the crap out of any room, but to give those efforts a chance to stick I have to tailor the process to the individual and I have to teach them the skills they need to manage on their own. I have to ask a million questions about intent and personal goals in order to help them make all the decisions that go along with keeping, donating, prioritizing, and accessibility of Important Stuff. Along the way I learn an awful lot about the people. It's pretty inexpensive therapy.
I absolutely love what I do. For real, for the first time in my long career of serving the pubic I've discovered that what I am truly best at is serving the individual, in their own space. It's exhausting and dusty and sometimes full of set backs, but I was made for this. I have other interests too, of course. I still write (but so far mostly for fun and not profit) and I still make stuff (also for fun and not profit). But in terms of nailing down what I can do for an honest, actual living, I've found it. I actually love my work. That's a rare and beautiful thing.
The problem is that on a good day a prospective client might look around and think, dang. I need help. Where do I start? So they call me ready to rock. I try to nail down an appointment date as close to that initial contact as possible but far too often the client finds themselves unable to imagine tackling something they clearly dislike doing on the actual day they chose in advance. They wake up with low energy and a headache and they cancel on me at the last minute. Or they have a financial panic and just can't move forward. Or they have some other legitimate sounding reason It's Just Not Going to Work Out Today, Sorry, Don't Be Mad. So, suddenly, on a day I've set aside just for them, I find myself without work. Without any pay at all. I know cancellations are par for the course, I get that. And they wouldn't sting quite so much if I had a stream of clients beating a path to my door, but I'm just not that well known yet. This month I've had five cancellations, some of them from long time clients, some from people who responded to a Craigslist ad and seemed really serious until the morning of.
This month I have made a grand total of $460, which is already gone. Not on frivolous things like lattes and Christmas presents and toilet paper, but to things like The Glorious Utility Bills. My tiny money pool also stars Minimum Credit Card Payments for the Gas and Food Costs of Months Long Past. You know, those basic things a person really needs to have, so I buy them on loan thinking next month will surely be better and I can pay for it then, but it isn't, so I can't.
BLARGUM FRICKETY FUCK
I already bawled my eyes out. Now I go pick the kids up from school and pretend I don't have a crushing elephant of financial responsibility trumpeting away on my chest.
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