I have been stressed lately, guys. As I’m sure you can imagine, not having your own house is stressful. No matter what you do or how good your living situation is, it isn’t your own house. We are looking at another 6 months and our house should be completed. It’s hard to live bare bones, with most your stuff in storage. It’s hard to have your life and friends and kid’s school one place, and you living in another.
The old anxiety trigger of money has been rearing it’s nasty head these past few weeks. According to my therapist, and she is always right, I like to live in the extremes. Extreme dieting, where its balls to the wall or I’ve fallen off the wagon. And in this case, the extreme of feeling like we have to save every fucking dollar we make to prepare for the new house, competing with the fact that we still have to live and that isn’t possible. We know where we need to be when we move and we are on track. Yet here I am, still feeling guilty for feeling the freedom of not having a mortgage currently. We aren’t freeloading at our current place so don’t look at me like that- we help out with bills but it still isn’t a mortgage. I felt guilty about our impromptu vacay to the Aquarium a few weeks ago. My internal dialogue goes something like this:
Anxiety me: but lady, you don’t have time to be going on vacation with this new house and the big mortgage coming up next year.
Rational me: but we still have to live right? We have to have fun and take a break from the hustle of our busy life.
Anxiety: you bought something on Amazon again. Tsk Tsk. You aren’t being responsible.
Rational me struggles with this part. In my head I go “well shit, maybe that bitch is right. Then I use Dading as my sounding board, the poor bastard.
It’s been a week, ya’ll. Everyone I talk to, including my therapist, tells me to chill the fuck out. That it will be ok, that we would never feel ready to take on a mortgage on a bigger house. And I hear that, because we thought we couldn’t afford our last house and it was fine. I feel so guilty, and like such a POS for buying anything, for going out when we said we weren’t going to go out at all to save money.
Life gets in the way of your best laid plans, I guess. I wish I could believe that we are on track and doing ok. And not to be freaked out about having a mortgage again next year when we close on this house.
When do I stop feeling like a reckless kid and start feeling like the responsible fucking adult that I am? Why am I so hard on myself? These are the things that have been weighing on my mind, and I am trying really hard to figure out how to believe in myself and us, and that things will be ok because we ARE responsible and doing what’s best for our family. #2020Goals maybe?