Financial Security

Our Great Financial Sin

Posted on by noemikjames / 37 Comments

For years I had spending issues that I was so afraid to face, that I never looked closely at our financial situation. While I could definitely improved on the spending front, I’ve got a good handle on it, enough so that I KNOW my spending is not frivolous. Sure I could spend less, but most of what I spend money on are things we need–and I never purchase these things extravagantly.

So why is it that we can’t seem to save any money? Until very recently, the shame and guilt I’ve suffered over my past spending habits swayed my opinion into the “we must be doing something horribly wrong,” way of looking at things. I assumed we were committing egregious financial sins, especially as I read more and more personal finance blogs and saw how much of their income other people were saving.

And yet, when I look at our situation, I can’t find those egregious financial sins. The reality is, when it comes to the big stuff, we are (and have been) very financially responsible:

  • We only own one car, a Honda Accord which we bought used and which we’ll own until it doesn’t drive anymore (I’ve already put over 100,000 miles on it in 5.5 years).
  • We lived in a small, rent controlled apartment for far longer than it fit us (and that was probably causing health problems) and we didn’t leave until we could purchase a house.
  • We bought a house when the market wasn’t crazy and interest loans were REALLY GOOD (maybe the best they ever were?!).
  • We don’t take vacations.
  • We hardly ever travel, and when we do it’s to see family (once ever other year–and usually my parents help us pay for air fare) or friends, so we don’t have to pay to stay.
  • We don’t upgrade technology unless absolutely necessary. {Both our computers are white MacBooks–over seven years old–that we bought when our other computers were stolen. Our iPads were handed down from our parents.}
  • We didn’t have a wedding, or go on a honeymoon, or buy expensive wedding bands (and I didn’t get an engagement ring).
  • We have aggressively paid off our student loans (I’m a year away from being done!)
  • We put money away for retirement every month (though not enough).

So what are our egregious financial sins? Why can’t we afford a life that seems reasonable to us as professionals with advanced degrees?

I’ve been able to identify a few:

  • My husband took a non-profit job that paid less than 1/3 of what he was making at his law firm so he could champion a cause that he feels is important and he believes in (gun control). It was during those years that we had our children.
  • During those 4.5 years neither of us had access to affordable health care through our jobs–when our second child was born we were spending $2.5K A MONTH to provide health insurance for our family.
  • I have “pre-existing health conditions” in the form of mental health issues that made (and continue to make) different kinds of insurance (life, disability, etc) more expensive.
  • I am a teacher so I’ve never made a good salary, especially taking into consideration my advanced degree.
  • My husband now works for the city, so he also doesn’t make a great salary, especially considering he has a JS.
  • MOST IMPORTANTLY–we live in the third most expensive city IN THE WORLD (when it comes to housing prices).

So there you have it. Our egregious financial sins are working jobs that benefit society more than they benefit our bottom line, and living where our families live (which is, unfortunately, in an incredibly expensive city/area), while falling victim to the insanity that is skyrocketing health care costs.

I think, what it comes down to, is that we were taught to expect a standard of living that our level of education no longer guarantees, in a time when the economy is changing so quickly and rapidly, that the financial rules of the last generation don’t apply. Sure my parents made more than we do, but not by much, and they did it with less education (and student debt) than my husband and I have. But my parents NEVER had to think about health care, let along pay for their own health insurance. And my father worked abroad back when when they paid for your housing, so renters were paying off their mortgage for ten years while they lived rent-free.

My husband’s father raised a family of four on his income alone as a city employee, but he didn’t have to save for retirement because he was paying into a pension that guaranteed he could maintain his standard of living when he stopped working (after 35 years in Human Resources, my FIL makes more in retirement than I make as a teacher who is only three steps from the highest salary on the scale). Housing was more affordable back then, as way food, gas and other basic necessities. My husband works for the same city, but his pension plan will provide significantly less, and his salary gets him less as well.

Also, our advanced degrees cost more (taking into consideration inflation) than our parents’ degrees cost, which means we’ve had to put more of our monthly income toward paying off student loans than they did.

The old rules just don’t apply.

