So angry…

For the first two weeks I just pretended he was dead.  I made my own plans, ignored that he needed to eat dinner when he got home, took care of all the kids’ needs and didn’t give much to report at night.

The third week I silently stewed, listing off every inconvenience and “woe is me” item I could think of in my head.  I play the victim really well.

The fourth week, I raged.  I raged about the loneliness of being alone with the kids every single morning, when they get up at 6:30 on a good day, 5:45 on a bad one.  I raged about needing to pay for our lives and the ridiculousness that a resident’s salary doesn’t even cover our rent (they are actually doctors you know).  I raged about him not appreciating me enough.  I raged that he doesn’t have a perfectly laid out plan for the rest of his 30 year career.  I yelled and cried and punched pillows and felt completely and utterly boxed in.  

And then I couldn’t believe it had only been a month, the longest month of my life and we had eleven more.  I couldn’t continue like this. The anger was killing me, it made Jonathan feel unsupported and the kids uneasy.  

All I could see was all the injustice around me, but when I took a step back, I was the one creating the suffering.  

I dug deep and started the origin of all healing: choice.

I had a choice.  We always do.  Did I want Jonathan to do this last year of residency or not?

It would be easy for me to say he has to do this, but the truth is that he could quit, any time.

But then I thought… I want him to be a doctor, and quitting would mean that he wouldn’t be board certified or have the training he needed.  I know he will have a lifetime of job security and most importantly, that man is meant to be a doctor.  I’ve never met someone with a bigger heart, more drive or the need for so little sleep.  

So I decided that I wanted him to stay in residency. This may seem like an obvious choice, but being IN CHOICE around it gave me so much space for healing.

After choice comes: What’s in it for me?  What am I meant to learn here?  

This one came easily to me now that the anger and victimization were gone.  This year is all about Motherhood and Money.

Motherhood in learning to be present, understanding how I want to parent and the specific lessons my kids and I are here to teach each other.

Money is so, so, so tricky.  I’ve been good at making it, but terrible at being in relationship with it.  It makes me uncomfortable, pissy, overwhelmed and shaky.  I just want out of money, so I dreamed about the day when I didn’t have to deal with it any more, when Jonathan could just handle everything and I could do my work for fun and sure, make money, but just have it to spend on fun things like throw pillows and pretty dresses.  It’s like being married to Prince Charming when he’s still a frog and just waiting for the day he gets his castle so I can start my glass slipper collection instead of paying rent.  

But then I woke up.  My issues with money have nothing to do with who’s making it, it has everything to do with my own learning edge and relationship to money.  I realized that if I didn’t clean up my stuff I was going to project the fear and overwhelm right onto Jonathan when we start sharing the load.

Next, I got to work. I read Soul of Money, The Art of Money and Getting to 50/50.  I journaled, talked it out, prayed and meditated.  I’m learning so much.  I’m learning I’m not alone even when I feel alone. I’m learning the power of gratitude. I’m learning to appreciate Jonathan for the incredible work that he does. I’m learning to be with the noise, emotions and poop that motherhood brings.  I’m learning that Jonathan does so much for us in the little time he has. I’m learning that space is my highest currency right now.

So I’m wondering, are you angry?  If so, great.  Scream and cry and punch pillows. Get out those emotions because if they stay in your body it will cause resentment and disease and extra weight.  When you are empty and drained from all of the crying, remember you have a choice. The choice is always very, very, very hard, and never feels like a choice at all, but you have one, make it. Then ask, what’s in it for you? What are you meant to learn?  How could this terrible week, year or life be the exact, perfect thing your soul needs to be truly happy?  Show up for the big lesson and get.to.work. Get a book recommendation, talk to someone who’s been through this, go to therapy, hire a coach, join a program like Live More Weigh Less and show up for the lesson every day.  Before you know it, you’ll feel grounded, content and comfy, even though life looks exactly the same as it did when this all started.

Love,

Sarah

P.S. I’d love to hear what you’re angry about in the comments below and any clarity of choice or lesson that comes up with a result.  And please send this to a friend who’s on this journey with you, we need each other.