What a Difference a Day Makes

It’s crazy what a difference a day makes. Two or three weeks ago, I made a financial decision that I sort of thought was ok to make at the time. For the first time in a while I was feeling kinda solvent. Or solvent-adjacent at least. Like the potential for solvency was just within my reach. It was the kind of financial decision that spans over a few months and takes a bit of dedicated attention. I felt almost ok with going with it, and decided to err on the side of bravery. Because I have this thing where I am trying to be bolder. Living bolder. Eking out an existence that I can look back on and smile about. It’s hard work. It’s hell on my anxiety issues. But it’s worth it.

And then in a day it all came crashing down. Because what a difference a day makes. Suddenly our rent went up again (seriously: how on earth is anyone supposed to handle a yearly 10% rental increase? Our rent is double what it was when we moved in already! Our salaries have definitely not doubled!) and for March our grocery budget is now half of what is usually is because in addition to the increased rent, overtime on Ty’s part usually kind of makes up the “can we or can we not eat this month” portion of our lives and last month his overtime was a little on the low side. And then our bedroom TV died, which is not that huge a deal except it kind of is because I escape to my room a lot and kind of just do things with the TV on in the background and I find it soothing and it keeps me sane. But it’s dead now. Replacing it is definitely not an option.

So, while two weeks ago, these little glitches would have felt surmountable, this week they did not. 

And then the bloody cat had to go back to the vet!

At the end of a highly emotional week the cat at the vet kind of broke me. Because we’ve been here before. “Hi. Your cat is fucked. I’ve got to run and save him. Probably that will be four grand please.”

And there I am going…I don’t even have four grand between my credit cards, nevermind in my bank account. And yeah, it’s only the beginning of March but Feb’s salary is gone already. My fault. My bad management/calculations.

My leap of faith has landed me in poo…

So, after a couple of days where I’ve been thinking about the actual faith thing a little more than usual (like the life-changing faith thing not the hope-for-the-best faith thing which keeps failing me) I did something I haven’t done in a long time.

I prayed.

And it wasn’t a weird thing.  Like when you sort of feel like you’re acting out your own drama in a movie. It’s was kind of subtle, and even calm.

It was something like, ok this is more than I can handle right now. I’m not in the right headspace. My head is in agony. My anxiety is in overdrive. My damn period is trying to kill me (do other girls get that thing where every fourth or so cycle feels like your uterus is being stomped by elephants?) and my freaking TV argh! and I’m trying to sanely juggle other folks crap while also trying to figure out how to deal with my own. It’s not working. So you’re going to have to take this one because I have no badass left.

24 hours later an anonymous donor had covered a little over a third of my vet bill quote. And when I went to pick up my cat I discovered that the actual bill was half of what they had originally quoted me. I am humbled. Overwhelmed. And impossibly grateful.

And I cannot stop marvelling at that. How could one day feel so impossibly overwhelming, so tear-inducing (and man were there tears) and so how-much-more-am-I-expected-to-take-this-week and the next day feel kind of floaty and fine? Burnt out enough to take a five hour nap, but still ok.

When my anxiety is really bad I like to remind myself that yes I feel bad now, but tomorrow will be better. Every single time. It’s a constant pep talk with myself. It’s not real. You’re fine. Yes, your heart wants to jump out of your throat. But you are safe. Breathe. Meditate. Sleep if you can. Cry if you have to. Tomorrow will be better. Even though the feeling doesn’t go away, the self-talk helps to cope with the feeling. To isolate it. To separate it from my actual self instead of allowing it to define myself.

I see that perhaps I need to learn to do this with the things that are real as well. Whether it be a fight with my husband (my Lord nothing makes me want to jump from the windows of skyscrapers as much as those fights do!) or being blindsided by unforeseen expenses that seem impossible to overcome.

Breathe. Tomorrow will be better.

Because what a difference a day makes.

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