The Life-Changing Magic of Losing All of Your Shit

Real-life, real-time life lessons from a Post-Covid Loser

Photo by Renee Buller on Unsplash.

There are people, places, things, and hell, even states of mind and heart I’ve tried to hold on to for eternity which may explain why I became a proprietress and peddler of the past.

An antique dealer. A curator and collector of relics. A vintage bon vivant.

Thirty-some-odd years, countless hours, and 9,000 sq. ft. of warehouse— bulging at the seams from miles and miles of foraging and gathering—hauled, homed, and, at last, artfully staged in total.

I would fight for everything and all of it and more, yet go on to lose epically after my Post-Covid eviction.

And the landlord’s Post-Covid opportunity and avarice would rage on until he not only swallowed my livelihood but ultimately everything I owned there—family heirlooms and lifetimes of memories included.

Shit Happens. Everything Changes. And nothing will ever be the same.

Amen.

I am so fucked.

Why is this happening TO ME?

I want to die.

And I do, sort of.