I have been thinking about this a lot. I realize now that I made very real mistakes when it came to choosing my career. Knowing what I know now, I don’t think I would have moved out of the area–being near my parents is important to me, especially now that I have kids–but I absolutely would have chosen a job based on what I could expect to earn. I honestly didn’t think much about it at the time, I just figured that if my parents could afford their lifestyle (my mom was a teacher), then I could teach and afford it too (I will admit that I assumed my husband would “make the money”–so dumb, I know). I knew nothing about how much houses cost (especially in this area), how much I should be putting away for retirement, how much I should be able to save each month and how important investing was. No one ever taught me those things. So now I’m figuring it out, when it’s almost too late.

And honestly, I do believe it’s too late for me to make the changes necessary to have the life I always envisioned for my family. Traveling was a HUGE part of my childhood and I wanted that for my kids, but I know now that just won’t happen for them. We won’t ever have a real bedroom with four enclosed walls, or a second bathroom to provide a little privacy, and that’s fine too. I’m willing to let go of my dreams of more space to live in this city, near our parents–I recognize that is a choice we make.

But I want to continue educating myself so I can teach my children these lessons that I never learned. I want them to know–from actual experience–how much of what they earn should be put into savings, and that they have to make very real sacrifices for the things that are most important to them. I want them to learn how to delay, or forgo, gratification that they can’t afford. I want them to be good at recognizing what they really want, so they can make financial choices accordingly.

I know this post sounds very woe-is-me, and I don’t mean for it to be. I see myself for what I am: an entitled woman learning things now that she should have learned long ago. I recognize I’m incredibly privileged, that the things I am letting go were luxuries I should never have taken for granted, let alone expected. I get that I’m a rich little white girl getting only the smallest taste of the real world. Honestly, I’m not angry with the realities of my life; I’m just angry that no one bothered to teach them to me. I’m just angry that it was assumed I would understand, that I would know my parents saved money (I suppose I did) and it would be clear to me how they budgeted to do that. I wish someone would have sat me down and explained how important it was to start saving for retirement in my early 20’s, long BEFORE I turned 20, instead of when I was 28, or taught me how to delay short-term gratification for long-term gain. But no one taught me those things. And honestly, I’m thankful my kids will grow up being forced to learn them not only through the lessons we teach, but their own life circumstances.

In the end, I guess that was my true egregious financial sin–learned (or perhaps willful?) ignorance. I’m glad I’m figuring it all out now, so I can teach it to my kids, before it’s too late. I see now, that these lesson are priceless.

How did you learn financial responsibility? Would you change it in any way? How do you plan to teach your children?

Life/Parenting & Family

Time

Posted on by noemikjames / 20 Comments

Holy shit, life has been busy. Lately the lack time has felt severe, to the point that I start to get panicky thinking of all the things I have to do and how few hours I have to do them.

I keep telling myself that this too shall pass, but getting through each day can be overwhelming. It’s not even about how I might fit in the thing I want to do, it’s about how I can manage all the things I feel I have to do. And the reality is most of them don’t get done, and the clean laundry sits all over the couch for five days, and I don’t make my grandmother’s calendar until two weeks into the new year, and every night I shave off a few more minutes of sleep until I’m barely getting six hours again.

I return all the unread comic books to library, because I know they won’t get read before they’re due. I don’t bookmark posts I want to come back and comment on because I know I’ll never have a free moment at my computer. I fish my jeans out of the dirty clothes hamper AGAIN, because I still haven’t manage to wash them. I get yet another note from my son’s daycare about how they are running low on diapers. I scramble to edit my students’ skits in the three minutes between classes.

I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’ve already extracted so much from my life: I’m not trying to see friends; or connect with my husband during the week; or make extra money tutoring (though I need to). I carve out time to exercise three days a week because my mental health depends on it, and that is usually when I blog, or comment. That is the only thing I’m doing right now that I don’t actually HAVE to do. All the rest is necessary–morning routines, making the kids dinner, putting them to bed, grading papers. I don’t see what I can stop doing to make things easier, and yet this life feels untenable.

I think a lot these days about the “seasons” in one’s life. I know this is a particularly hectic season in my life, but I also know I have a few more years left in it and I’m trying really hard to make those years not only manageable, but at least somewhat enjoyable. It’s hard not to feel like I’m failing at that, and I’m not sure how or why that is.

