My Happy Little Place

I really love this little place out in internet space that belongs to me – my creation, my small piece of something big that I made.

I admit that writing is a bit of a love/hate relationship for me.  I love the clearing that it makes in my mind when I dump out what swims around in there for days.  I feel like I can let it go because I found a place to put it.  I love the feeling, similar to putting pen to paper, of making a story that other people can experience.  I love that you can go to these places with me if I write them well enough.  I like what words can do when you put them all together.

But writing requires something difficult for me, at times.  It forces me to crawl inside my own head and sit there for a while.  Sometimes, when you go there, it’s tough to get back to bouncing a baby or talking with my son about what interests him.  There are places inside that I have to hit that I do a nice job at hiding away most of the time.  I’d like to say that I have nothing like that – no places that are sacred just to me – no dark corners.  I can’t say that.  They’re there and there’s no one in real life that I share them with.  Not really.  These are places that I sometimes don’t like much.  I mean, I made them, didn’t I?  I made them with my choices and my thoughts and my ponderings.

So, I come here to have these conversations with myself, and I make them public and invite anyone who happens along to participate as well.  Sometimes I avoid the conversations.  I leave for a while and go on with things in a very sunny way.  And don’t get me wrong, there are lots of sunny things in my world.  Lots of good to focus on.  But, when I need to have tough conversations – the ones that I can’t look someone in the eyes to have, the ones that I’d feel the need to apologize for unloading on someone else when they’re done – I can always come here.  And I like that.

The Green-Eyed Monster

I hesitate to even delve into this topic, this feeling that I want to deny – to banish – from my life and my thinking.  But it’s there.  It’s there too often.  It’s jealousy.

We’re struggling finacially.  Still.  This is going on over 2 years now.  And I don’t mean struggling, as in “Aw, we can’t buy any new clothes this month…or, we can’t go to the movies and out to dinner.”  No, those struggles would be somewhat bearable.  This past year, there were $30,000+ of our current household bills that went unpaid, about $15,000 was our house payment.  We have scraped and scrimped in all the ways I can think of.

My husband works countless hours trying to make miracles happen in a dead financial world.  He calls, he meets, he mails, he talks.  He’s brilliant.  Everyone says so.  No one that he works with can make sense of why it’s just not happening for him.  He gets so close with some and yet…the breakthrough hasn’t happened yet.  He goes through times of deep discouragement.  I want to make it all better for him, but I’m no good at giving false hope.  Out of my mouth it just sounds false.  Of course I believe in him and his ability to do whatever needs to be done.  It’s his clients that I have no hope in.  I can’t ever be sure that they’ll commit to a major…or even minor financial investment.  When things are going well, his business is an amazing one to be in.  When times are difficult, it is probably the toughest job to have.  Commission only.  That translates into doing all the research, putting all the time in, driving to all the meetings and getting paid nothing without the commitment from the client.

And then, just before Christmas, we got a little surprise.  I found out that I’m pregnant.  I will never, ever think that ever child is not a blessing and the biggest gift that we could ever get.  But this is not the timing I could have chosen.  I feel terrible that I haven’t gotten excited about this child.  I feel terrible when there are so many people out there who would give anything to get pregnant and have their own child.  And I can’t even get excited about this one – because of money.  Babies need things and I don’t know how we’ll get those things at this point.

So I’m jealous.  I’m so jealous that I could cry or spit or scream when I see someone who is doing well.  Someone who can treat their child.  Someone who isn’t worrying about money.  Someone who thinks “I don’t feel like cooking” and they don’t.  They buy food already prepared.  Someone whose house is fine, so they can go buy a pair of shoes.  Someone who can buy whatever they want at the grocery store.  Someone who doesn’t have to think for a second about the price of gas.  Someone who doesn’t get yellow slips stuck to their front door.  Someone who doesn’t have to jump every time the doorbell rings, wondering if your luck has finally run out.  Someone who doesn’t have to wonder about a time when you may have to say goodbye to it all.  So yeah, I’m jealous.  I think my family deserves more.

On Being 33

My intentions were to never go quite this long without a good brain dump, but this week has been a whirlwind.  My hard drive crashed.  Thankfully, I’m a faithful backer upper so no data will be lost.  But, I did have to take my little friend to the Apple Repair Shop for a hard drive replacement.  I’ll insert a sincere “thank you” to Apple for expecting their products to last more than a year or so and giving a 3 year warranty on the hardware.  Whenever they get around to the repairs, I won’t have to pay a thing.  *whew*  In the meantime, I’m hanging out with a replacement laptop that’s been good to me so far.

I turned 33 in April.  I’m no longer the youngest thing around.  If age is merely a feeling, then no one could tell me that I’m not still 21.  I feel great.  While some friends are fighting the affects of not taking care of themselves, I’m feeling pretty perky about the fact that I’m a bit insane about what I do and do not allow into my body.  I could stand improvement and a good gym membership again, but I really do feel good.

This simple, and sort of profound thought at the same time, hit me while I was on the toilet in dark a few weeks ago.  Yes, some of the deepest, most revealing thoughts do come whilst sitting on the toilet.  I was staring out my window looking at the bright moon in the sky and I realized that my thirties have brought a calmness that my twenties lacked.

I was watching “Sex and the City” (the movie) a few nights ago.  Samantha said, “Your twenties are for having fun and your thirties are for learning all the lessons that your twenties taught you.” I had to smile when she said that.  I did have a lot of fun in my twenties.  I was still in college when they began.  I was timid and scared, but smart and determined.  At 21, I got drunk for the first time and experienced what is so far my only hangover.  (Thankfully, I realize my limits quickly and respect them.)  At 22, I met the man who would later become my husband and I graduated college.  At 23, I got my first full-time teaching job and car.  At 24, I got married and bought a house.  In between working, I traveled and did what everyone throws out as advice before having children: “Enjoy your life and your freedom, because when you have a child, it all changes.”  I got fit and learned how to take care of me.  At 29, just before my 20’s drew to a close, I built my dream house, became teacher of the year and got pregnant.  I also experienced my share of tough times and heartaches.

Indeed the calmness has settled on me.  All the discoveries and new experiences that left me wide-eyed and a little anxious (in the nervous sense) about life now feel like a well-worn jacket. I’ve learned how to speak my mind.  I know who I am.  There’s a sense of relief that comes with settling into your own skin.  Confrontation will never be comfortable, but it’s nice to know that I can go there when I need it.  I’ve found my words and lost a bit of my smile.  Perhaps that’s from knowing that, at any time, I could lose something that I hold dear.  And, it’s from a new self-confidence that tells me that I don’t have to please everyone, all the time.  Sometimes I can just please me…and that’s ok.

In coming into and going out of a million conversations and situations, I finally feel like everything’s going to be ok.  Still looking around my house, I can get pangs of sadness that I may lose all this, but deep inside I know, one way or another, it’s going to be ok.  That’s worth more than having anything that money can buy.