Ramblings on living and loving a man with a brain disease called alcoholism.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Scared of Monsters
By the light of a new day, my fears about buying the house feel much more manageable. Last night, I felt swallowed up by enormous monsters of irrational fear; fear of losing my life savings, fear of making the wrong choice, fear of markets crashing, the world imploding, the seas rising...
Steve stayed patient with me. When he came to bed we talked and he held me and I calmed down. I don't have to worry about our relationship. He's sober. I'm committed. We've worked through a lot of shit and made it. And when I think about my future, he's always in the picture. He's my family, and I love him with all my heart and soul.
The house is the right price. It's in the right location. It has everything we want. I don't know what else will come onto the market. But I don't want to lose our chance at this place while we wait for something better to come along. We've looked at a lot of houses, and this one fits us BOTH.
It feels like jumping off a cliff, taking a LEAP into the unknown, betting it all on one hand. It's easy to take risks when the consequences are small or unknown.
I remember riding an amusement park ride where you're lifted straight up in the air and then dropped straight down. That rush of anti-gravity was so exhilarating, that I stood in line over and over again. My freshman year in college, I walked out the door of the dining hall carrying one of the heavy, wooden dining hall chairs, past the old ladies watching the students to make sure we didn't smuggle food, and brought it across the quad to my dorm room. To me, it was a minor thrill. My friends were shocked and awed. Last month I called a competing business and pretended to be a potential client to find out pricing information for my coworker. These are the small risks that I have no problem making. My actions don't affect anyone but me, and the consequences don't hurt anyone.
This action, buying our first home, requires me to be brave in a whole other way. It's a commitment to our future. It's exciting and exhilarating as an amusement park ride, but without the guarantee of a safety harness. I'm praying about it, and slowly feeling more certain, more ready, more excited.