If pain’s a product, I’m the fcking CEO.*
They said,
“Don’t make a brand out of your breakdowns.”
Too late.
I’ve got a logo, a slogan, and a goat that knows my trauma timeline.
I used to be the unpaid intern of my own pain.
Now I’m upper management.
And business is booming.
Trauma used to just haunt me.
Now it pays me.
One click at a time.
You watch TikToks for laughs—I am the content your algorithm cries to.
Self-help books said,
“You can’t heal and hustle at the same time.”
I said,
“B*tch, I can cry, code, and cash out before lunch.”
This isn’t a pyramid scheme.
It’s a coping structure.
And it’s built from every system that tried to bury me in unpaid emotional labor.
You know what burnout taught me?
Merch margins.
You know what rock bottom taught me?
SEO optimization.
You know what my ex taught me?
Nothing—except how to trademark “Unf*ckwithable™.”
And before you judge,
remember:
They turned wellness into a subscription box.
They sold “self-care” as a scented candle.
They monetized your shame before you ever had a shot.
So I’m not selling out.
I’m just sending invoices to the pain that broke me
with a note that says:
“Pay up, b*tch. Healing isn’t free.”
This is reparations with a promo code.
Redemption with receipts.
Freedom with a f*cking affiliate link.
So yes—
Capitalism is my side hustle.
Recovery is the product.
And somewhere in the chaos,
I found the power to profit without apology.
Now excuse me while I post this trauma meme
and check my tip jar.
Unstable? Maybe. Unprofitable? Never.
Capitalism Is My Side Hustle Now
Pain got pricey. Tears got taxed.
So I built merch and funneled facts.
Therapy failed? I made a store.
Now healing costs just five bucks more.
Monetize? You bet I did.
Capitalism kissed this kid.
I pitch my past in sticker form—
Trauma’s trending. Welcome to the swarm.
—The Funny Phoenix, capitalism’s emotional consultant
