It's Not About the House

House Envy---

It's ugly, petty, beneath me, and merely a distracting symptom from the real issue.

I'm not a monetarily successful middle aged woman. Meaning, I did not succeed at a high-paying, high-powered job, was not "old money", didn't inherit it, marry it or work to support a man who would reward me with establishing a lucrative practice then bequeath me a hefty divorce settlement and child support---god, I did it all wrong. Can this pitiful life be saved? Is it too late now?

Some of my friends have politely asked me how the lunch with long-lost Jasmine Tree Girl went, what's next now, are the edges mended?

It's been two weeks already, and I'm finally almost done sorting through all the upturned earth that day left behind for me, and seeing what's there. And like I said, it's not about the house, and I'm not jealous of her (though I have been in the past), it's about seeing my life in her mirror of success and being much more Shabby than Chic after traveling much of the same road with her, we began in the same place, in the same restaurant kitchen job. We made such different choices and arrived in the same town again, but it looks so differently. I mean, a woman doesn't usually say to herself, 'Wow, how can I financially sabotage my life? Let's do this,' does she? I never did anyway, but I also very seldom said, 'What is the Biggest Money route here? I'll do that,' either.

J.T.G.'s new house is a 1920's bungalow showcase. She and her husband have slaved on it for over a year, and they've done a beautiful job. He brought funds, she already owned a house, they combined strengths and created this dream home. I loved it, and can see the labor of love and commitment it is, they have fine taste, and have made it their home together. Both of them have jobs that take them away from it for such long days, that it's their retreat and sanctuary on Sundays when they cocoon and sleep. They nurture each other there and it shows in each unique detail of cabinet, glass, color, fabric and light.

Is this what they call "settling down"? Adulthood? I told a friend that for a while I felt like I had walked into an episode of "thirtysomething" and was the impractical, whimsical artsy chick and Hope's older sister and I were chatting while Hope was making tea in the stainless-cherry-granite kitchen Michael had restored with Craftsman details. It felt like a long winter afternoon to me, and I left at 4:30. With an entire fallow meadow overturned in my soul, what does it mean, how did we arrive at such different places, what would I have done differently, what is this going to look like now, what do I want to do with this? It is and it isn't about the house, it's the paths to the house that I'm analyzing, and I'm not resolved yet about it.

School is 100% of my headspace right now, and that afternoon has receded into the mid-winter murk somewhat. No, I didn't give her my blog address, and we've only exchanged one email each since then, everything is open-ended and friendly. We've both moved on quite a distance, so it remains to be seen what's next. Finishing my degree is so much more than merely fulfilling credits to an end goal, and I'm reminding myself every day over and over that this is really happening, really really happening, my 'Student, Interrupted' phase is getting mended, healed, fixed-up, revived. This is such a huge thing to me, in some ways I'm 19 again, then I catch a glance in the Success Mirror and see what the rest of the world sees, and it stops me cold. Still have much to sift through, I guess, and school is the best vehicle to do it.