Anyone can find the dirt in someone. Be the one that finds the gold.
A catch up with a frenemy revealed more than I wanted to know. Besides seeing my own narcissism reflected back to me in the mirror that was our fragile relationship, I saw the gold digger within me. My frenemy rubbed me the wrong way, dug deep and found dirt. One of the things I judge myself on is my inability to earn an income from my writing and being dependent on my partner who’s the breadwinner and a very good provider at that.
No one can make you feel bad about something that you’re not already ashamed of.
When I started to analyse my irritation at my frenemy for pointing out correctly that I’m not financially independent, I found a part of my personality that’s materialistic. In the U.S., I became conditioned that it is the single most important responsibility of the individual to attract an income and pay taxes. In many modern societies, a person’s worth is closely tied with how much money they earn. I also tend to associate paying taxes with being a good upstanding citizen. It is the taxpayers’ money that funds public services like education, healthcare, the welfare system, public transportation, infrastructure and services like garbage collection, recycling and protection of parks, waterways and many others that largely go unnoticed by the average person.
What I never considered was that my presence in our household is a public service. I don’t sit around and write all day every day, though I’m tempted to. And why should there be anything wrong with that? When I see things that need to be done around the house, I start doing them because the value of living in a clean house is so well-entrenched in my personality. I don’t pass a dirty dish without putting it in the sink, taking out the washed dishes or doing the laundry, ironing, sweeping the floors, putting out the garbage, watering the plants and taking care of anything that needs a little TLC around the house. It’s all done in a joyful manner that no paid housekeeper could ever provide.
Such is my conditioning and my situation supports my need to write for my own sanity. I’m very fortunate. This is not a whinge piece about how hard life is for a stay-at-home mum in a upper middle-class neighbourhood. I get to spend time on my writing and in my home, making it appealing for my partner and children and I get to spend quality time with my children (though sometimes I feel the tyrant within me rising in my interactions with them and creating ugly tantrums).
Sometimes I waste time thinking that my writing is never going to stack up to a professional writer’s or that my art isn’t as pure as that of the struggling artist who has to work many odd jobs to make ends meet. Fortunately, there are times when I manage to go a little deeper and find my inner gold, my awareness, and air it out in pieces like this. Then I can keep writing like there’s no tomorrow and no dirty dishes in the sink.
It is only after confronting my inner gold-digger that I can begin to market my services for anyone who might need a little helping hand developing a regular writing practice.
There’s gold within everyone. If you need a little help digging, I’m here.
Over to you…
How has being materialistic helped you get the material things you desired? I love my Yoga mat from Lululemon and my handcrafted Thai teapot from The Fair Trade Cove. My partner’s money got me those and he’s happy to provide such lovely pieces for our home and my peace of mind.