When Exactly Are We Supposed to Start Living?
I've been thinking about something lately.
And by “thinking,” I mean my brain grabbed a random thought, ran three miles with it, took four unnecessary exits, and somehow turned it into a full-blown existential crisis.
You know. Normal Tuesday. 😂
When exactly are we supposed to start living?
I honestly don't know what I'm waiting for before I let myself just...live.
Maybe I thought it would happen when the kids were grown.
Maybe when everyone was settled.
Maybe when I didn't feel like I was going to miss something or someone by choosing to do something for myself.
Maybe when we had more money.
Okay.
Definitely when we had more money.
Because money—we've established that bitch has a starring role. 😂
If You Aren't Rich, Do You Really Get to Just Live?
I know what people say.
Money doesn't buy happiness.
And they're right.
Money doesn't guarantee happiness. But lack of money absolutely limits choices.
That's the part we don't talk about enough.
It's hard to “just take the trip” when you're calculating how much gas it'll take to get there.
It's hard to “plan a date night” when dinner for two somehow requires a small business loan.
It's hard to spontaneously get in the car and go somewhere when you're thinking about whether that $40 should stay in the account because the gas tank will need filled again before payday.
Hell, sometimes going to the gas station requires financial planning.
And yes, I know.
We've all been there.
Other people have it worse.
Other people are struggling more.
I understand that.
But somebody else's struggle doesn't make yours imaginary.
There are hardworking families everywhere doing everything they're “supposed” to do and still scrounging for change, moving money around, checking accounts before buying groceries and wondering how they're supposed to stretch one paycheck across seventeen different responsibilities.
Meanwhile, everything keeps getting more expensive.
And you're still supposed to smile and remember to “enjoy the little things.”
Girl, I am trying.
But sometimes I'm enjoying the sunset while mentally calculating the electric bill.
Financial Stress and Living Life: Are We Just Really Good at Surviving?
We're told to work hard so we can build a good life.
So, we work.
And work.
And figure it out.
And sacrifice.
And give our kids things we didn't have growing up.
And try to build something better.
But at some point, I have to ask:
Is it really living life, or working ourselves to death trying to give our family what we didn't get growing up?
Because I don't think I'm waiting for some magical destination anymore.
I think I'm waiting for time to pause.
Not forever.
Just long enough for me to have the thought:
What would I actually do with my life if I wasn't constantly thinking about what needs to happen next?
Maybe I'm waiting for a moment of my life that isn't already spoken for.
Not claimed by a bill.
A job.
The house.
The kids.
A grocery list.
A responsibility.
The next problem.
The next paycheck.
The next thing that needs fixed.
Just a little piece of time that belongs to living instead of maintaining life.
And Then There's Guilt
Obviously, money—we've established that bitch has a starring role. 😂 But underneath money, is there guilt too?
Ohhhh, absolutely.
Let's say somebody randomly hands me $1,000.
Free money.
No strings attached.
You'd think I'd immediately do something fun, right?
Absolutely not.
My brain would open approximately 47 tabs.
Are we low on anything?
Do we need groceries?
What house supplies are we almost out of?
When was the last oil change?
How are the tires?
Does one of the kids need something?
What bill is coming next?
And the biggest one:
What if something happens?
That damn what if plays a huge role in the financial part of life.
And if it doesn't for you?
I'm jealous and you can't sit with us.
LMAO.
JK. JK. 😂
Seriously, though—if your brain doesn't immediately assign unexpected money seventeen emergency jobs, you're lucky.
Because mine has always worked like this:
Bills — check.
Food — check.
House supplies — check.
Okay...
Maybe I can get one thing.
Usually, I'll think about something for the kids or my husband first.
Then maybe something for me.
So, I go to the store.
Pick something up.
Put it back.
Pick it up again.
Check the price.
Put it back.
Find something cheaper.
Decide whether the cheaper thing is actually worth the money.
Walk around the store for absolutely no reason.
Circle back.
Look at the original thing again.
Put that bitch back for the fifth time. 😂
And eventually I either buy something cheaper...
or I go home with nothing.
Because somewhere in my brain is this feeling that something else is about to snatch that little gift of money away.
And then...
POOF.
Tire.
Bill.
Repair.
Something somebody needs.
Some random expense that apparently woke up that morning and chose violence.
And there I am again.
Calculator out.
Moving numbers around.
Figuring out the next plan.
