Equipped (Blog #1068)

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Currently it’s 8:15 PM. Tomorrow I have to get up super-duper early, so I’m hoping to keep this short. Not that I’m convinced I’ll be able to fall asleep by 10 PM, but I’m sure going to try.

By taking Benadryl.

Today I’ve been thinking about money. (I’ll explain.) Yesterday I mentioned that I devoted one of my recent EMDR sessions to money because the topic, and the actual thing, have historically made me squirm. Well, this afternoon I took some change to the bank to convert to cash, and damn if the automated machine in the lobby didn’t stop counting somewhere in the middle of all my change. The whole time still taking my money. “It says your total is $76.23,” the lady behind the counter said when I called her over.

“It really should be closer to $125,” I said, explaining the situation.

Well, the next thing I knew the branch manager got involved and said they’d have to audit the machine. Which they did over the course of–I don’t know–the next hour. “I need to go buy a mower for my parents,” I said. “I’ll be back.”

Then I added, “Before I go, can you break a twenty?”

Of course, they could.

The thing being that I needed two tens, well, one ten to pay for the mower, an item I found on Facebook earlier today as a replacement for my parents’ mower that seriously crapped out last summer. “Will you take five dollars less?” I asked the seller.

“Sure,” he said. And he even helped me load it.

When I got back to the bank, they still weren’t done with the audit. So I waited. Finally, they came up with the total: $123.50.

Before EMDR, both the situation at the bank and the thought of price dickering with the lawn mower seller would have made me twitchy nervous. But in both instances today, I was like, whatever, nobigdeal. At the bank I thought, This is inconvenient, but shit happens and they’re working on it. However it turns out, I’m going to be okay. When trying to bargain over the lawnmower, I just acted on instinct. “Offer five dollars less,” something inside me said. So I did, reasoning, If he says no, I’m willing to walk away. My therapist says this is absolutely necessary when buying and selling, a sense of non-urgency, an air of neutrality. Like, I don’t HAVE to have it. Then you can remain clearheaded and weigh your options.

For so long I was plagued by a feeling of loss and scarcity. Just weeks ago the thought of losing fifty dollars to a bank’s change machine or five dollars in a business deal would have sent the “there’s not enoughs” all over me. More and more I believe, really believe, that, as a former boss used to say, there’s more where that came from. That God and the universe may taketh away at times, but they also giveth in great supply. Over and over and over again. For example, even when I’ve been short on cash, I’ve never missed a meal for any reason other than my choice. Not once in thirty-nine years. And I know millions of people have.

Talk about counting your blessings.

One of my big revelations lately is that I have everything I need. By this I don’t mean that I have all the money in the world or that every physical ache or pain I have is under control. Rather, I mean that I have everything I need inside of me. To think on my feet. To figure things out. To provide for myself. To make it through this world with what I’ve been given. In terms of smarts, instincts, and inner and outer resources. This knowing is huge, that you’ve shown up on this planet with all you require. That you’ve come equipped with the wisdom to live and to survive, that you don’t have to find it in a book somewhere. Not that I’m against books. I’m all for learning. But a book can’t make you comfortable in your own skin or give you peace in your heart. A book can’t give you confidence. Only your Self do that.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t stuff down the truth—it always comes up.

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A Door Always Opens (Blog #893)

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Phew. What a day. This afternoon I mowed a lawn for a client, then did some other outdoor odd jobs for them. This was fine by me. I love the sun. In a good mood, a working mood, I then came home and began mowing my parents’ lawn. I say began because I only got the front yard finished. The mower kept dying. Then, while I was working in the back yard and trying to restart the mower, the ripcord broke. I pulled back with all my might, and the rope just went flying. Well hell, I thought. That’s it then. No more mowing tonight. So now the backyard is only–I don’t know–twenty percent done.

The tall grass doesn’t seem to care.

While I went to Walmart for a few things, my dad had a friend of his look at the mower. It turns out it was leaking oil (which I knew) due to a broken gasket (which I didn’t). And it needs a new air filter. And a new ripcord. When it rains, it pours. As I told my dad, “The more shit you own, the more you have to take care of.” Thankfully, it should be easy and affordable enough to get the mower fixed. And when we do–well–look out, tall grass in the back yard.

Your days are numbered.

At Walmart I bought D batteries for my Maglite flashlight, since I discovered recently that the batteries I had were corroded. Alas, when I got home and tried the new batteries, the flashlight still didn’t work. Maybe my beating the flashlight on the concrete and using vinegar and baking soda to get the old (stuck) batteries out screwed up something else (like the switch). Whatever, I’ll just add it to my list of things to futz with later. If all else fails and I REALLY want another Maglite, they sell them at Walmart. As one of my old bosses used to say when he ran out of money–there’s more where that came from.

Speaking of money, tonight after dinner I balanced my parents’ checkbook, which was off by–I don’t know–a couple dollars. And whereas it took about an hour to figure out what all was wrong, I did. Well, except for five cents. I couldn’t account for five cents. Anyway, my point isn’t to talk specifically about my parents’ checkbook. It’s to talk generally about money. My therapist says she has ice water running through her veins when it comes to finances. What she means is that she doesn’t get emotional about it. I’m getting there. Generally, I am there. Meaning I can deal with other people’s money (my parents’ checkbook) and not be emotional at all. It’s just a bunch of numbers. But MY money, well, that’s a different story.

At least it has been. I’ve written before about how stressful money can be for me, but I’ve noticed lately that it has less of a zing. I’m starting to see it as just a bunch of numbers. Today I quoted a job as an hourly rate. “You know I don’t like paying by the hour,” my potential client (whom I’ve known for a while) said. “Yes,” I said, “and that’s my price.” Now, I understood where this person was coming from–I get having a budget–so I estimated the number of hours it would take me. “It won’t be any more than this number,” I said. But my point is that in that moment I knew what I needed in order to not be resentful while working (what it would take for me to go to work and enjoy myself), so that’s what I quoted. And I honestly didn’t care if they accepted the offer or not. I knew that whether they “took or left it” I was still going to have a good day. More importantly, I knew I was going to be “all right.”

Something always comes along.

A door always opens.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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None of us is ever really lost. At least we're never really alone. For always there is someone to help point your ship in the right direction, someone who sees you when you can't see yourself.

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