Not sure where to end this post. Life feels hectic and relentless and I want to simplify things but I don’t know how. And that is where I’ve been these past two weeks. And I’m hoping it gets better.

How do you make your life less hectic?

Financial Security/Identity/Life

Stating my Intention

Posted on by noemikjames / 17 Comments

I have a few things I’m working on right now, but I don’t want to write about them yet. For some reason, with these particular intentions, I feel more determined to prove that I’m serious about them by actually sticking with them for a month or two before I talk about them. I’m not sure why the prospect of revealing what I’ve done is more enticing than stating that I’m going to do it, and then following through. Maybe it’s that I feel so determined to accomplish these few goals; plus I have other avenues of support to hold me accountable. All I know is that I’m enjoying holding these few goals close, keeping them to myself for a bit, and anticipating the joy of eventually exposing them to the light.

There is another goal though, one I do want to share. I’m feeling a lot more tentative about this goal. I know it’s something I want, and frankly need, to do, but it scares me. A lot. I’m not quite sure how to proceed with this goal, and I do feel I need support, and to be held accountable. It would be easy for me to walk away from this intention without even taking the first step. That’s why I’m stating it here, for you all to read; I’m hoping you’ll help me hold myself accountable. And I want a reminder of why I’m doing it, for those times when I get cold feet.

This spring, I’m going to look for a new job.

That sentence was way harder to write than I realized.

I’ve thought about making the move to high school for a lot of years, but there have always been reasons to stay. Those reasons still exist, but each is a little less compelling that it has been, and cumulatively, their hold is not as strong as it once was.

There are a lot of reasons I’ve stayed at my job for so many years. I want to list them here because it’s important to acknowledge them for what they are. If I don’t write them down, I worry their allure will burgeon, taunting me to stay, as my fear grows.

Reasons I’ve Stayed at my Job

  • I like teaching Spanish, and the other classes I’ve taught over the years have kept me from getting bored.
  • The staff is great; there is a real sense of community.
  • My mom is on campus and I love visiting with her every day.
  • Decent commute.
  • They have been VERY accommodating with my schedule.
  • I’ve been teaching these classes for so long that they require very little prep (less work to do outside of school).
  • I feel capable in this position and it’s comfortable and easy to stay.
  • I’ve enjoyed the increased responsibility as English Language Development Coordinator.
  • Good salary (as far as teachers go).
  • Professional autonomy–I can teach what I want (mostly) and how I want to teach it (completely). I don’t have to answer to, or deal with the politics of, a foreign language department.

The reality is, I have a really good thing going here, and I recognize that. Ever time I’ve considered looking for a high school position, I’ve weighed the possible pros and the probable cons and determined the negatives outweighed the positives. There is so much to love about my job, I figured that at best it would be a wash.

So what has changed? Two things: I’m increasingly dissatisfied teaching this age and grade level. This year over half of my day is spent with 6th graders, and I don’t love that. 6th graders will always be a part of my day here, and even if I got to teach only 8th graders, I’d still want to teach older kids. After 12 years at the middle school level, I’m ready for more mature, capable students.

I’m also getting tired of teaching such a low level of Spanish. It’s just not very interesting. I can never teach anything higher than Spanish 1 here, and most of the day I don’t get to teach even that.

Other things have changed as well. Many of the reasons I loved working here just aren’t as… compelling anymore. The sense of community I used to feel is not nearly as strong as it once was. In some ways I isolated myself with weird schedule requests that brought me closer to my family while creating distance from my colleagues. But it’s not just my own self-imposed isolation: the culture has changed. Most of it trickles down from the district level, but there are issues with our administration as well. Our staff used to be a cohesive unit, held together by mutual respect and real friendship, but those bonds have been denigrating for a while. The sense of belonging I used to feel is not as strong as it once was.

It’s the little things too. My mom retires the year after next so that reason for staying will be gone soon. The few friendships I’ve attempted to make with my colleagues have stalled out, and turn over is low, so work friendships aren’t a reason to stay. Most schools only honor ten years of service in a prior district and I’m already at 12; if I wait much longer the chance I will have to take a pay cut grows. (The only reason I hope I might not have to is that in most districts high school teachers make more than lower grade teachers.) Also, I wasn’t sure until this year where my daughter would be going to school; now that I know she’s not in my district I have the freedom to find anywhere on the peninsula.

