Fear

This summer I faced a sixteen year old fear and played my guitar in front of an audience.  I played Kenny Roger's "The Gambler."  Plainly stated, it was not good. I struggled with each chord change; the ones I hit sounded muddled; there were long pauses as I fumbled for the fingering; it took about five minutes.  But, when I finished, they gave me a standing ovation.


A standing ovation!


Granted, this was an audience comprised of high school students from across the state assembled for the pure purpose of personal development at the annual Oregon Association of Student Councils summer camp, and they are definitely the most encouraging group on the planet.  BUT, I played and they listened and they applauded.


I had faced a fear.  A fear that had absorbed energy and grown each time I glimpsed my guitar in the corner, each time I proclaimed I'd take lessons but didn't, each time I mused, "Wouldn't it be lovely to learn to play while I'm pregnant?  While my son is small?  In lessons with my son?" and never followed through, each time I lasciviously listened as a friend entertained adoring fans around the campfire...


The moment I finished "The Gambler", the very moment, I was richer, I was stronger, I was lighter.  All the weight I'd lugged around fretting about learning to play and fearing sounding terribly - it was gone. I may not be a good guitar player yet, but I'm better and more experienced than I used to be as a result of facing that fear.


It's my belief that a similar phenomenon of relief and lightness will occur when I take steps to release this fear, the fear of taking measure and falling short.  Being less than my friends, my significant other, my family, my neighbors, my colleagues.  Having less.  


Whether it's the wisdom of my years, or somehow I just started paying attention, it's struck me painfully that having less is of lesser threat than having nothing...which could very well happen for me, and resultantly for my son, should I continue to make purchases and financial decisions based on the foundation that I must not be less than.  


Apply this to a habit I've practiced since my son's dad and I divorced.  I felt an imperative to measure up to his dad...his dad's home, furnishings, outings.  Even though this little boy was only two and wouldn't have noticed if our home was owned or rented, filled with new or thrift store goods, I felt determined to give him the best.  Not the best that I could do with what I had, but the best in comparison to what his dad could offer.  


Pointless.  Irresponsible. Fear.


Isn't it more important that he feel loved and comfortable in our home? Isn't it more important that he and I have time to spend together?  Isn't it more useful to him to come from a family modeling responsible financial decisions?  Yes.  Yes.  Yes.


Or consider the money I've spent dining out proclaiming, "I deserve this!"  when actually, I just didn't want to confess to my friends, "I can't afford it."  I didn't want to be the only one who had less.


The truth is, every time I come home, I feel good...and guilty.   I've assembled, albeit on credit, a cozy nest that sometimes inspires visitors to remark things like, "Your home feels so welcoming!  I really like your style."  It's nothing fancy, but it's comfortable.  And, I absolutely love fine dining...the ambiance, the food, the company, the occasions.  I feel best when I'm dressed in something stylish and well-made, when my make up compliments what I've got, when my hair looks healthy.  I like taking care of myself that way.  


Most of what I purchase is on sale.  I don't have a television or expensive electronics (much to the little one's dismay), or even glittery jewelry.  But the price tag of what I do have increases each time a billing cycle assesses a percentage rate.


Of course I know none of that is essential to being myself, taking care of my son, or actually being and looking healthy.  But, a majority of my financial choices are made on the basis of measuring up to others, rather than just being myself.


At that same high school leadership camp last year, one of our junior councelors said something like this, "I spent most of high school acting in a way that I thought others would like so that they wouldn't judge me.  But, people judged me anyway.  It's human nature.  Then I realized their judgements weren't real...they were judging the person I was trying to be in order to be liked.  They weren't judging the real me.  That's when I figured out, I'd rather just be me.  That way, if I have to be judged, it's for who I really am, instead of who I'm acting like."  


He'd figured that out at 18.  Here I am at 36 and the meaning's just trickling in.  My financial state has been influenced by a fear of being judged incorrectly.  


Admittedly, one true judgement folks could make of me right now is that I've been financially irresponsible.  Funny how the truth is much less flattering than the facade I'd attempted to buy.


What would happen if I became financially responsible instead?  What would I think of myself?  What would I communicate to others?  And, perhaps most importantly, what would this model for my son?