It is 10:02 pm, and I promise I’m going to be settling into sleep by… midnight… And so I have two hours to write/type, edit, re-read, question, add a picture and the copyright if I want to.
Tomorrow I get to go to the airport and sit and work for a few hours (assuming I sleep well and wake up early) before I meet Jarrod for lunch and we get to spend the day together.
[Edit: I did not, it turned out. I cannot remember what happened, but I didn’t follow that plan.]
It’s been a pretty good day. We had lunch and I got to listen to his thoughts (I like getting that chance. To have a glimpse into his mind.) Then met a lady to talk about insurance, and after more chatting, we went to eat yummy Korean fried chicken. More chats, more laughs, and we lost our minds because of exhaustion.
I said “more tireder” and stuck with it, as we cringed and made more jokes.
It’s nice to journal a calm happy day.
*~*~*
So what am I doing wanting to get on my blog?
I was wondering, since I posted the lessons I learned on during my “financial freedom” day, if I was just being ungrateful.
I’m listening to Build the Life You Want: The Art and Science of Getting Happier by Arthur C. Brooks and Oprah Winfrey (yes, the Oprah), and I’m on the chapter on gratitude.
The science of it — I’m probably in the middle of the chapter and paraphrasing it inaccurately/incompletely — is that there is finite space in our brains/minds to hold thoughts and emotions. So if we focus on gratitude, there is less space for anger or fear or other emotions that may not be helpful in the moment. And by thinking of what we are grateful for, we activate the prefrontal cortex, which pulls us out of the limbic system, so we’re less reflex/automatic in our response, and more in our complex, active, choice-led system, allowing us to decide who we are and how our values shape the actions we now want to take.
(again, i might be remembering parts of that wrong. go read the book.)
And I starting thinking about the day I spent soo much money, and didn’t feel a thing.
I wasn’t grateful that I could just pivot to the next nearest emptiest cafe without having to keep walking and wandering around.
I wasn’t grateful I could treat my friend to a cake and a drink, and get myself a (really huge) fish and chips and a yummy flavoured (mango and mint?) soda without stressing about the bill.
I haven’t been grateful that I’ve had days — days — when I didn’t work, and didn’t worry about work, and could spend my time with friends and family and my boyfriend, and to sleep and rest and do laundry and clean and stretch.
I’m only starting to feel grateful that I could enjoy an exhibition of flowers and art and information and history with a friend who would also enjoy it.
I’m only starting to wonder that I could treat both her and my boyfriend to food we all enjoyed. That pork belly was crispy, and the beef was omnomnomnomnom, and there was sweet and sour something (pork?) and fried rice that i could break the no-prawn rule for. The place was quiet and clean and pretty and spacious and air-conditioned. We got to see the casino.
My friend has been treating me to food and drink and experiences for years because she’s had more money than I had.
I haven’t been grateful that I could give her a treat this time, to pay her back.
And to have my boyfriend in on the treat?
Hello? Girl? Have you completely lost it? I mean, I know your memory is like spaghetti, but the people who have been good to you — you were able to do something nice for them!!
How am I not grateful??
Did you actually think, for a second, that this was a normal day?? (yeah, well, I–) Oh you shut up–you know this was not a normal day. (…) Okay, fine, not “shut up”, but come on. Babygirl, this… this could be a normal day, but right now, it was a blip. A really good blip. And maybe, maybe, we could… you know, do the work so this actually is a normal day?
Like… it was “normal” in the sense that we were just hangin’ out and eating with friends. It was also special because we went somewhere a little outside the ordinary.
It’s like going to Yardbird. And having wagyu steak. With people who know how it’s supposed to be cooked and therefore will get it done right so it’s not a wasted experience. It’s normal and special.
And if you want more ordinary-awesome days like that, we’ll need the resources babygirl.
*~*~*
I think it’s because I’m no longer seeing what things cost.
