After 5 months of absolutely no income other than proceeds from selling our personal belongings or borrowing from our daughter, my husband finally got a paycheck! He has been working about 1000 miles North of us since mid February. This paycheck came just in the nick of time. We were down to our very last $20, overdrawn at the bank account, ebay Sales were abysmal and we have no friends or family that could have stepped in to help us. Everyone is struggling. Or so most people want to believe. And yet, most folks will happily post on their Facebeook page all the latest parties, movies, celebrations, exercise classes or purchases they just made; life for them is still moving joyously even though they claim otherwise. Viewing these images is like the twist of a knife in my gut because we simply can't rejoice like that just yet. We're not there yet. We are really not there yet.
The absolute relief and joy I felt when the money actually showed up in our bank account was like unraveling 6 months of binding wrapped around my heart. Here's a little background on just what a relief it was. The company my husband signed with has not exactly behaved respectably. They gave him a contract to sign that stated his first paycheck would not arrive until March 30th even though he would start working February 13th. He left to drive up north on February 9, giving himself enough time to get there safely and make arrangements for train tickets that would take him from where he is staying to his building in Philadelphia. Where he is staying is the furthest stop south on the SEPTA line. THEN, they told him there was a "paperwork glitch" and he wouldn't start work until February 15th. As "glitches" go, this one was so oddly persistent. My husband actually didn't start working until February 20th! We were supporting all of his living expenses for over a week before the first day of work even happened. THEN, when my husband submitted two separate worksheets documenting his billable hours, this company once again claimed a "paperwork glitch". "Oh, we didn't receive those emails." They claimed. (Even after my husband verified verbally that the email address he used was correct.) I was scared out of my mind believing they were trying to pull a fast one and not pay him until the end of March which is what they originally had tried to get him to agree to based on the wording of his contract. However, since my husband followed up with them personally, and they had a contract stating his first paycheck would be March 9th, they actually stepped up and did the right thing. To say that it was a relief was an understatement.
I didn't sleep the night before his paycheck was to arrive. I kept checking our bank balance via the internet every few hours during the night. Once the proof appeared that he had actually gotten paid - I felt like I was hyperventilating! I flung open my Master Bedroom door and took repeated long breaths inhaling the scent of Jasmine that was like breathing the exhalations of angels. The bands of bondage around my heart and chest kept popping with each draw of air deeply into my lungs and abdomen. The feeling of relief was profound, it was like I had started to remember how to breathe after holding my breath for so long. But, as lovely dreams are just dreams, the alarm went off and I had to begin my day.
I had to get up and attend to my boys to get them off to school, come back home and strategize what could get paid and what could not. Then it sinks in again. The sadness that won't be shaken - the bitter swallow of the tonic of my current reality. I know things are getting better, but why is it never quick enough? Why can't the sheer rejoicing of a positive change for the better rest peacefully in my heart, keeping me in a delirious state and allowing me to float along the feelings of uplifting joy? I wanted to bathe in the happiness of relief, but too many pressing issues lap at my feet like hungry babies begging my attention.
I have stated before that I am no Spiritual master. I fall down...frequently. Yet here again is a situation which observers would call ingratitude. I can read between the lines when they post platitudes that basically tow the company line: "remember, there is always enough", "you are always cared for". On some level it feels like an "I told you so" simply because my husband finally got a paycheck after 6 months! And here I am again, trying to be more of a master and wondering why I should still have worries. So I hit the books and pick a lesson. The lessons help by re-reading and immersing myself in them, but they don't solve anything that still remains as a struggle. I would much rather play in the petticoats of Scarlett O'Hara and worry about my reality another day; fail to pay any bills because I simply don't want reality to seep into this one small delicious, delusional moment. I want to dream and see the future as lovely. How in the world do I maintain the bliss of relief while attending to the demands of 3D?
My tears are threatening me, trying to seep out without my permission, these buggars have a will of their own. It's the gravity of just how far under we continue to be. Two mortgage payments behind and now we are behind on all of our utility bills, we owe our daughter money from her childhood college savings. What bills we will end up paying only keeps the light on and the water running momentarily until the next bill shows up in a fight to the finish of who wins: either one overdue mortgage payment or running water.
I'm so ready to live again - to completely and totally THRIVE. To be one of the people who posts on Facebook all the happy photos of the fun things I'm doing with my family. Instead, I forge ahead once again cleaning out our garage trying to find more things to sell so we can get rid of the financial bleeding of our separate storage facility. I'm exhausted. I want more help than from just by daughter who is an unbelievable angel. I keep wishing for friends that would reach out to me to lend a helping hand that isn't just a kind offer. I don't want to be alone anymore, feeling as if no on really cares. Why isn't anyone there? Are people so unaware of another person's suffering? Is anyone paying attention? This is the tug of war with reality that threatens to steal every ounce of joy I might celebrate.
I think others are afraid of engaging with me simply because of what I symbolize - that their reality could change at any moment. It makes them uncomfortable to be around someone who can't pay the bills, whose lawn is overgrowing with weeds, who feels so sad to be around. Why is it that people run away from this when, if the tables were turned, they wouldn't want to be alone either? Reality bites and bites hard.
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