Burning My Life Down

I Want My Freedom

Rent is paid.

It was Friday at 5pm and I still didn’t have it. It was due by midnight.

I was having trouble breathing. I had chest pains. My hands swelled up.

I gave up and went to bed. I quit.

I randomly looked at my phone a few hours later.

There was a Venmo for the exact amount I needed.

First was relief. Then rage.

My survival, once again, was dependent on the kindness of another human.

(A person who has saved my ass more than once.)

I made the payment.

But my breath continued to get shorter. My chest got tighter. My hands tinged blue.

I can’t do this anymore.

If I survived the night, fine. If not, ok.

I woke up.

I was fucking pissed.

This is not a life I want.

It was 10am.

The weekly live stream with Stephanie Perry from ExodUS Summit Newsletter was on.

If you’re unfamiliar, Stephanie and Roshida help Black women get the fuck outta this country and live their best joyful, peaceful lives abroad.

I’ve followed them for years. And yet, I’m still here.

• I wanted a steady income.

• I wanted a financial safety net.

• I wanted to know I wouldn’t make my life worse.

The livestream was titled “I set my life on fire, here’s what grew back.”

Her video was full of bangers.

“I have absolved myself from allegiance to things that can not have an allegiance to me.”

Places, experiences, relationships…

“Reciprocity, baby. That’s what it looks like today.”

This country is killing me.

It hasn’t done shit for my human experience except extract, devalue and violate.

It did that to my Mom as well.

She died at 50 - stressed out, broke and miserable.

Now I’m 50 and on that same path.

As Stephanie said “you can’t fix what you don’t want.”

Hearing that made me realize that I have to burn everything down.

All this shit has to go.

As the video played, I made an impulsive decision to schedule an appointment at Carmax to sell my car.

The livestream ended at noon. I was there by 1pm.

If you know my history, then you understand how terrifying that decision was.

My car has been the most stable home I’ve had.

I’ve been homeless four time. What kept me off the street? My car.

I always knew that if shit went left, at least I’d have a place to sleep.

Carmax low balled the hell out of me.

I wasn’t expecting a lot but I didn’t even get that. They offered me half.

Fuck it, we move.

I sold the car.

My safety net (although an awful one) no longer exists.

While I didn’t get much, it’s enough to pay for my background check, rent an Airbnb with Klarna payments and buy a plane ticket. Listen, I’ll put that on Klarna too if they’ll let me.

If not, I’ll make it work anyway.

I am getting my little family out of here.

I have no idea how many years of life I have ahead of me.

What I do know is that if I stay here, they’ll be cut even shorter.

Whatever time I have left, I want it to be mine.

My life has never belonged to me.

It’s time.

My goal is to leave by August 1st.

That’s close. I don’t have time to bullshit.

Ways to help? Money. That’s it.

I can handle everything else. I can do this.

Venmo: @ divinerobin

Cashapp: $divinerobin

PayPal: practicecommunitycare@gmail.com

Black women, please don’t let this place make you feel stuck here.

Trust me, I understand.

The money isn’t there. You have people here. Insert any other reason…

But if you want to leave then, there is a way.

Watch the Exodus Summit videos. Join the membership (one-time fee of $1) and get in community with Black women only where you don’t have to explain your choices.

If I can do it with a paper thin bank balance, no steady income (it’s in the works), and two senior cats, then you can too.

Please live your best lives.

First, for yourself. Then, for the women in our lineage who never had the chance to.

Speaking of living your best life, Nico.

My boy has thrived.

I’ve been sent videos of him swimming in the lake, howling with his new pack and wearing the cutest damn fisherman hat. I know he’s doing well because he despised clothes when he was with me. But now, he feels safe, comfortable and happy.

That does my heart good.

Nico didn’t need medication or behavioral training.

He needed to be in the right place with the right people.

And, same.

My physical body needs to be in place that doesn’t despise my existence.

My nervous system needs to be around people I don’t have to protect myself from.

Nico, I am grateful as hell that you made it out, little one.

Now it’s my turn.