If the Bottom Really Dropped

I've had a lot on my mind since visiting my old friend that recently had the kidney transplant a few weeks ago. If ever there was a case scenario for resiliency when the bottom drops, she is certainly one. M's bottom has dropped so many times, it is miraculous there was enough left to her basket to even mend it anymore. Yet there she was, ready to put the kettle on like it was just any Tuesday afternoon and not a week past transplant. She is incredibly intelligent and kind hearted. I would not say she is naive or ignorant, but repeatedly either through decisions she has made, or decisions made by others, events occurred that stressed that bottom to the seams. She managed life as a single parent once in her late twenties, and then again, in her mid 40's, trying to co parent with a man who suffered from a wide range of mental health issues ranging from depression, to obsessive compulsion, to hoarding. 

Always living on the financial cliff, and at times, hanging on by a family or friend life line, due to a history of both under employment and many bouts of unemployment by she and her ex. While I understood why she left our company when she did, nothing that followed was stable. She has held onto her home through a wing and a prayer, but it is heavily mortgaged and under water. It also is in a constant state of disrepair and still shows the scars from her ex's hoarding. Her diagnosis of kidney failure a year ago coincided with a latest job lay off. Like the house though, she has strength and character that shines through the chipped paint, clutter, and need for repair.

 In our meet-up though, all she talked about in her life was framed in the positives. Even the last job loss, as she described, meant she had time to go to appointments and figure our her options. She has a boarder, Rafael, who is kind and helps with a few minor things around the house, and is good company. Her daughter, who has dealt with drug and alcohol abuse coupled with depression and anxiety, is doing  well now, living with her boyfriend in a small attic apartment in a house owned by her ex, working in a fast food restaurant and playing in a band. Her band even was featured on a radio program that had local Twin Cities artists-once. M casually mentioned that while her daughter is doing well herself, she just recently lost two friends through drug over doses. That alone would have shook me to the core as a parent, but her attitude was it was a tragic wake up call for her daughter. 

Her older daughter is teaching in Thailand, and the tea we drank when the kettle whistled was a gift from her. She misses her, but with the magic of Facetime, has weekly calls. M let me tackle washing her plastic Adirondack chairs so she could sit out back on the warm sunny days with her book and tea. Her back yard, like her house, was in disrepair, little to no grass, just  uneven patio pavers and dirt patches. An old car with no tires, a carry over from her ex who used to hoard cars for parts and to fix and resell, was in the parking space next to the ally garage. All M saw was the now cleaned chairs with a big smile on her face. 

What have I been thinking about then? How on earth would I have had the tenacity to live a life like hers and still be genuinely smiling at plastic chairs positioned on uneven pavement stone as if it was a luxury chaise in a botanical garden spa. I get consumed sometimes with managing our finances, and watching stupid spending, all in an effort to get my kid through school and retire at a reasonably early age so we can do more of the things in life we enjoy. But what if life throws us a series of curve balls, one on top of another, with no time to recover in between? What if DH lost his job tomorrow, or worse, since I carry our health coverage and my salary is about 35% more than DH, I did? How would we handle or support our children handling a crisis of their own, mentally or financially? How well would I accept the reality that a good cup of tea in my back yard will be the extent of my travel experience? While catching up with M was lovely, it sure left me feeling my approach to money saving, accumulation, and what living the good life is about has been avaricious. Hopefully, I haven't come across as materialistic and greedy. 

I'll still be writing about my love and wish for more travel. I just went on and on about travel three days ago in fact. I'll still write about the savings challenges and successes and blips, and I'll keep making sure we have that emergency account fully funded. Yet I can't deny I feel I should be more humble, more compassionate to myself and my family when it takes us longer than we want to reach a milestone, or take something off the list entirely. I need to  know all of our contingencies should the bottom drop out of our financial plan, but I can't let it consume me. I hope I see my friend more often than I have the last ten years, and join her in her back yard, or even better once she is up for it, a walk around Como Lake. I have my life and she has hers. We can be friends and I can still have my goals and dreams without feeling guilty when one is achieved. And, I can be more graciously accepting of the good in my life, no matter how small.