I was in a planning class recently. I’ve been going to a few of them as the end of the year comes to a close and I’ve been making major life changes – quitting smoking, quitting GCM, quitting my job at The Road House. And planning has NEVER been my strong suit. I know how to plan in theory, but I have yet to do the work.
I have historically skipped the work. And I’m trying to be really careful in describing that flaw to keep it in the past sense. I’m tired of that part of me. I don’t want to be the creative dreamer. I want to be the fucking doer. The witch who gets shit done and enjoys herself doing it.
So back to this planning stuff. I’ve compiled a few resources and am mixing together tools from a variety of different sources – so that I can really nail this and accomplish more than what I dream in 2014.
One of them (Business in Blue Jeans/Best Year of Your Life/Finish Your Year Before It Starts) really hit on a concept I have heard a kazillion times before but never did the work to really define.
Only she was asking us to think of the end of next year 2014 and I felt the urge to go beyond that. Especially once she showed the graphic of the park bench with the tombstones! That hit me hard and made me think of previous dreams and thoughts I’ve had about the the end of my life (whenever that may be and I hope it’s not before I have the time I need to accomplish what I want).
I’ve verbalized this dream to a few people. But I don’t think they believed me. Or thought I could do it.
And maybe I can’t. But I sure as hell don’t think I ought to let the fact that I might not do it stop me from trying. That would be kind of stupid.
So the whole thing is inspired by my mother…and her mother before her. I’m the first amongst the three of us to drive. I learned at thirty-five.
We all left “emotionally challenging” relationships after more than twenty years. That’s the new-fangled way to say abusive, I’m told. Because there’s two sides to every story and some of your actions may have qualified as abusive too. Whatever.
We all survived the emotional torture that marriage can sometimes be when the partner is a control freak or an alcoholic or tortured soul. We all escaped to some extent. Of the three of us, only I’ve moved on to a new love in this lifetime.
When my mom died, the people came and talked of this woman who was generous and kind, a good cook who loved to share – a smile on her face in bright coloured clothing.
Yes, the same woman who at points in her life ventured close to 500 lbs. The one who was a schizophrenic (or manic depressive or bi-polar with schizophrenic tendencies depending on which part of her life and diagnosis that you entered). The one who lived with a man who murdered his wife for at least 20 years – she only was independently living for the last eight years of her life or so.
So – back when I was a teenager and I lived with her – she told me a dream she had. Her plan. When her common law husband died she was going to get his house and his assets. Or so she thought. Whether it was or not, we’ll never know as she died before he did and it was a moot point. At least as far as that house and those assets…but I’ve always felt it a shame that the dream had to die.
And it hasn’t – it’s just kind of morphed with me.
See – she wanted turn that house into a home for teen moms. A group home where they could go to school while pregnant and get support and childcare once the baby arrived. Someplace that would be a stepping stone towards independence.
I don’t know if my mom had any clue what a monstrous task it would be to have made it happen quite that way. But that was her dream.
And mine morphed from that…
I dreamed of buying the campground that I used to spend Friday nights at – falling asleep in the living room as my grandparent’s played crib or bridge or some sort of card game I was too young to understand at the time. The one place on the planet I felt safe and content – I understand now that it’s not the place that’s important – but that it becomes a place that people come and feel safe and content.
And at that campground there would be courses for single moms – about camping things (so they can share with their kids and enjoy time in nature because that’s really important I believe and so did mom) and about business (because single moms don’t have to be relegated to poverty if we can give them practical skills) and about parenting (because we aren’t born with the skills to nurture and inspire our offspring when we get ourselves or are born into abusive situations)
So at the end of my life, I want that to be started. Somewhere. The Island and that particular campground if I can make it happen – but somewhere else if I can’t or my life’s direction doesn’t take me back there. Or if I can get there sooner if I don’t rely on that destination.
I can’t move for 7 more years.
In leaving my husband, I took that option away from myself…even if at some points the children choose to come live with me – I can’t really move until visitation years end. So there’s that.
I want to leave behind a huge self sustaining charity entity that provides self reliance programs for single moms as a gateway to freedom for families.
You can see why people get a bit skeptical when I’ve brought it up.
I’m working on how to get there from here.
But maybe I better start with 2014 – because someone over the head in debt, with little cash and no job – better get their ass immersed in the basics before trying to change the world.
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