Today driving away from the prison after picking up my check for when I worked there. The thing is… it was a lot of money. I was making a lot of money. But I hated that job more than anything I have done with my life.
So I have come to this line in my life where I can do what I love for very little, or serve as a cog in a system for a lot, but doesn’t that seem wrong? My utopian society includes high pay for creative types like myself.
I am forever thankful for the job I have now. I get to come up with ideas and follow through on them, I get to make things happen. But these last few weeks have been anything but easy, because there is an individual at the college who desires to ruin my life. Why? You know, I’m not really sure. I have been unfailingly kind to her. I give her the benefit of the doubt, I forgive, forgive, and then forgive again; yet it would still seem that she desires my demise. So much so that she had her son write a nasty threat filled letter of things that I supposedly said. Except I didn’t. Having someone lie about me is one of the hardest situations I have ever dealt with. It seems like this person isn’t just trying to ruin me, but she is trying to assassinate my character and I find that unacceptable. To the point where I avoid said person at all cost, I have rearranged my life to accommodate her comings and goings. I feel like I am walking around with a target on my back. While I understand that not everyone will like me, I never expected someone to hate me. I have spent a good portion of my life trying to extinguish hate wherever possible. I have given my life to loving people, to hospitality and outright positivity until you believe it, and then some. I believe in the creative power of people, I believe that in every person there is passion and power just waiting to be pulled out and put to use.
I suppose that at the root of what I am feeling is disappointment. I want someone to stick up for me, to testify to my character. I have to believe that there is a higher opinion to seek, but it’s hard sometimes. Because when you are sitting in a room with three people who barely know you and you are accused of something that you would never say, never do, and no one says “Toni would never say that” it’s hard. And I cried. And it was good. Good to cry, good to be vulnerable with these people, because vulnerability is the key to healthy relationships. But perhaps I was the only person in the room who understood that. Perhaps they all see me as weak and fallible.
I assemble words to express my emotions. Remember who you are, Toni. You have everything you need, Toni. Move on, Toni. But those words don’t undo the hurt I feel, or the fear.
Once, on a picnic table in the forest, I swore to myself that I wouldn’t let fear drive my life.
I would stop making decisions out of fear, stop hiding from the world.
I desired to be true and vulnerable and courageous.
At 22 I am young enough to be an idealist, yet everyday is a struggle to maintain,
kindness is not always easy.
Fear is not the enemy, but a life driven by fear is.
To top all of this off, a friend who deals with mental illness recently wrote me on Facebook after months with out hearing a word. And while I have no idea how to start that dialog, I know that the best response I can find is “I’m good, how are you?” Is this enough? Does it span the canyon that has grown between us?
Of course not. But it’s a start.
