There is something about turning 36 that feels different then turning anything prior to this. Maybe it’s because I’m now mom to a little monkey man who I must keep alive and nurture and support. The one thing I have the chance to do right in all the world is raise an emotionally healthy kid. I’m trying.
The money thing is getting old. By “the money thing,” I mean working a job that pays enough to provide the potential to maybe be able to afford a life that meets the expectations I’ve set for myself and my family.
You know, I thought when I saved $1M I’d feel some sort of–something. It’s a major milestone and I’m there, give or take, by end of this year. Yet, there’s just this emptiness. It isn’t enough to provide financial security, so it is really meaningless. But it’s also so much more than what most people have, so I also have guilt multiple by every dollar I’ve saved. My privilege made this all possible, and I don’t deserve any of it.
I really don’t know what I want–and it doesn’t matter any more. I want so much and so little. I want to pause time, revert time, swallow time whole, but of course, that’s not possible. It keeps ticking on and it always will. My saving grace will be giving up wanting anything at all. To silence my mind from spinning up a thousand scenarios and just see what’s good right in front of me, in the moment, that often doesn’t cost a damn cent.