"It Felt Safe"

So again, theoretically, let us say I am in therapy.

Say it with me, slowly, therapy.

Let us say that money and the lack of it occupies a great deal of the therapeutic conversation. 

Theoretically, I can distinctly remember the therapists saying, "Money matters."

This isn't news. 

You don't have to be a marriage counselor or divorce lawyer to know that money, and the lack of it, plays a huge role in divorce. 

Again, not news.

Theoretically, what therapy recently did for me was point out how unsafe I feel, not having money.

Theoretically of course, I was explaining how during the first Fall semester of the pandemic (hopefully the last Fall semester of the pandemic) I no longer had to commute the three hours each day (saving on gas) but also picked up a whopping three courses to teach at the local community college. I explained that my bank account exploded. Now of course, this is relative, most people making any real money will not think of my checking account as "exploding." But as someone who has lived paycheck to paycheck for most of my life, this was for me, a lot.

The therapist asked me how this felt. 

I thought about this for a second. Then it hit me, the one and only correct answer among many.

"It felt safe."

I felt safe. Safe enough that if some car repair was needed, I wouldn't be ruined. Safe enough to buy some xmas presents for my family without going into the usual funk/depression/anger that xmas causes. Safe enough to buy fruit every week without worrying that I shouldn't be buying fruit because of the cost. Safe enough to buy books to read without hating myself after, knowing some bill would need to be paid.

Safe.

And as I was thinking about all this last night (the therapist told me I might overthink things, to which I told him maybe I just think about things the right) I realized that part of the reason I seemed to enjoyed life in Athens more (read felt safer) was because I knew that if I had to, I could walk to work if I had to. A car and its upkeep would not ruin me in Athens. I could walk to work and get groceries on foot if I had to. 

I explained to my therapist that my wife now realizes that I become a different person when I take my car to get serviced. It feels unsafe. I am in danger. The bill will ruin me. I have no control. I won't be able to pay it. I have no money.

For a little while, teaching three courses, not commuting three hours a day, I felt safe. 

Well, the cushion of money is practically gone but I still don't have to commute. I am back to a state of teetering on financial and ergo, complete ruin.

Being a George Carlin devotee, I know that safety is an illusion. 

So I tell myself that I felt safer, when I had my little bit of money. Safer than not having it. 

So the real question is, can I enjoy life without feeling safe?