There has been a final compelling reason I’ve stayed at my job, especially these last few years: I’ve been waiting for life to get easier. I have two young children right now and life at home is exhausting. Time is at a premium and the idea of having to start over somewhere new, with all the prep work that entails, has been overwhelming. I figured if I waited a few years, evenings would feel more manageable and I’d feel more capable of tackling the increased work load of a new job. But the more I talk to the mothers of older kids, the more convinced I am that I shouldn’t wait until it “feels easier.” Sure there will be a time when my kids don’t need me to usher them through every part of their bedtime routine, but by then they will also have commitments outside the home that require I sit at lessons or classes, or at the very least shuttle them to and fro. I’m probably never going to have appreciably more time than I have now, so I need to quit waiting for the elusive couple of years when things are “easier.” Working full time with two kids is never going to feel easy and I’m never going to feel totally capable of starting from scratch at a new job, so I should just bite the bullet and do it now.

That doesn’t mean I’m not terrified of what starting over somewhere might entail–because I am. But I’ve never let fear keep me from attempting something important and I’m not going to start now.

And that’s the thing, this is a start. I don’t have to accept a new position this year, I just have to apply and interview (if anyone wants me to). One of the reasons I want to start now is so I have plenty of time (years, if need be) to find a position that feels right for me. If I wait until I’m miserable at my job, and feel like I have to escape to save my sanity, I might accept something that isn’t a good fit. So I’m going to start this year, see what positions become available, and see what high school salaries look like when you’ve been teaching middle school for 12 years. I can’t take a pay cut, at least not without creating considerable financial stress for our family, so there may not be much I can even consider. But that is all part of taking this first step–ultimately it’s a fact finding mission. If I think of it like that, it doesn’t stress me out so much.

Schools don’t usually start posting jobs for the coming school year until March or April, so I have a few months to work on my resume and learn how the application process works. I’m not projecting any expectations into the future, just focusing on each step as I tackle it. Hopefully, I will learn something valuable this year, so that eventually I can find a job that is more satisfying.

I know some of you are educators–if anyone has made the jump from middle school to high school and can enlighten me on some of the differences in teaching at those levels, I’d REALLY appreciate it. And if anyone has any tips on job searching, applying or interviewing, I am all ears. I haven’t looked for a job in a LONG time. I need all the help I can get.

Uncategorized

Nail Biter

Posted on by noemikjames / 6 Comments

I bite my nails. And the skin around them. It’s a disgusting habit, one I’ve tried to conquer for over a decade. 

It’s about anxiety, anxiety I don’t even register until I realize I’m biting my nails. 

My skin is dry, especially now, and when I pick at the skin around my already ravaged finger nails I eventually get cracks at the corners. They are relatively small little fissures, but they hurt like crazy. Lately I have at least one at any given moment, sometimes as many as three or four. When they get really deep, I cover them in ointment and wrap them in a bandaid. They usually take a day or two to heal, but as soon as one feels better, another opens up. 

They are such small nuances, but they cause me so much discomfort. You’d think they’d be the perfect motivator–the kind of natural consequence that gets someone to stop doing something they know they shouldn’t do. And yet, even they are not a powerful enough deterent. I guess I’ll be biting my nails forever. 

  

Health & Well Being/Identity

The Mirror

Posted on by noemikjames / 17 Comments

We have a new mirror in our house. It occupies the wall across from our bedroom door, so I see myself in it every time I walk in and out of my room.

This new mirror is the first and only full length mirror in our house. My in-laws gave it to us when they decided they didn’t need it anymore. I took it eagerly, as I’d always wanted something I could see my outfit in before I left the house.

For three years the only two mirrors we’ve had were the one above the bathroom sink and one mounted above the mantel that serves as the headboard of our bed (we sleep in what is supposed to be our living room). So for three years, I couldn’t see my entire reflection unless I stood on my toilet or my bed. Needless to say, I didn’t catch a glimpse of my entire body much.

