This has been a week of big conversations between Mr.Monkey and I, conversations about the future and the present and where our lives are going. These are, of course, good conversations to have but I realized tonight, as I sat exhausted on the couch, that I’ve been feeling really anxious all week.

I was walking around the store the other day, looking at things I want but can’t buy, when I started feeling shaky and hot. My heart was beating rapidly and I suddenly felt like I was going to cry. I’ve never had a panic attack and I don’t know if this brief incident would count as that, but as I took some deep breaths and closed my eyes and composed myself, I realized that I was feeling anxious about money.

I don’t know if it is a side-effect of growing up with very little money but sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever not worry about money. I worry about getting fired, about Mr.Monkey getting fired, about the hit that are credit scores are taking because of the short sale process on our house in Arizona, about the financial mistakes I’ve made in the past, about our almost 12 year old car (with almost 140,000 miles on it) and how much longer it will last, about saving for retirement. I know Mr. Monkey and I doing the best we can and are making good choice but the fear lingers. I pay the bills every month and take a deep, grateful breath every month that we’ve kept the wolf from the door for another month.

It is ridiculous and unproductive, these feelings. I know that more than anything else what my financial situation needs more than anything is patience, patience to chip chip chip away at my student loans and drop all our extra pennies into our piggy bank. I just kind of hate being patient sometimes.


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