I’m 24 hours away from becoming a single parent for a period of 2 to 4 months. I’m hoping for 3 max, of course. Last night Dennis said “Just say the word and we’ll abort”, so I said “Ok, let’s abort”, and then we laughed. It was a silly game at what if. It would be really stupid if we aborted now after everything we have psyched ourselves up for. Of course, we are going to follow thru with the plan!
Now there is a chance I will be getting a job working remotely for a company which will slow the entire process of getting the house ready for sale. But given the state of our bank account, I think it would be dumb not to take it. Hopefully most of the work will be done between now and when I will have to start the job. I’m leaving it in the hands of fate. If it’s meant to be, I will get the job. If it’s not, then I won’t. Whatever happens there, I will accept. There are major plusses and minuses to either outcome, but I think the plusses outweight the minuses.
My biggest obstacle when it comes to accomplishing an important goal has always been myself. That’s true for everyone, of course, but I have sabotaged myself more times than I have helped myself so the chances it will happen again are worrisomely high. I’m hoping that this knowledge and my fear of a repeat will be the key to serving myself for once.
I’ve played out both extreme opposite outcomes in my head.
Worst case scenario:
I freak the fuck out over everything and shut down and go hide in my room watching movies and TV series day after day. I lose my patience with my kids on a nightly basis and make them miserable, angry, and sad. I get an offer for this job after a couple weeks and I’m so overwhelmed by all that I haven’t done that I think I can’t take the job and end up turning it down. I convince myself and Dennis that it’s for the best because I need to focus on selling this house and moving to Texas. I finally start doing some work around the house all the while feeling guilty that I let things slide so much that I couldn’t handle taking the job. Christmas starts knocking on the door and suddenly I’m forced into action because I feel as if the world is coming to an end. I give away or throw away all the things I could have sold to make some cash. The house is finally put on the market months after we had planned, I’ve put on more pounds of self loathing, the packing is chaotic, I settle for a moving company at the worst rate possible out of desperation, I settle on a bad offer on this house, and I limp to Texas with the kids in the car feeling like a complete failure and an idiot for setting myself up for success failure in Texas by fucking myself over so thoroughly and forcing myself to start my life there with major feelings of self loathing instead of great feelings of empowerment and a belief that I my control over my own life has improved. It wouldn’t be the first time I had fucked myself over like that. I have been fucking myself over like that for the last several years and this move was supposed to be a chance at facing my fears, cleaning the slate, and doing the work. But I have just failed. Again. There is no hope for me at this point and it’s likely from here on out that anti-depressants and a divorce are in my future.
Best case scenario:
I continue to put the work on my moving journal which I have created to lay out how packing will be organized (by color). I use this system to identify all the items that need selling, donating, and trashing. I start and maintain a detailed inventory list for everything that is getting moved, and I complete my search for the right moving company and I make a deposit and have them on standby. I work daily to ensure that all items on my sell list are sold, all items on my trash list are trashed, and all items on my donate list are donated. The house gets put on the market on schedule and I’m offered the remote job which I accept. Even if I am not done with all the work when it’s offered, I feel 100% in control and feel confident that I can handle the job and work on the remaining packing/selling/donating after hours and on weekends. Even if things get hard, my frustration level is low enough to keep me from murdering my kids each day when they push those buttons they push. The happier they are, the less buttons they push. Once the house is on the market, I feel good enough about everything that is done and the time left to play with (and the fact that I’m making an income) that I am not going to accept a shit offer for this house if one is given, even if we sell it as-is. It’s a good house and I’m not desperate. Even if selling takes longer than we’d hoped for, we feel confident enough to rent a house ahead of the sale and may even take a 3-4 day vacation to Texas to work on getting it furnished and so the kids can see Dennis, and get excited about their new house. Once the old house sells everything is ready and we pack up whatever is remaining and head off. I arrive in Texas, whether I love it or hate it, with a sense that life can be good and with a new confidence in myself and a belief that my days of fucking myself over are over.
Best and worst scenarios. Either one is possible and even if it ends up being something in between, I think my actions are what matters most. If I don’t get the job, if we don’t get a good offer, if it takes longer than we’d like to sell, if I don’t have the patience I’m going to need to keep me from murdering my kids… that’s all variable and what happens will happen and won’t really affect how I feel about myself. Well, maybe not getting the job will, but that falls under the category of “out of my control”.
I know what I need to do, but the question is will I do it? I’m tired of self-evaluating why I do or don’t do what I do or don’t do, so I won’t. At this point and after all this time I just know it’s a matter of doing versus not doing. How it all turns out will depend on how big of a coward I am and whether or not I have the courage enough to face my fears of failure.
It is very intriguing how a fear of failure will keep me from trying to keep from failing. For being a highly analytical human being, I sure suck at self-analysis. Ever heard of Morita Therapy? After I read up on that is when I stopped trying to analyze my motives and just DO shit or not DO shit. There is no try. (Or analysis)