Today I know
money will come. It will be for the
better and easier to know when it is my money from my labor that comes in. I woke up early (4AM) with a sort of
converging fear. I’ve been here
before. In order to do what I am doing
these few precious months I’ve had to slice work schedules. I am down to one job and a full load at
school. I feel myself clawing from the
inside out.
The other
day I sustained an unforeseen financial smack in the form of ANOTHER towed
car. Last spring I purchased a
Jeep. Much like the Jeep I had purchased
after I shrugged off an overly materialistic life and sold a Mercedes that kept
breaking down – sounds ridiculous right?
Even now I feel like that life was some misty vision. When I bought that Jeep it did something to
me. It gave me a sense of self one
cannot describe. It was purchased, paid
for, in good working order, and it was mine.
I loved that car – yes, I mean I loved the car, but I loved more what it
represented; freedom.
It became my
makeshift camper – I even made screens for the windows so I could sleep in it
or hang out and read in fresh air. It became my hauler – many a piece of
furniture got dragged off of someone’s lawn and pushed in its bay. The car had my back in the form of 4 wheel
drive. I got ‘stuck’ more than once, but 'unstuck' more than that. The car had my
heart at hello. So I found one last
spring for $600 (that runs!) but needs work.
Well, they were sealcoating in my development last week and she was
parked in the wrong place at the wrong time (much like her owner at many points
in my life) so ‘they’ (the proverbial
evil ‘they’ that represent suck bags everywhere) towed her. She had it coming, I knew she did. She a bad inspection sticker (I’ve been
trying to put $ together for exhaust system repairs), her plasti-dip body (my
kids run amuck), and she had been taking up space…the wrong space. So they towed her. My son called me while I was in class to let
me know as he discovered that she had vanished.
F*CK
$300 to get
her back (less than 24 hours later).
$300 I certainly didn’t have.
When I asked someone close for help in the form of ‘put this on your
credit card until Thur and I will give it right back,’ I was met with
negativity and abrasiveness. Noted.
My son
contacted (of all people) the ex-husband who has more $ than the Pharaoh King Tut
and within an hour all was taken care of.
Noted. I was touched when he endearingly
(for him) called to tell me he knew exactly what ‘those piece of shit’ cars
mean to me. He also said he understood
what I am currently trying to do (school) even though he doesn’t agree with it
(because I should’ve stayed married to him and I wouldn’t have needed anything
else in life…sigh) and he wanted me to know that he knows I am sitting in shit. Sitting.
I still know him better than anyone to understand what he means.
We all sit
in things; jobs, friendships, relationships, complacency, many times far longer
than we should. He was right and for
him, 2 out of 3 is a perfect score.
So help arrived in the strangest of vehicles. Help arrived in most gruff yet tender of
ways. To someone like him, $300 means very little; to someone like me $300 was a total ass-saver. I’ve never
been good with accepting help it is the hardest thing for me to do.
The next few
months will be like this – a bit less than one FT job – a full course load
where I am carrying 3 A’s and a fourth class that is so hard it could be the
wild card to wreck my GPA. Naysayers
lurk everywhere (even in the shadows of my mind). ‘You’ll have a hard time finding work’ well
that has yet to happen, it may not have always been the work I wanted but it
was work. Sometimes it had been work
without purpose, which can feel like toil, but there has been work. ‘You’ll never make any real money.’ Define real money? Honestly I’ve learned to live on so much less
and still be ok, I know anything above where I am currently will feel like a
lottery. If I couple that feeling with
actually doing something my soul believes in, I will be the richest woman in
the world – even if I wind up in a rented room somewhere, which I think sometimes
a rented room wouldn’t be half bad – especially if it had a fireplace. ‘You are older; this is stuff young kids do.’ That, my friends, is horseshit. I just met a student in her late 60s. And the mother of a friend of mine graduated at 83, because it was 'one of those things' for her. I get that. When I go in the box there will be instructions to throw that degree in with me.
I have to
keep going. I cannot let my mind be poisoned
by naysayers and negativity. I will not
believe the life I am in now is the life I shall remain in. That this story; my story, (with some of the
main characters as undesirable as tumors) is destined for anything other than
happiness. I have converging fear, but I
will keep moving forward. There is no logical reason all of this is working out, yet it is. God and the
universe have opened doors I didn’t even know where there. I have hard work on my side and when I fall
asleep sitting up at the dinner table (yes it happens) I have faith that
carries me to bed and wakes me up again.
I cannot and will not accept the easy way out. I came this far and I’m going to make it count. A diamond was just a piece of coal that stuck
around, under a hell of alot of pressure.
Last night, before class, a PhD came in to talk with us about our upcoming graduations
in the spring. She had brochures on
Masters Degrees. The dawn
in the next day? Maybe...
I need to remember, it is always
darkest before the dawn.
Goethe said: “the moment one
definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too.” Prov-i-dence (prov’i dens) n. 1.(often
cap.) The foreseeing care and Guidance
of God or nature.
The Universe rewards action. Keep going.
Namaste.