Now I see it all the time–at least ten time a day. And you know what? I don’t really like it. I don’t like what I see and I don’t like seeing it all the damn time. Seeing my own reflection on the regular has me thinking about how I look. A lot. And I don’t like a lot of the things I’m thinking.

I have never had a great relationship with body image. I almost phrased that to say that I’ve never had a great relationship with my body, but that isn’t true. I’ve always felt my body was strong and capable, even when I haven’t loved how it looked. It’s not that I don’t respect my body, it’s that I don’t love the way it looks.

It has taken me two decades–and some miracle depression medication–to let go of my (at one time severe) compulsive eating and obsessions with food. I don’t want to EVER go back there. Right now I feel I’m in a relatively good place: I eat because I am hungry and I exercise because it makes me feel good. I don’t want to have to change either to change my body. My clothes fit fine, I feel strong, I don’t think about food except to plan upcoming meals, and I look forward to getting my sweat on. Sure I wish I ate healthier food and I wish I could work out more, but I know that right now, this is what I am capable of, and it works.

So it’s really pissing me off that I’m not happy with my own reflection.

I have friends, both in real life and online, that are transforming themselves and/or already look amazing. Am I comparing myself with how they look? Or what they are doing? The thing is, I know I’m doing all I can do right now–I can’t take on some restrictive diet or add more workouts to my regimen. What I’m doing really is working for me. Mostly my brain knows that, but this little voice whispers… what could you look like if you did what they do?

I’d probably look really fucking good, but it would cost me more time and mental energy than I have right now (and honestly-for me-probably more than it would be worth). At this stage in my life, I simply can’t afford to do more. And there are a lot of years ahead of me (hopefully) when I can make eating better and exercising more a bigger priority. It’s okay for that to be something I tackle farther down the road.

Because right now, I feel good. I look good. I don’t need to make things harder. Sure there are parts of me I’d like to change, but you know what? When I was starving myself and exercising like crazy–when I weighed 125lbs and wore a size 4 (in Europe!)–there were parts of myself I wanted to change. My abs will never be flat, my stomach roll will never disappear, my stretch marks will always ravage my abdomen, my torso will never be long. My body type, and history, just won’t allow me to achieve what I’ve foolishly embraced as the absolute ideal. (And yes, I’m attempting to alter that ideal to better match reality, but it’s hard to override the image I’ve been served for a lifetime).

I’ve worked so hard to feel good about how my body looks, it’s nerve wracking that one mirror placed in a well trafficked area of my home could undo it.

And yes I know I could take down the mirror. The trouble is, it looks really good where it’s been hung, and I gouged some pretty sizable holes into the wall hanging it, so I’d need to find a pretty decent piece of art to replace it. Also, I don’t want to let this part of myself win, the part that whispers shitty things in my ear after a big meal or when I’m bloated. I want to be able to see myself and feel good regardless. I don’t want feeling good about my body to depend on it not being visible.

Clearly I have a lot more work to do, and frankly I’m tired of this kind of work. But I recognize that it’s some of the most important work I can do, especially now that I have a daughter in my house. The reality is I’m probably never going to look better than I do now–and I look damn good! So I’m going to start telling myself that, even when I’m having a hard time believing it.

Do you have a full length mirror in your home? How does seeing yourself make you feel?

Marriage

10-7-2

Posted on by noemikjames / 7 Comments

This past week has been rough. I ended up dodging pink eye (hurrah!), but I did come down with the death cold and it’s had me feeling like shit on a shoe all week. I finally started feeling a little better yesterday, but not much.

The transition back to real life has been hard on both my kids, especially my daughter. It feels like every interaction with her is negative and the reality is I don’t like being around her. At all. I’ve been thinking things about parenthood that I don’t think most people think, things I haven’t felt comfortable sharing, even here. It’s a lonely place to be.

But there have been rays of light in the darkness these past five days. Monday was our anniversary: 10 years together, 7 since our domestic partnership (which would have been when we got married had Prop 8 not passed in California a couple of months before), and two years since we officially tied the knot (a few months after Prop 8 was officially struck down). We started dating in early January, which is why we had our domestic partnership ceremony then and why we finally got married that same week, so all our anniversaries could be celebrated together.