And every time that happens, my brain learns:
See? Good thing you didn't spend it.
So next time?
It's even harder.
What If Survival Finally Stopped Demanding Your Attention?
That question hit me harder than I expected.
If survival finally stopped demanding your attention… would you even remember how you wanted to live?
I'd like to believe I would.
But then I thought...
Why would I want to remember how I used to want it when I could make new plans?
Maybe I wouldn't need to become the old me again.
Maybe I'd get to meet a version of myself who actually has room to decide what she wants now.
I'd travel.
Not just to the places everybody goes.
I want the places people forget about.
The little towns.
The weird roadside stops.
The places you accidentally find and end up talking about for the next ten years.
I'd make a bucket list and actually do the damn list instead of crossing something off because a bill came up.
I'd just...
go.
Full MIA.
BBBYYYYYYEEEEEE. 😂
So Where Would I Go?
Then came the question:
Where does your brain picture when you imagine finally saying, “Fuck it. Let's go.”?
And here's the funny part.
I don't see a place.
If I could get in the car with my husband—no millions of dollars, no fixing every problem first, no bills waiting for us—and just go...
I see country roads.
Windows down.
Radio all the way up.
He's driving.
I'm beside him.
And we're just going.
No worries.
No stress.
We're not arguing about anything.
Nobody has to figure anything out.
Nobody is solving the next problem.
Sometimes we're talking.
Sometimes we're quiet.
But we're together.
And there's something different about silence when you're not sitting in it worrying.
We don't even need a destination.
We're not running away from our life.
We're finally getting to be inside of it.
And when I really think about it...
That's how I would describe living.
Not being rich.
Not buying everything I want.
Not waking up in some mansion where problems magically don't exist.
Just...
freedom.
The freedom to go.
The freedom to change the plan.
The freedom to make new plans.
The freedom to enjoy something without immediately calculating what enjoying it is going to cost later.
Maybe that's what I've been waiting for all along.
I Don't Want Everything. I Want Breathing Room.
I don't need enough money to never look at a price tag again.
I just want enough breathing room that every decision doesn't require a calculator.
I want to be able to say:
Let's go.
Without my brain immediately answering:
Okay...but what if?
And I don't have some beautiful answer for how to make that happen.
I'm still figuring it out.
That's the strange thing about financial stress and living life—you can be grateful for what you have and still wish you had a little more room to actually enjoy it.
Bills will still show up.
Things will still break.
Money will still disappear faster than I understand how that's mathematically possible.
And I'll probably still put something back five times before buying it. 😂
But maybe I've finally figured out what I'm waiting for.
It's not millions of dollars.
It's not the perfect life.
It's not even a life without problems.
I want enough room in my life to actually experience it.
For me?
Country roads.
Windows down.
Radio up.
Him driving.
Me beside him.
And nowhere in particular we have to be.
Maybe that's enough.
Actually...
Maybe that's everything. 🌸
🌸 A Beautifully Overwhelmed Reminder
Maybe living isn't about finally reaching the point where nothing is wrong.
Maybe it's having enough room between the responsibilities, the bills, the what ifs, and everything we're carrying to actually notice that we're here.
You don't have to feel guilty for wanting more than survival.
Wanting breathing room doesn't make you ungrateful.
Wanting experiences doesn't mean you don't appreciate what you have.
And wanting a life that feels like more than working, paying bills, solving problems, and starting over again isn't asking for too much.
Money doesn't guarantee happiness. But lack of money absolutely limits choices.
And maybe that's why the dream isn't always more.
Sometimes the dream is simply having enough that you finally get to choose.
So, here's the question I want you to sit with:
If you didn't have to worry about what it would cost you afterward… what would living look like to you?
Don't answer with what you're supposed to want.
Don't worry about whether it's realistic.
Maybe it's traveling the world.
Maybe it's changing careers.
Maybe it's creating something.
Maybe it's a tiny house somewhere quiet.
Maybe it's getting in the car with someone you love, rolling the windows down, turning the radio all the way up, and having absolutely nowhere you need to be.
Whatever came into your head first?
Don't dismiss it.
Maybe that's not some unrealistic dream.
Maybe it's a little piece of you reminding you that underneath all this surviving...
you're still in there.
Beautifully overwhelmed. Still figuring it out. Still dreaming.
And hopefully, somewhere between all the what ifs...
still finding little ways to live. 🌸
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