Happy Friday everyone. I hope you’re having a wonderful day and that you continue to accomplish the things you’ve set out on.

Today, I called out from work today with the excuse of being sick. And trust me, I am sick. My stomach is knots and my head hurts, but it’s also the clearest it’s felt in years. Years of brain fog have disappeared, and I don’t know the exact thing that’s cleared it, but I thank whatever it is anyways.

That being said, yes I am sick. I’m sick of going into work everyday. I’m sick of not being able to sleep over my girlfriends house because my brother won’t allow it. I’m sick of not having financial freedom or self discipline. I’m sick of feeling like I’m one step behind everyone else.

Many days I go to sleep, after another long day, and I’m kept up because I can’t think of anything besides how much I’ve wasted my day doing nothing and how I’m going to turn out like a failure. I imagine myself 10 years down the line, 32 years old, still living in this room in my brother’s house, still living under some else’s roof, and that thought scares me. It scares me to my core, because I’ve seen in happen first hand.

Recently, I’ve come to the conclusion that if I wanted to feel any sort of satisfaction with my life, I needed to begin waking up for myself. Not for my job, not because someone needs me to do something, not because it’s 11:30 already and I’ve wasted half the day, but truly to wake up to do something I wanted to do. So everyone morning, before work, before writing, before even brushing my teeth, I decided I would stretch my body and meditate. Do something for myself. I found within waking up for myself, the thought of working for someone else felt absurdly bothersome. With that, I’ve now come to the conclusion that I must also work for myself as well.

And how do I do that in today’s current economic and political climate? I very much wish I had all the answers. What I do know, however, is that going into a job every morning and slaving away for 8 hours while some other person bears the fruits of my labor makes me absolutely sick.