I have been painfully aware of this moment for many years. You see, the handbook for “How to Be A Woman” has several entries of many women finding themselves where I am at.
I have no job. I have no savings. I have no home to call my own.
I am also leaving the man I built a life with for 13 years and crashing at a series of friends’ homes. The technical term is homeless.
Dear future generation of men lovers, this is why you should always have your own income. I feel shame at believing this. That statement is ableist and also there’s no cute way to bridge needing care and needing your own income in this iteration of society.
At the moment, my whole family is homeless. In my desperation, I dragged them to Puerto Rico to run away from the pain my body feels in winter. It's on me. It's always on me. Many will hold me to this.
Their needs are in Hartford, so towards Hartford, CT I reluctantly go. I love the beautiful humans of Hartford, but I'm too sick for the cold. For context, I'm wearing a hoodie in 76-degree weather to feel warmer. Hartford is going to be rough.
My friends tell me they will help with the transition period. Everyone wants to reassure me everything will be ok, but it hasn't been. To not appear too needy I reassure them that they are right.
My mother's cynicism reminds me "En los amigos no se puede contar!"
As if I could ever count on family; save my sister. If I believe her, it leaves me with no one to count on. I can't afford to believe that right now.
It's so many people's truth. Sad story.
“I am no stranger to this version of homelessness though. I’ll be aight.” I tell myself as I start to disassociate from my body and its needs.
“Death is real and ultimately we all become immobile Jen,” I whisper to myself as I slip away into nothingness. Nothingness starts to feel like a suitable home.
Maybe I'm slipping too far.
To bring my being back into its body I picture my child warm in the Hartford winter inside of his grandmother's home and then his father's. I let out a sigh of relief that at least he didn’t abandon his seed.
I remind myself I left him. I remind myself to let go of resentment towards him as we have many birthdays to plan.
I remind myself I’m still mobile and still here.
I remind myself I didn't make all bad choices.
"Hey, the partner I picked is smart enough to make sure my kid is ok." I tell myself in reassurance.
Me though? I should’ve been smarter. That’s what everyone will remind me of eventually anyways. The Handbook of How to Be A Woman gets another “learn from me” entry and I am the author.
Shit. MAAAANNN FUCK THIS.