So last night I laid in bed and tossed and turned trying to figure all out – wallowing in my own sadness over so much. Our house, moving, leaving behind family and friends.
Suddenly, my dads’ voice popped into my head, “They can’t eat you.”
The other day I was talking to him about our move, how nothing seemed to be going right; from the short sale to finding a new place to live. I was sulky and whining. He looked at me, and said, (he’s a psychologist) “Honey, they can’t eat you. You might lose your home, you might lose it all. You may have to live somewhere crappy for a while. But you and Sam are healthy, so is Bella – a lot of people have much bigger things than a credit score to worry about. That’s nothing compared to Bella being sick, Sam losing his job. They might take all but they can’t eat you, they can’t eat Sam, or Bella.”
I giggled and knew what he meant, but what he was trying to say didn’t hit me fully.
Last night, laying there with all the stress compounding on me, it finally sank in.
This isn’t the end of the world. I’m not going to die because the house might not sell. We just give back to the bank, take a hit on our credit and keep rolling. We have each other, we are looking at cute apartments in the city, I don’t have to go back to work right away – it’s not that bad. I can’t change (or control) what’s happening – and believe me, I’m giving it my best shot – so I need to let go.
I’ve changed my outlook. Am I still sad? Yes, because I will miss my home and family. But this move isn’t the end of the world, nor should be controlling my life and emotions the way it has been.
As I lay in bed writing this, a healthy, happy Bella plays next to me. Sam is sleeping because it’s his day off from a job that pays our bills. I get to be at home and watch my daughter grow up. We love each other.
No matter what happens with this move, we’re a family. It will be ok. Good or bad credit, house or no house. They can’t eat us.