Lately, I’ve been coming to a very dark and confusing realization. I spent nearly a decade of my life surrounded by hustlers. I was shocked and appalled at myself for sinking so low…then I realized…I was one of them.
I had lived a life full of hustle – Real Estate tycoonery, epic “celeb” style partying all over the world bypassing lineups at clubs in LA, Las Vegas, San Francisco, New York, Vancouver, Montreal……wearing some of the latest fashions I had managed to hustle for “cheap” from a few personal shoppers I knew. Having personal assistants for my life and my job, living in the “it” neighbourhoods, driving baller cars and taking exotic vacations while somehow still managing to show up to work and get paid.
True, the most extreme of that hustle started to peter out some 5 years ago, when I started to realize that sleeping under my desk at work nursing the worlds worst hangover just couldn’t be done anymore.
On the outside I looked like I had it all hooked up, my friends always wanted to be around me, asked me how I did it, stated over and over again how lucky I was. I believed them. I wanted to believe them, I felt that losing this version of myself would be a total and utter disaster ~ even if I was alienating myself.
Fast forward to a little trip to the clink care of one of my “best” friends who pretty much slept with every man in my life other than my husband and my father ( I think)……as one of my few and close friends of today said back then “time to weed your friend garden”.
While losing this part of my life was really no loss at all, what I did feel that I lost at that time was my connection to who I thought I was, to my identity and even to my husband and friends.
Shaking that kind of deep confusion and pain off, can be quite an experience. I iced my “wake up” cake with a healthy dose of Yoga and one gigantic nervous breakdown.
Years later, in a place where I have come to understand most of my choices, or for the sake of my sanity have been able to shrug off what seemed just too nutso of me………… a little bit of the hustle managed to move and shake its way back into my life.
I realized in being confronted by the past, with the clarity of now, that all of those friends, loves, acquaintances in my closest circle were never there for anything but the hustle. A ride in a fancy car, a dinner party at an amazing house, yacht trips, flights, parties and someone to sit intently and listen to them moan over their life blowing up while doing bumps off of their house keys.
Stoned or sober, these are the people I spent years with. Never getting a word in edgewise and opening my doors for them to drink my Veuve, eat my Caviar and smoke cigarettes until the wee hours of the morning looking at one of the most stunning views of Vancouver from my balcony.
But you know something? I’m not angry. I am laughing at this. For this blog isn’t about them, it’s an ode to a wonderful and beautiful few that I will keep in my life forever. My sisters. Though not biologically so, these gals have occupied a long-term and solid place in my heart for decades. Some for nearly as long as I’ve been alive.
They are the people that know my middle name, my crazy Russian Uncle Alec, the epic battles I used to get into with my baby brother, taking LSD in the woods, hiking up amazing mountains, the scores of crazy boyfriends, the bands, the hangovers, the beach, the trips, the weddings, the laughter, the tears.
All these years they asked for nothing. Not for a penny, not for more than what was their share.
This post is an ode to you: Andria, Jenni, Kat, Helena, Kala…..and Willis, sorry brosef, you’re my bestie and I felt wrong leaving you out.
We may be worlds apart sometimes, and I may hate the shit out of girls 99% of the time…but you, my near and dearest have given me the greatest gift of life. Sisterhood. Your unconditional love, respect and heart I will cherish forever. You wipe away the crap of the past and have always helped me pave the way to a new, solid future.
Thank you for believing in me. I have always believed in you.