As I write this, tears are rolling down my face, my throat feels like it might implode the way it does when we’ve trapped sobs in there, and I’ve turned my phone off.
You see, about a year ago, I became lowkey obsessed with the idea of passive income. I started following social media accounts, spoke to a friend in finance, and learned the beginnings of investing in stocks & trading. There is massive opportunity in the internet to make income, and as the only earner in my home in an ever increasingly challenging economy, while holding a ton of poverty trauma from my years as a young single mom, I walk around in two places - either with my head in the clouds blissfully ignoring the weight and potential doom of the economical world, or whiteknuckling through each moment in financial dread.
I hate money, and I hate living in a society that has monetized everything. I hate how inaccessible earning equitable worth has become, and I hate that housing is becoming a luxury.
My day job certainly doesn’t bring the calm here, either. As my therapist says, I see life through a particularly challenging lens. Leading a healthcare clinic for people in homelessness & poverty means I have 40+ hours per week of access to tragedy caused by social injustice. I hear and witness tragically sorrowful circumstances, connect fraying thread to those social power players corrupting our societal tapestry, and empower those I can however I can, even when all I can do sometimes to provide light is tell bad dad jokes while we wait on hold while calling yet another flawed social system claiming to help.
Why the tears, though. Why the sobs stuck in my throat?
I woke up frantic today, remembering some business goals, and spent the morning staring at my canceled amazon associate membership, and floundering business pinterest account. A year ago, I had goals. Today, I have disdain for my neurodivergence, post-concussion syndrome & messed up thyroid. For the last few months, I’ve been stepping forward with intent to work less so that I can live more. Because of all the health stuff, I have less stamina than I care to have, so I have to be real choosey about what my limited, precious energy is spent on. I am seeing now, rather annoyingly, that perhaps my limits are a blessing keeping me on track to stay true to my values.
Because while ranting about it all, a beloved friend reminded me of a hard truth:
Can I really earn passive income from organizations that contribute to social injustice through wealth imbalances and with integrity, look at myself in a mirror? Can I engage aspects of late stage capitalism for personal gain and authentically show up in a leadership position at my non-profit gig to support society’s most vulnerable? Can I re-register my affiliate accounts and stay on the side of justice makers?
I don’t think I can
and it's uncomfortable.
Late stage capitalism is a mindfuck for those of us who get starry eyed & swept away with the promise of wealth. Tired and terrified about the future? Here, gain passive income. Doing so only takes a few hours each day.
Shit.
The truth is, I don't want to be another rat in the race.
I want to create art that matters without worrying about monetizing. I want to have meaningful, restorative connection with people, plants & animals. I want us, and the earth, to be healthy and holistically comfortable.
So, what does this mean about my business goals of past?
I suppose I gotta stop letting my neurodivergence & trauma responses create all these extra side quests. I will focus on health, family, justice work, joy and creative expression. I will say no to opportunities for passive income, and yes to experiences that grow active faith; yes to looking some of the most beautiful souls in the face with integrity whether they're guffawing at another cheesy joke, numbing insurmountable pain, or yelling about their right to feel angry in the circumstances they've been given. As a balm to my own poverty trauma (that I will eventually take to therapy), I'll choose to have faith that my family will always have our needs met, that the Universe has us all in the Divine Palm, and while I rely on the healers in the small corner of my world, I will have faith in the big picture too - that there will be eternal consequences for those corrupt threads.
And I will do all of this with as much love as I can muster, and when those sobs shake themselves free from my throat, they too will increase the love braiding around all of our experiences.
Faith is fuckin’ hard,
E
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