It's a nice enough day, but I don't want to go to work. In the 2.5 years I have worked at this job, I have never said that before. I have always looked forward to going in to work at the greenhouse. I enjoy the company of my co workers. I usually enjoy the work itself.My horoscope for this morning mentions the "relationship between my self esteem and the material world and the deeper psychological issues of the fear of scarcity". I do live in fear of not having enough. Which is why I have extra undies, white tee shirts and socks. I also have extras of my favorite shirts and pants. Extra sheets. All handy to carry out of the house in case of emergency. I won't be one of those people with only the clothes on their backs after a flood or fire. I'll have all my clothes.
Work = Safety. I say that, and I have three paychecks which I haven't cashed or deposited in my purse. I remember cleaning out a drawer in our house in Illinois and finding checks, lots of them, that I had never taken to the bank. Direct deposit? Never have done it. Yet, I worry about money all the time. Hate to spend it. But I do spend money and then go through a spending withdrawal period. I probably need therapy.
I grew up in a very dysfunctional family. We had to ask (beg) for bus fare, money for school supplies, etc from our dad. Mom had nothing, no bank account, no household money. We scrounged for pennies (in couch cushions) to buy popsicles in the summer and shared two between the four of us (mom and three kids). We never ate a meal in a restaurant. Never had soft drinks. Wore clothes till they literally fell apart. Always worried if there would be enough supper for all of us to eat. We weren't poor. My dad was just reluctant to spend his money on his family. I inherited all the money he didn't spend on his family. Ironic?
My dad also judged us on our relative worth: what we were paid for the work we did. When I was a stay at home mom until the kids went to school full time, I was worthless. As soon as I found a job, I was okay in his eyes. Is that why I'm working today? To be judged, okay, in the eyes of a dead man?
Sorry, if this stuff is too heavy for a sunny, late spring morning.
4 comments:
I think we're cousins. I too worry about money, worry about having enough of anything, even courage, but I have five uncashed paychecks.
I don't know why your dad was the way he was. You can sit and theorize 'til the cows come home and you still won't know for sure. The things you described made me feel sad for that little girl you were.
You and I have never met. I only know you through this blog. But if your writing is any indication, I think you're priceless and I do mean that in a good way.
I've been away for a couple of days in PA visiting friends. Did me a world of good-shopping, visiting, laughing a lot. Being relatively alone most of the time is my choice but I forget how much fun it is to laugh and do some things with other women friends. You need to go visit your friend and get away for a few days. All the "stuff" is still here but it doesn't seem nearly as daunting. Love the flower pictures.
We had much in common in our childhoods. My friend often tells me that there is a veil of saddness that she sees in me from time to time. I hope your veil is lifted soon.
What about your siblings, are they still alive? Didn't they inherit anything?
Reading your post I feel the greatest sadness for your mom.
Me? I would spend the money and enjoy myself thoroughly out of spite to that father. He'd be doing head- stands in that grave of his.
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