I can’t believe we’ve been together for a decade. It’s hard to remember the people we were when we met, and what we saw in each other when we first got together. Luckily, after reconnecting during our weekend without the kids, things between us are good, and my heart was ready to hold this symbolic day close, and recognize it for the precious achievement it is.

My marriage is not what I expected it to be, but then again, neither is anything else in my life. I suppose that is what growing up is all about, replacing the expectation with the reality. Reconciling that divergence, in so many areas of my life, has been a long, arduous process for me, but I think I’m finally getting there. I do appreciate my husband, and my marriage, for what it is, the partnership of two people who love each other, and who are trying their best to honor each other, in spite of all their human flaws.

A little over ten years ago I gave my husband my number in the hopes that he would call (we were both very drunk, stumbling our separate ways after the last tail gate of that season). Seven years ago we promised each other love and respect in front of our families, having already started trying to build our family. Two years ago we officially bonded ourselves together in the eyes of the law, having just completed the family we worked so hard for. It’s been a long, bumpy road to this life we wanted, and it’s not at all what we expected it to be, but I’m very thankful that we have each other.

IMG_2016

This picture was taken the summer after we started dating. We were so young, and had no idea what was in store for us. I see this picture sometimes and wonder what I would say to the me who stood there, in front of some majestic Mayan ruins in Oaxaca, Mexico, holding the new love of her life. I think I would say, It will be okay. And I bet the me from ten years ago would say that same thing to me now.

Uncategorized/Writing

With Sincerest Gratitude

Posted on by noemikjames / 4 Comments

You gals really know how to make a girl feel good. Truly, reading the comments yesterday got me teary eyed.

They also helped me to see something that I was vaguely aware of, but had never taken the time to articulate. My old blog was all about me seeking validation, understanding and support. I turn to this space a lot more for help and advice, especially in these areas where I have little or no experience (ahem, personal finance) and I don’t know what the f*ck I’m doing. And sure I love a little validation when I’m frustrated with the division of labor in my marriage, but I’m even more appreciate of a fresh perspective, of new and different ways of looking at, and dealing with, a situation. It can feel like I haven’t made many positive changes in my life in the last year, but the reality is I have, and A LOT of that change came from your ideas and your support in my pursuing them.

Having a sounding board of intelligent, thoughtful women to help me through these mundane, but ultimately important issues, is incredibly valuable. This space is much more productive, in many ways, than my old space ever was, and that is 100% because of all of you. You all are as much a part of this space as I am. I might host the discussion, but you all come with your incredible ideas and make the discourse interesting. You are all why I keep coming here.

I struggle a lot with friendships in real life. It’s hard for me to get through the months and years of small talk and the tediously slow incremental building up of a relationship, when here I can put it all out there and get a meaningful response. I wonder sometimes if I can ever build a real-life friendship that will be as fulfilling as the connections I’ve created in this space (and on other people’s blogs). It’s hard to accept that I can’t have the best of both worlds, but maybe that is just reality.

I wanted to write more today, as I was truly touched by the responses on my last post, but it’s late and this first day back to the daily grind was exhausting, and this cough is wearing me down. I’ve promised myself I will try harder to log seven hours of shut eye, and my bed beckons. So I’m sorry that I couldn’t write more tonight, but please know how much your words mean to me. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart.

Uncategorized

Well, that took a turn…

Posted on by noemikjames / 31 Comments

I’ve been thinking a lot about this blog and what I write here and the support I receive, and my past blog and what I wrote there and the support I received. It struck me that my first blog, by the very nature of why I was writing, provided me with a community, and the members of that community adhered to a certain set of unspoken rules, perhaps organically understood because of the common thread that intertwined through all our stories. We knew, for the most part, what we needed from others and so we knew what to give everyone else. That community, and the unspoken rules we all seemed to follow, made me feel safe expressing all manner of thoughts and feelings, even the ones I would never expose to the light of my real life. That space, for a long, long time, it felt safe.

Until it didn’t.

This space has never felt that way, and that is part of why I created it. Once I realized that the safe haven I once had was gone (or perhaps was only ever a figment of my imagination, a thing I needed so much I made it manifest), I abandoned it to write somewhere else, where the expectations didn’t have to change, but could be created anew.

