Being poor, the gift that keeps on giving...

My mom asked me to compile a Birthday/Christmas wish list the other day. Given that I have been for months now, constantly with calculator in tow to the grocery store, not even dreaming about purchasing something off the list, let alone something just for pleasure, my reaction was much different that I thought it would be. I figured I would be chomping at the bit to have a little bit of luxury. Something I just "wanted," not "needed." A treat, something that made me feel good about myself and how hard I've worked.

Initially, I was. I became gradually more and more excited, listing the links to articles of clothing or make up that I had been longing to treat myself too. This was unprecedentedly followed by stress. The stress of wanting to choose all the right things because God only knows when such an opportunity would arise again where I could receive something special without feeling guilty or like the other person shouldn't have. To be honest, even compiling a list felt gluttonous. All of the thoughts started evolving in my head and I started processing...I was giving all of these items so much importance, but really, what were they going to do for me?

In most cases, saying I am currently "going without" a few things might be an exaggeration in comparison to what other people in the world endure. Although for myself and what I have been accustomed to, (what most people are accustomed to, I would imagine) I am struggling. Technically I have nothing more than a small amount in investments and a Roth IRA, a car that is almost mine, a lap top that is almost mine, and some quarters in my laundry cup. The stress of managing can be exhausting. However, when given the chance to be the recipient of a few lovely but unnecessary items I started to feel panic to make sure I chose wisely, knowing I could not currently provide even small luxuries for myself. But then I realized how unimportant these "things" were. That I have changed. That I don't need them. That I've seen another side. And while I would love to live more comfortably and with less financial stress, I hope not to lose my connection to real experiences that cannot be bought...or worn. That I never forget what I have seen when there was nothing blocking my line of vision. All of the beautiful days I've had and will remember that cost nothing but meant everything. No new outfit or pair of shoes can do that...

I am working toward changing my financial future little by little but in the meantime, I am thankful for what I have gotten abundantly in return...appreciation and thankfulness... for what I do have. It is amazing, that when given the choice, it is the experiences, the memories, the feelings and emotions you have during them that matter so much more and last so much longer than "things." I am healthy, I am safe, I have a family and people that love me in my life. I am blessed. Christmas came early.

PSA: Respect The Young Folk

I will never understand how as people get older and multiply, they lose their social awareness of how obnoxious they are. If I am somewhere alone, I am probably not making any noise, hence I don’t want to hear talking, and chances are, I have deliberately positioned myself so I would be in a place where there is no talking. I am not referring to public transportation or bustling restaurants. I am talking about at the park or at the beach or any other communal place with more than enough room to spread out. So why is it that after I have staked out a specifically wide-open and vacant spot to relax, you and your brood of six with three under five years of age, choose to set up camp literally inches from me? Pay no mind to the fact that I am trying to enjoy my 84 degrees and sunny day with a book outside. Is a book not a non-verbal cue that I would like to enjoy the QUIET? 

I don’t want to hear you call each of your children’s names 7 times in a row as opposed to getting your lazy ass up to get them. I have no interest in having a brief heart attack every time your ADHD nine-year-old catapults himself into a flip inches from my face. I don’t want to know why your kid doesn’t like celery or why you feel inclined to go through every vegetable to surmise which ones he does. I can live without involuntarily overhearing you explain ROTFL to your mother or be embarrassed for you in leu of your ridiculous conversations with your dog. That is annoying. If I can get off the phone when I check out of Trader Joe’s you can zip it or move it. If I can watch my language when children are present, you can check your volume and location in respect to me. Unless you are Dane Cook and you want to put on a personal comedy show for me, I don’t want to hear you. Have some respect people, you chose to have kids, I did not. And perhaps you should get your eyes checked with respect to the signs of dementia and lacking of appropriate spacial proximity. 

I think we’ve got respecting the elderly down pat, how about respecting the young adults? We are young, broke and fabulous, angsty as ever, and we don’t need your constant babble interrupting our deliberate choice for solitude. We have no time for being subjected to an audio visual of your life. We have bigger fish to fry, like mauling over once more who we are and what the hell we are doing. 

To be or not to be...

What is the function of anxiety? I imagine it is supposed to ignite some sort of cautionary response, fight or flight, do or don't. But what if there is nothing you can do? Right now, anyway.

My emotions have self diagnosed multiple personality disorder. Part of me- well most of me...thanks to genetics... feels like if I don't engage in time worrying, I am not working toward changing the problem or finding a solution. Like a constant brainstorm is what it will take to figure it all out. And thinking about it constantly will manifest the problem into something tangible I can morph in my hands like clay. Clearly this is not a proven method but I seem to be addicted to it.

The other part of me- much smaller, but scrappy- doesn't get it. The world is her oyster. (I'll talk about her in 3rd person because, although I like her, I don't know her that well...) She wants to know why anyone would waste time being miserable. There is time for that later. Carpe Diem!

