I recently read an article about how writers and bloggers can afford to do what they do. About how some writers attribute their success to really hard work or years of unimaginable struggle when, sometimes, other factors like independent wealth or awesome connections played a rather pivotal role alongside hard work, struggle, and pure dumb luck. The point is that the author of the article felt the need to be honest about how she could afford to write – because her husband has a solid job, generous income, great benefits, paid vacation, travel opportunities, and he supports her work and dreams; financially and emotionally.
The candid approach of her article really hit me.There have been countless articles and posts and hash-tags shared over the past several years about real life – #honestmoments, as they’re often labeled. The need for us to be honest with one another about our lives, rather than simply let the rose-colored lens of facebook or instagram or our blog posts paint us as always cheerful, generous, successful, fulfilled and happy people. Sometimes we’re not those things. And sometimes we are those things, but because other factors have allowed that to happen for us, which can – to some people – be a price tag all of its own. Regardless, everybody sacrifices and nobody’s life is perfect and these moments of honesty can unite us. We all struggle, we all have a little help sometimes, and being real about it instead of covering it up can help us connect when the world feels like a lonely or false place.
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As I was reading this article in the kitchen over my lunch break one bleak Monday, I was feeling particularly blah. Blue, simultaneously overwhelmed and underwhelmed, tired, sluggish, feeling like every day was the exact same as the day before with no change in sight, sick of a bitter and frigid winter but feeling like the joys of summer are so completely out of reach, and just generally feeling lost and out of touch. Maybe for that reason, this article struck a chord in me – I was in just the right mood to read it and get something meaningful out of it. As someone who’s life has undergone a pretty drastic change from this time last year to where I stand now, I could appreciate this author’s need to share a real deal aspect of her life. It’s important that we all know that life can be wonderful and awful at the same time. Or it can be wonderful. But all that wonderful may come at a price. Or it can be miserable but have rare, bright shining moments that help make it bearable.
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I won’t go into all the details but last February we were together in the same city (finally) and happy and I loved my job, but Ted was still searching for the right job and we were stupid poor and constantly worried about how we’d pay our rent and afford medications. We didn’t want to be rich, or even well off. We just wanted to have steady, joyful work in our career fields and be able to afford the “needs” – and maybe even an occasional “want” too.
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This February, with a very unexpected opportunity that came about late last spring, we are – for the first time in our married lives – still frugal, but by intention rather than by a dire need to be frugal. We can pay for the “needs” and then a few small “wants” too. We’ve gotten to travel and see more of the world and our dreams of one day buying a house, having a pet, traveling, and retiring seem a little more like they might actually stand a chance – and that feels really, really good. I still love my job and I have completely amazing friends I delight in spending time with, and Ted now has a good job in his career field – all of which is great. But it doesn’t come without a sacrifice. It’s coming at a price. And it’s really, really hard sometimes. And every single day I struggle with these adjustments and their worth.
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I’m not ungrateful. Quite the opposite in fact. But this is – just for a moment – a real glimpse at my life. This is what it looks like when you remove the rose-colored lens of my facebook page, instagram account, and even this blog that shows dinners out with friends, camel treks from our travels in the Arabian desert, and hundreds of other snapshots and words about people, a job, and a city I really, truly do adore. But in exchange for all of this – and this is what facebook and instagram and blog posts don’t usually tell you – there’s also a fair share of heartache, loneliness, worry, second guessing, doubt, blah days, struggle, and nostalgia for our old poor-but-blissful newlywed life in Cincinnati.
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This isn’t a request for pity, sympathy, praise, or anything else. It’s an attempt at real, human connection. We all have real lives behind our social media accounts, smiles, witty banter, and “I’m fine, how are you’s?”- real lives that are sometimes rosy and sometimes not – and usually both at the same time. Often, it’s only after the fact that we realize a friend needed a hug two Thursday’s ago or that the co-worker who always appears so confident and put-together feels like their life is a mess. And being honest about it, even for a few brief moments, has the power to bring us together.