Because I’m just paying with the tap of a card, I don’t see or feel the money flow — now I’m focussed on geting things and experiences that will put a smile on my boyfriend’s face. Now I’m focussed on my cravings and wants. Now I’m focussed on wanting to get home whatever the cost of the ride.
I don’t see that it’s all money.
Income makes no difference to me because it’s a silent increase to the total number. Spending makes no change because the decrease is invisible unless I open up an app to track.
It used to be easier with cash, because I could see the notes moving in and out of my wallet, what I was spending, and what I had left.
You could ask me how much I spent today and what I have left, and I have no clue.
Did I even spend money today??
Lunch? I think. Drinks on Sayang, dinner was… our joint account? And I have no clue how much that was. Travel, definitely. We took the train.
$10? $20? $30? I don’t know.
*~*~*
Talking to the insurance lady (just so happens she’s whatsapping. it’s 11:01 pm), she guided me to think about money, large sums of money, in a more meaningful way.
I’ve done the “think about retirement, how much will you need to have?” thing before. Doesn’t really affect me. (Do i have no emotions? cos the “think about your funeral and your eulogy” thing doesn’t work on me either…)
She asked how much I’d want to give my parents every month. Then multiplied it by 12 months to get one year, and then multiplied it by the number of years from now till life expectancy.
The total number was big, but it made sense to me.
She also asked how long I’d want to support my future kid (if i had one) and when I said 20, 21, she multiplied $1,500 by that number. A kid takes $350,000 to $400,000. Just to survive.
Money needs meaning.
Right now it’s just a store of value.
*~*~*
I gave myself a shove in a previous post…
you do have dreams, and you do have desires.
You think you don’t, because it’s easier to convince yourself that you have none, than to face the big, scary land that you do, and that it takes hard work, hard thinking, and a whole lot of mistakes, and that you might need to judge yourself and find that you fall short.
And you hate how falling short makes you feel.
And insurance lady (her name is Wai Yan) mirrored Jarrod in saying, “You just need to focus on one thing, for one year”.
I’m just being an Enneagram 7 and avoiding the pain (if Sayang reads this and goes, “no shit”, hi.)
…
I get to choose one thing. For one year. And to do it properly.
When you choose to become good at what you do, the money flows.
I write and I write and I write so much about my dreams, and tomorrow when I wake up I completely forget about them.
Then I go a looong way round just to come back and go “oh, I’ve been here before”.
Am I ready to say, “hey, i know what you want out of me, but it’s not in my alignment and I no longer want to give a *beep*?”
In politer (oh god. goddess. divinity. facepalm.) In words more polite, of course.
Am I ready to go, “this is what I want, and for one year, one complete cycle of the Earth around the Sun, I’m going to give it my best go?”
Am I willing to look at myself and say, “I am going to fuck up so badly, and disappoint myself, and want to run away, and want to hide, and be embarrassed and ashamed and scared and vulnerable, and mess up even when I really try, and not meet the goals i think i’m gonna meet, and it might be the happiest pain and torment i have ever put myself through and after one year i might not want it any more or realise i like it but i’m not making money or decide to not continue, or worse, actually want to do this…” and do this?
An (un)helpful little snake inside me sssneaks up and ssssaysss, quietly, “coward.”
I owe it to me to go do the one thing I feel like I’m put on Earth to do.
I do it for all the little things. The little hops and dances and sounds I do every day. I’ve built immunity one stranger’s stare at a time.
But me? Point my own finger at my own face, and say “yes” instead of “no”? That’s new to me.
The little snake goesss “cow… ard… Moooo”. Didn’t know snakes could moo.
I know what it feels like to support everyone else’s dream. Been doing it my whole life. I even thought it was my thing, supporting people.
But I think, slowly, I’m getting sick of it. I don’t want to do it. Slowly, I’m starting to see how people can either support me, or get out of my way.
Ssstrange.
11:57 pm. Time to wrap this.
💖🌧️
Image of yellow and white scales (snake skin)
by Vandy Louw from Pixabay
