Emotional rollocoaster

Photo by Ben Schumin

Photo by Ben Schumin

(I wrote the text below early this summer after two intence days and nights)

We didn’t buy a house today.

We still had a pretty good margin, but in the end it was no longer a question of dollars and cents, but a question of life.

Will we be able to sleep at night knowing that we have no more than 100$ or so each month when all the essentials (food, the house…) are payed for?

Will we be able to see our kids on the weekdays or will they fall asleep on the way home from kindergarten?

Will we be able to take chances? To go to university at 33? Start up a business without burning the midnight oil? Take a last minute vacation to the sun or snow ‘cause we feel like it?

Will we live or will we exist?

My stomach has been quesy. My heart beats faster each time we raise. It falls to the pit of my stomach when someone else reraises. My head spins at the sums of imaginary, soon to be real, money thrown around.

When the rollocoster finnaly stops and we get of at the place we started, I stumble out. Not quite sure how to feel for a moment, then feeling steadily lighter, feeling alive.

I am alive.

I am still alive.

Still free to live the life I want. With the people I love. Owning my time.