This year I became a commercial real estate investor. My husband’s dental practice expanded to the point where he was literally “out of room.” I suggested we purchase a “gently worn” RV and a generator so he could do fillings in a parking lot. He countered with it was time to purchase land and build a gigantic building. The stars aligned, funding fell into place, I signed approximately 4 billion documents guaranteeing my first born, my house, my breast implants and/or any “bonus” bodily organs until our loan is repaid.
I am not even being dramatic when I say I would rather watch an entire football game than read phrases like “Promissory Notes” “Loan Covenants” and “Interest Rates”. Yes. I am fully aware Suzy Orman would round-kick me in the vagina for trusting a man. Suzy- I assure you sister, this definitely wasn’t the case. I don’t trust ANYONE except Lisa, my esthetician, like you would seriously die if you saw how pretty my skin is. It is just that from everything I read on Web MD (before I got bored and took a Facebook quiz to see what color my aura is), I am your classic case of untreated ADD. *Incidentally, I also have cancer, AIDS and gonorrhea.
Now, had I actually read all the documents, I assume I would have been made aware that this new venture would force every fear and painful memory I had meticulously buried to magically resurface. The ink wasn’t even dry on the last document before I informed Mike that I was going back to work. At the office. At what was now MY office. Um yeah, if I was incurring this type of debt, then clearly I needed to get in there and start directing traffic. *Yes. The Earth does indeed rotate around me. That Spanish dude Ferdinand Magellan discovered it. Ask him.
I pridefully announced my intention and blatantly ignored the voice gently telling me this was not to be. I relied on my experiences of not having enough money growing up to further support my plight. I remembered choosing to go hungry, rather than face the burning shame of the “Homecoming Queen” having to stand in the free/reduced lunch line in high school. I recalled the time the unsympathetic people came to shut off our water.
I remembered my mom cleaning houses seven days a week and the frantic car rides to go pay the phone bill. I reminisced about how I would drive down from college every other weekend to help my mom clean office buildings and while scrubbing piss off a bathroom floor, I had silently vowed I was always going to “have” money. And since I had inadvertently and unknowingly created a storyline that I was somehow “less than,” I went to great lengths to maintain my facade of perfection. And once again, I reiterated I needed to go to work in MY building.
I victoriously watched the uncomfortable eye exchanges between Mike and our office manager when I declared I would be working there. After all, the building was MINE. And it wasn’t as though they could tell me no. I started countless fights with Mike. “This was YOUR idea.” “We were fine. Now we are in debt. I am going to have to work.” “I didn’t sign up for a lifetime of finanacial hardship when I married you.” Meanwhile, my daily affirmations of scarcity were bringing fear and anxiety in rapid abundance. And that is when it happened…
I tripped and fell while playing tag with my daughter.
And four months later, equipt with my brand new ACL, I finally got the message, only this time I chose to listen. “Gurl- You are moving in the wrong fucking direction.” (My Spirit and I just have this kind of relationship. I am pretty sure she is a large, loud, beautiful black woman with long, sparkly nails, who sings in one of those amazeballs Baptist gospel choirs when I am sleeping, and takes zero shit from anyone. She is always telling me things like, “Bitch- You need to calm your shit down or I will straight up knock your ass down” or “Buy those shoes; they make you look fiiiiine.” I seriously love everything about her.)
Sooooo yes, the actual physical building is “technically” mine, but the work to be done there is not. I am not the star of this show. The Universe has different plans for me and I lovingly accept this.
Money is simply a form of currency. It was never intended to be a measure of self-worth. The more I have flowing through my life, the more I can do for the world. That.Is.All. When I made this astounding revelation, my Spirit said, “Gurl- Now that’s what true abundance is about.” I told her thank you for not bitch slapping me. She just laughed obnoxiously, clapped her hands, and went back to watching “The Price is Right.”
So no… you will not see me sitting behind a desk when you come to have your smile bones cleaned at the new building. You will however, feel peaceful energy and be surrounded by love (especially if you have nitrous.) Annnnd I will probably be dropping by from time to time just to make sure life hasn’t ceased to exist…you know, without my almighty supervision. Love and Abundance to all my earth angels! XO