Both sides make some degree of sense and I suppose would not be able to exist without the other. Despite my compulsive anxiety, every now and again I feel a sense of ease (slightly short lived, but present.) I imagine it comes from the realization that "I've come this far..." fill in the blank. My go-to is "and you're still making it...." or "and the world didn't blow up." Slowly but surely my tunnel vision on what life should look like is widening. At this point I don't even pray for consistency or solidarity, how about just some movement? All options are game. I assume it will all come to me when the time is right. Either something will happen or it won't and I'll reevaluate from there. Right?! Many people I've talked to think I am crazy for anticipating more action, and that it is still too soon to panic. (Ahhh panicking...another well practiced skill of mine...) As far as panicking goes I always assumed it was better sooner than later...keeps you on your toes...

To everything there is a season! So maybe it is time to let my neuroticism and perpetual anxiety take the back seat. There doesn't seem to be any proof in that pudding. Although I don't think I could ever totally avoid it, I can consciously choose to play the part I asked for. Maybe it is true. Maybe you do find what you are looking for as soon as you stop trying to find it. Now is the time I have to try to enjoy the cards I have been dealt. This dealer is no random figure and these cards were no coincidence. They were given to me for a reason.

What Would an Adventurous Gypsy Do?

Not feel sorry for herself, I can tell you that...

I made my big scary move...and now I'm here. Waiting. Waiting for it all to start. I certainly didn't think I would jump right in to a fully functional adventure...however, this does not dissuade my eagerness for some purpose. I am in life limbo and attempting to enjoy it like they say you are supposed to. Of course that never really works, does it.

My excitement and vigor is as volatile as teenage hormones. I enjoy the good things for as long as they feel enjoyable. And then I get bored. What else, what else? An Adventurous gypsy would think outside the box. She would make her own adventure. It is this realization that reminds me that I am trying very hard to play a part that wasn't originally assigned to me. But I want it, so I'm getting into character.

If all else fails, I work out, and then I clean. Thank goodness for busy work. As much as it has cultivated a large amount of disdain for EVER being a stay at home mom, it is keeping me...useful. As I am a welcomed guest in a very not-mine apartment. I have a very sweet boyfriend who speaks in inclusionary statements, lots of "we" and "our." That takes a large amount of the edge off but doesn't change the facts.

This adventurous gypsy needs some purpose, a good story and a better, more flexible attitude. Although I knew the adjustment to my new "normal" would be slow, I can't help but think I am missing out on an opportunity to make the most of it as it can at times feel so "less than." No more. An adventurous gypsy doesn't wallow or whine, she changes things. And she drinks a glass of Syrah while doing it.

A kick in the stomach...the good kind

They say you should do the thing that scares you. Supposedly that is when you reap the greatest rewards. So I did. 

I am a gal of familiarity. If it were a drug, I would OD on it. I love knowing what to expect. Unknowns are no good. Obviously this is something that no one could ever avoid entirely. Trying new restaurants, fun. Going to new places, great. Meeting new people...ehhh, it's alright. Picking up and moving to a different state, without a job, an apartment, a sense of regularity, the comfort of ummm... well... anything familiar really, instant nausea followed by panic. 

Despite this, I started to realize my "regular" didn't fit anymore. I felt like the winner of The Biggest Loser who was still trying to wear the same, oversized, ill fitting garments. Unlike dramatic weight loss, I was changed on the inside and refusing to change anything on the outside. I started to think about what I could be missing out on. I felt envious of people like my sister who really lived life. Sometimes recklessly, regardless, she was getting everything she wanted out of it and wasn't afraid to push for more or go a different way. She wasn't afraid, period. And here I was spending all of this time being afraid...of being afraid. Afraid of potentially making a choice that would put me in a spot of uncertainty...or realizing that I shouldn't have made it at all...or failing. 

It took me long enough, but I decided I had to start living out my facebook statuses and toasts made on New Years and friend's birthdays, "If not now, when?" "Life, as it should be." There had to be more for me and I absolutely could not waste another minute stagnant in "normal." Potential failure didn't stop anyone else, why not me. I'll figure it out, make it work, make it happen. No more "one-size-fits-all life." F you failure. You don't scare me. 

and then she started living...her fabulous life

Rather than hoping for better, I've stopped having expectations out of my life. Rigid ones anyway. It seems it only becomes worth living when you stop letting it disappoint you by placing standards and guidelines that you couldn't possibly control. When you finally give up, relinquish control and let the adventure unfold, it becomes fabulous.

Fabulous can mean a lot of things but for me it meant allowing the good things to feel good. Anything. If it felt good, I would bask in it. It didn't matter what it was or what it meant or if it was on time or enough. Just taking it all in. And for people, it meant taking time to figure out who I was first...and then seeing how everyone else fits into my world. Taking a break from trying to fit into theirs. Or any other crazy prediction of a life I believed I should be living. Doing this feels like breathing when this whole entire time I was sucking through a stir stick at Coffee Bean, trying so hard to get more.