Slacker

A few years ago I was a completely different person than I am today.

I owned a bookkeeping and management company and worked 70-80 hours per week. My day started at 5am, I worked through lunch, I went home after dark. I had no social life other than renting a movie on Saturday night with my BFF and a rare lunch when a friend made me feel guilty about not being a friend back. I had several vibrators and a fuck buddy that I called upon when necessity demanded it.

My home was always neat and tidy. I wasn’t much for dusting but everything was always in it’s place. Everything. Always. If I moved a coaster, I put it back where it came from when I was finished with it. I made my bed as soon as I rolled out of it. Clothes were in the hamper and washed in timely manner. Dishes were in the dishwasher, never in the sink and never ever left on the counter (oh, the  horror!).

My hair was cut and coloured every eight weeks. Facials at least four times a year. My brows were professionally waxed and coloured once a month. I bought a new wardrobe every season and gave the old one to charity. I completely redecorated my home three times in five years. I did not own a car for more than two years.

I had to do everything right all the time. It wasn’t a question. I didn’t stop and think about it, I just did it. I was a perfect human being living a perfect life. This was the me I promised myself I would become in my youth. This was the perfect version of me.

And I was miserable.

Flash forward to the present, I look back on that person and laugh so hard I could cry. Or cry so hard I could laugh. I don’t even know her now.

I have worked about five months in the past two years - I’m not really sure because I don’t really care. I sold my condo and cashed in all of my investments last year to pay off my credit cards so I could live off of them for a while longer. I would be in debt to my eyeballs if I was about two feet taller.

There are clothes piled on my bed, on the floor, in the hamper, next to the hamper, even on the chair I’m sitting on. The bed hasn’t been made yet this year. My nightstand door has been left open for at least a week; laptop, books, magazines and the cell charger sit on the floor next to it. Papers, notebooks, pens, earrings, candies, DVDs, and ponytail rings are strewn all over my desk. There are boxes and storage bins lined against the walls, waiting to be packed and put away.

And I am at peace.

Not because of these things. Being a slacker didn’t make everything in my life better… finding a way to get off the ledge I was standing on did. But we’ll save that story for another day.