Here I don’t feel a part of a community, at least not in the ways I used to. And here I don’t really feel safe. {Which is good because I shouldn’t feel safe–no space on the internet is ever, ever safe.} Which is not to say I feel unsafe here, I just recognize that not everyone who reads this is coming from a place of understanding. I still chose to put some things out there that I would never expose to the light of my real life–writing anonymously can be a powerful thing–but I don’t do so expecting a chorus of empathy and support. There are fewer common threads intertwining my stories with the stories of those who read me, and many of those stories are unknown to me.

I wonder a lot, what the purpose of this space is, especially when it’s not serving a therapeutic purpose to me personally. What am I creating in this space? Is that creation valuable to others? Does a truthful account, in and of itself, have some inherent meaning? Or is the mere idea narcissistic to the extreme?

As I’ve closed the chapter of loss and infertility, I’ve opened some new ones, and my reading habits mirror that feeling of moving on. I rarely add a new blog about infertility or loss to my reader (though I follow everyone I once read, if they are still writing), but I do add parenting blogs (I suppose “mommy blogs” is the proper nomenclature but I never use it myself), or blogs about minimalism, frugal living and personal finance, or Buddhism and meditation, or creative living, or education. So many of these blogs offer “how to” posts, or offer generalized advice, or present the writer’s expert opinion. There is very little of personal significance in them; I know very little, or nothing at all, about these people’s lives or families, about their doubts or fears, about their challenges or self-perceived weaknesses.

I have to admit, I don’t get as much out of the blog written by the person who already knows it all. I understand why these are the more popular, better trafficked blogs–most people are looking for solid advice to enact real, measurable change in their lives. And when I’m searching for the answer to a question, those are the posts I appreciate finding, the ones with a step-by-step guide of how to get it done, or some expert advice on where to start. But as I’ve explored the world of personal finance and frugal living, I’ve found almost no blogs written by people who struggled to get where they are (which is always a place of success from which they can share their valuable knowledge). Most found the way to their frugal, well-financed life organically, or if they did have to look for it, had no trouble adapting it for themselves. The few blogs I have found where people had to do real soul searching and make difficult changes, are incredibly valuable, but they are rare treasures, the diamonds in the rough. And I haven’t found anything by someone still in the trenches, but then again, I suppose you wouldn’t tout your blog as belonging to the personal finance genre if you felt you were failing at personal finance. Lord knows I don’t.

This post is meandering and I apologize for that. I’m just struggling of late with what I perceive as a lack of belonging, and this perception of myself as having no real niche, or reason for writing. As is always the case, my story is unremarkable. In all the areas I struggle, my struggle is of no real consequence. Yes I suffer from depression, and it marks every day of my life, but I’m not circling thoughts of suicide or even trying to find a medication that works. Yes my daughter is challenging, but I’m not parenting a child with a diagnosable disorder that requires the pursual of treatment or therapies. Yes, my financial situation is barely sustainable, but I’m not paying off hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of debt, or filing for bankruptcy. Yes, my marriage isn’t a great, but I’m not  having an affair or getting a divorce.

{And yes, I realize it is GOOD that none of these things are happening to me. I’m not disappointed that my life isn’t rife with drama, I’m just pointing out that it is ultimately unremarkable, that there is no aspect of my struggle that defines me, or might lend definition to my writing, and this space.}

My life is just, my life. My blog is just about that life. I don’t possess any sage wisdom to share or expertise with which to advise. I’m just a woman–many would call me a mommy blogger–writing from her mundane, insignificant point of view. And for what? So eventually some day someone might ridicule me for being both ungrateful enough not to appreciate what I have, and also self-involved enough to write about it?

Ah, now we (me included! I did not realize I was writing this post!) see this post for what it is, the unavoidable (for me it seems) existential blogging crisis, put into words. I write through these feelings every once in a while, and I wonder “aloud” if I’ll keep blogging, and then I always do, because honestly, I have nothing better to do with my time. And without this space, I might never express myself in a meaningful way, or exchange ideas with other adults (especially not ones as intelligent and thoughtfully the women who comment here.) And so I keep coming back here, even though I know it’s not worth much, in the grand scheme of things, and I’m not safe here from those who might hurt me with their words (knowingly or not). I keep coming back here, making myself vulnerable, because it’s the only way I know how to create, and until I can create something different, here I will stay.

