I’m scared. I’m out of money, and haven’t had any luck on the job hunt yet. This is pretty much the bajillionth time I’ve been in this position, or similar ones. I talked about the whole learning lessons from life theory last post, and even mentioned that we will encounter the same situations or events if we’re being dense. Well—duuurrrrrrrr.
I grew up mostly poor living with my mom and sister. Like, super poor. Coasting down hills because we didn’t have any money for gas, avoiding the bill-filled mailbox, rolling TP instead of using tampons, P-O-O-R. She was an amazing mother, and she still found ways for us to do any activity we so much as mentioned an interest in, but we had some really hard times.
Money was always the topic. I remember her sitting with a notepad, working on the budget constantly, like it might balance if she tried one more time. She worked SO hard, and did everything that she could, but it just never worked out. Shit just kept fucking happening.
After a very difficult summer she had a relapse with alcohol. She wound up getting fired from her job as a result. That night I got a panicked feeling and I threw all of the alcohol into the woods behind our house. I just felt to my core that something awful was going to happen, it was terrifying.
She was very calm about my booze-throwing, and very calm in the morning. That evening I was at freaking cheerleading practice of all places when I saw a cop and a woman walking towards the group. I started bawling immediately.
It was another hour before they got my sister and I to the police station to tell us at the same time, I think she also knew before they told us. Our mother had hung herself. Fuck, it’s been fifteen years and I still can’t even type those words without crying.
Someone else found her, she ensured there was no way that we could have. Even in her desperate last moments, she still was thinking of us. She frequently said that we were the only things that kept her going. I still have a lot of guilt for things I could have done better, words I could have expressed, anything I could have done to make it not happen.
But it fucking happened, life was too hard and she just couldn’t do it anymore. And although I’d never consider leaving life, I am sooo much like her. The things I love about myself; I’m kind, caring, loving, spiritual, creative, and love to laugh. I also am deeply sensitive, often about things that have nothing to with me-like TV violence. When I love, I love with my whole entire self and it feels like the other person is part of me. Tendencies to place our self-worth in the scrutiny of others, primarily the negative; ignoring the positive reviews. Having troubles at this whole money career thing. Regardless of being intelligent talented women, we just totally suck(ed) at it.
A few years after it all happened we were living with my dad, who had plenty of money. I had this shitty little futon bed that drove me crazy. I mentioned it to my sister, who told our dad. He immediately got me a proper bed and was hurt that I felt like I couldn’t ask him. I just couldn’t, and still can’t, wrap my mind around the idea that there can be enough money. That needing something new wouldn’t stress him out to no end. To the end.
I think I still think that way, and so I am right. Thoughts are things. There isn’t enough money. Money=stress. Fuck money. Successful people are better than me, I don’t belong. The kind of life I want is unrealistic. I don’t deserve it, I’m not good enough.
I know these things aren’t true, and that they are very damaging to the life that I am attracting and creating, but there they are. Just under the surface. Usually not even thoughts, as I’ve trained myself well. But deep-seated beliefs that I am trying so hard to weaken, but really struggling.
Uuugh. I had just calmed down about my mom, and started crying hard again when typing those harmful beliefs I’m trying to shake. I think that might be the first time I’ve really acknowledged them. Maybe it’s a start?