I have a secret. I carried a balance on my credit cards last month. Almost $10,000 (it is more than that now). I did it on purpose because I knew that I would be able to pay them off now. I just got my last annuity check. Every month since I turned 18 I have received a check for $1,200 every month completely tax free. I was attacked by a pit bull when I was a child and my friend’s father represented me. I think he did a fabulous job of handling my settlement. On my 30th birthday the payments end with a $36,200 check. (Last monthly payment + $35,000 pay off.) I’m so thrilled about how much cash I have in my bank account that I’d kind of like to take a screen shot and frame this. Before the credit card payments go out this month I will hit $50,000 in cash for about a day.
I’ve been talking to Sarah about this a lot. I’m not sure if someone who grew up in a safe, secure home can understand the kind of elation I feel right now. This is so much safety and security. It’s freedom. If I was truly feeling like I could not handle my life right now I could bail. I’m not going to. But right this minute I have all the means I need to disappear if I want to. I don’t want to. I choose to be here. This is what I want. That’s a weird feeling. I am not a victim of anything in my life because I choose it.
Right now I’m having a lot of strong mood swings. I’m doing a lot of hiding from the kids. As a result the kids are extra-super-clingy. Which cycles my moods faster. It’s really nice to have this money appear right now to smack me in the face right now that I really and truly want to be here. Even with the things I miss about going out. Even though I miss friends and communities… I can never get this time back. I really want to be here with my kids.
I’m struggling with the fact that I will no longer be supplying $14,400/year to the household. I am, in fact, increasing how much I take out of the pool because I am going to do less work (hiring a maid) instead of working more and contributing money as well. It’s hard to feel like I have enough worth to be in this position. I find it rather odd to be trying to live more according to Noah’s principles than mine. You see, I didn’t grow up with intellectuals. I grew up with stupid, uneducated people. Not all stupid people are uneducated and not all uneducated people are stupid. But my family is both. The idea that any mental work I am doing has value? That’s odd. If I have not done substantial physical labor I feel guilty all day. I’m not supposed to rest. People like me have to earn rest and there is no chance I have worked enough lately. I’ve been lazy all week! Well, sorta. This is all vague.
Noah believes that me reading, improving myself as a person, writing, and interacting with other adults in intellectual ways are actual priorities. He wants there to be time in my life for these things. He does not think I should be working all the time. It’s weird. Those are not pastimes I was raised to appreciate. I have always done them, but it was furtive and hidden. Shameful. My secret life. But what if it isn’t a secret? What if I get to sit out here in my personal Wonderland and write. What if that is totally ok? How about if I learn how to write while sober so that the kids can wander in and out so they don’t feel cut off from me? Enh, that may be a stretch. Hm. I should think about scheduling. The problem is that I don’t generally smoke on a regular schedule so I have ebbs and flows of how effective it is. This is why I’m thinking about scheduling things. I can’t believe I am thinking about scheduling my life so I can be a more effective stoner.
I’m weird, Sir.