<editorsnote> Nerds, meet my buddy Jessica. She and I met through this loverly site, and by her reaching out to me asking if she could write for us. Really rad chickie, she provided a lot of insight into my childhood for me (something you don’t get every day from someone!!) – andddddd she has quite the life story. Like did you know she moved cross country for love? ORRRR that she found out her ex cheated on her by reading it on Facebook? ANNNNDDDD she even married a guy she met off of Plenty of Fish! Yep, true story! This is life as told through her eyes, and through the keyword of the nerd. HIT IT JESSICA!!! </editorsnote>
Ok. Just a warning. I may or may not be sucking down a homemade daiquiri right now as I type this. Wait, I totally am. It’s peach and I made it with triple sec because I didn’t have any rum. I don’t know much about drinks, but it tastes fine to me. Very sweet. Who cares?
I had the kind of day where I decided I was going to have a drink when I came home, and literally mixed it before I ate dinner. In the door; alcohol is top priority. Granted, I worked 11 and a half hours today, and just got home. It isn’t like it’s 4:30; I have nothing to be ashamed of. I am also not a big drinker. If I was, I suppose I would have actually had rum in the house, instead of triple sec and brandy, which are two ingredients for a drink I wanted to mix once, and now I can’t even remember what it was. These bottles just sit on the top of my fridge, mocking my diet ginger ale.
So, yeah, I am stressed out. This time of year at work is rough. Typical. Nothing bad happened. You know what is really driving me insane? This thing with buying a house. We found a decent one, it’s a foreclosure, it’s going along ok…the contract is signed, and then I start looking for homeowner’s insurance, which you have to have to buy a house with a loan. So, it turns out owning a house is FREAKING EXPENSIVE. The mortgage is the just the beginning; then you have to pay for trash pick up and water and save money in case the water heater explodes. You have to get flood insurance and insect treatment and a termite bond. I am sitting here on Sunday just adding it up and suddenly, I just start melting. I mean, it just hits me like a ton of bricks. DOUBT.
Oh my god, what were you thinking???? YOU ARE NOT READY FOR THIS. You made the wrong choice; you can’t afford this, you are an idiot.
Intellectually, I know it’s the right choice. I know, even though it is scary, we have this moment right now, and we have to seize it. But in my gut, in the scared little animal part of my brain, I am definitely having second thoughts. I eat, but I am forcing it down. The stress has stolen my appetite. I am so focused on getting through this nightmare of red tape and requirements that my ADD brain just can’t handle other things, so I’ve stopped checking twitter and am barely participating in facebook. I haven’t been on google plus to build my profile pretty much at all, and I’ve stopped writing on my blog. It is just too much. The thought of handling this house thing AND paying attention to that other stuff just fills me with dread. If I just get through the next 20 days, I will be ok. I can do this.
Part of it is being afraid to commit, being afraid of debt, being afraid of owning so much. What am I supposed to think of all this? My parents almost lost their house in California this year. They just declared bankruptcy. How am I supposed to feel about establishing a place, a family…some kind of permanent stake somewhere? All this time I’ve sort of avoided taking the leap, hiding behind being young and broke and adventurous…and then I meet this man, and of all things, we get married, and then I get some itch to buy a house and then suddenly it’s all just happening. I’m participating in this system, this economy of expectations and risk, and I am putting down roots.
I am so sure, for once, that this is what I want. And doing it scares the hell out of me. Like, for the first time, I’m really sticking my neck out and committing to something I want—this whole life I’ve built bit by bit over the last year—and I’m saying it’s ok that I don’t know what’s going to happen. Forever, for as long as I can remember, deep down in my 5-year-old memories, I’ve had this sense of dread. If I want something, if I show something is important to me, someone takes it away. It gets ruined. The other shoe drops. So I have this pattern of dropping first—Yeah? So what if that might not work out? I didn’t care anyway. Didn’t matter. I dropped that passion before it walked out on me or no-showed at some crucial moment, or “just didn’t work out.”
I guess what I’m trying to say is, and this might be the alcohol talking, is that I am not walking away from this. I want something real and lasting and solid. I want to count on someone to be there. I want to have a home. I realize the risk, and it scares the hell out of me, but I am also just really, really…at the end of the day…I’m hopeful. I’m freaked out, but I’m optimistic. I’m anxious, but I also feel calm, because I finally decided to take the leap and settle down. It’s a paradox, that this fear could be healthy…but I have to say, I really think it is.
Oops. Glass is empty. Not good. Off to the kitchen….later, people!
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