I read somewhere once, that we write online so others might bear witness, so that we might feel less alone in our lives. That is surely the case for me. And I know that until I have some other canvas upon which to create, I will come here to write, even if I’m not quite sure who I’m writing for or what I’m writing about.

Why do you write, either on your own blog or in comment sections? What purpose do you think blogs like this one serve?

Uncategorized

Splitting the Difference

Posted on by noemikjames / 3 Comments

Wake up time here has been pushed back to a heavenly 7:30am, sometimes even 8am, during the break (yes, I know, my kids are good sleepers). Waking up tomorrow at 5:45am is going to be brutal, so this morning I dragged my ass out of bed at 6:45am, in a pathetic attempt to ease myself into real life. 

The whole family has been sick these pay few days and the circle of sickness is finally complete. Oh how the mighty have fallen. I feel like shit on a shoe this morning, and what’s worse is I might have finally succumbed to the pink eye that my daughter had on Christmas and my son had the last few days. If I have to get a sub tomorrow, after two full weeks off, I’m going to laugh so hard. 

Then I might cry. 

If it’s just this awful cold I’ll soldier on tomorrow, but if I have visible pink eye I can’t go in, at least for a day. I really hope this redness is just from sleep and the gunk I excavated was just your run of the mill sleep-in-my-eye. 

Please let that be the case. 

Come on lucky number seven!

Marriage

Dodging Resentment

Posted on by noemikjames / 12 Comments

Used to be, when my husband was out late, or sick, or just busy, I did the dishes for him. The dishes are his job, and he’s really good about emptying and reloading the dishwasher every night, but the bigger dishes pile up in the sink until finally there isn’t enough space to rinse stuff or fill up the Brita filter. At that point I generally stepped in, emptied the dish rack, washed the pile of dishes and went about my business.

In that moment, I felt good about helping out my husband, because I know what a relief it can be to get home and find a chore you’ve been avoiding has been done for you. But then, as  I was left alone to do everything for longer stretches, the resentment started to simmer. He never does a load of laundry when I’m late, or feeling shitty–Why was I always the one making his life easier, when he never did the same for me?

So, a couple months ago, when we had one of our coming to Jesus talks about “the order of things,” I stopped doing the dishes. I didn’t point out that I used to do it, nor did I declare that I was going to stop. I just don’t do the dishes anymore. No matter how late he comes home, or how many nights he has other commitments (and he had A LOT in December), I NEVER do his dishes. Of course, if I have to clean a pot or pan so I can use it, I do (and without comment), but I never step in and empty the dish rack or deal with the mounting pile of dishes (and some days it gets high).

I wonder sometimes if he’s even noticed that something has changed, that I stopped helping him out, but I never broach the subject because I know I’ll say it wrong. So I go about my business, trying to prevent resentment in the only way I know how, by giving less instead of wanting him to give more.

And you know what, I don’t feel so much resentment anymore. It doesn’t bother me as much that he NEVER steps in (nor has he) and does a load of laundry, or any other chore, to help me out. If we’re both not doing things for each other, it hurts less.

This week my husband has been sick, and the dishes have piled up. I feel like a bitch leaving them, but the fact that he has never stepped in and given me the space and time I need to get better when I’m sick, keeps bubbling up. When I’m sick I’m expected to suck it up and soldier on. Who my expectations of him be different? On the one hand, I don’t feel like this stuff should be quid pro quo in a relationship–I only give if I get–and yet, if you’re the one who always does the giving and rarely, if ever, gets anything in return…

I did the dishes for him today, and I know he appreciated it. Honestly, I miss helping him out sometimes. But I know that eventually, when I get frustrated or angry, the lack of reciprocity will come to a boil and the resentment will start to simmer. I wish I were a bigger person, and could just give without feeling I should get back. And I wish we had the kind of marriage where we did things to help each other. But I’m not that person, and we don’t have that marriage, and I’m trying to accept that, without feeling like the biggest bitch that ever walked the earth.