Things are bubbling along here south of nowhere. Nothing really shocking to tell you. I mean other than the fact that it's 108 degrees here today and that doesn't look like it's going to change anytime soon.
I fight with the grass each night. We are on watering restrictions so I have to hand water. I mean for the most part they're weeds, only a small patch in what I call the back yard...really a side yard that I've at great expense and personal effort installed carpet grass in.
This patch I won't lose. That patch cost me money. As a single mom, money is something so super precious I refuse to waste.
I flash back to another time in my life when waste was something I didn't think about except a fleeting thought from time to time at how disgusted my grandmother would be with me for not turning that laundry detergent bottle upside down to get every single last drop out of it.
That was another time. Despite my longing looks back at it, it was not perfect either. I may be a single mother, I may struggle but my kids and I aren't being abused here in this new incarnation of my life.
There are lots and lots of things in my life that make me feel stuck, but I've narrowed it down to two things that are pretty much crushing my soul. This office job. The farmhouse.
I have spent out on the real estate. My bank account reflects this. I can't as of yet act as a real estate agent. I'm in the space where they've taken my money but haven't issued the license as of yet.
It will come. Patience is something I struggle with in this aspect. I don't like being broke. I don't like that i've shelled out so much money, school clothes shopping is coming, my precious daughter wants to start practicing to drive, I only have the one car, I need so many things for that house none of which are more important than putting together an effing downpayment for literally ANY other house.
I think that in just a few days I'll have access to the MLS. The MLS will show me so many other options and even though my ex husband has a 100K tax lien that has somehow gotten completely interwined to my credit. I can do it in my dad's name. I can pay a mortgage. I can get insurance I can love the fuck out of a new house. I am blessed and thankful for this.
When you don't know what to do, you do what ever the first thing is that pops into your mind--even if it's scary.
The first thing in my mind? I swear to God, even after all the real estate stuff I still want to throw parties.
Not backyard barbeques. I want to throw parties for whole towns. Like festivals. I want to own a bar, have concerts and burgers and see people at their happiest with their friends and family. I desperately want this.
They say four weeks, If you give this a go and if it doesn't work out then go another direction. Real estate may take longer than that but what the hell, it's four weeks surely I can do that. Hell I've done much stupider things for four weeks.
I even named my real estate company Gorgeous Gatherings. I know it's a stupid name for real estate. The thing is that when I was in the mire I was not making any forward movement, somehow that name inspired me to get up and make some forward movement. At my very stuckiness, it was like a light that caught my attention and pulled me forward when I needed it the very most.
Why do I like that name? I have had a business under that name before. I own the .com although I haven't taken the time to get a website up and going. Mostly though, it has nothing to do with any of that. I always wanted to throw get-togethers. Not a party planner. Not a wedding planner. Not really any of that kind of thing, I want to own a venue like a few cabins on a river or a roadside bar and grill in the middle of nowhere where i can put up a dance floor and cover the sprawling oak trees in white lights and build a stage where local bands can come and play. A place where people can smile and laugh. I want to have a potluck style restaurant with good home cooking and a pre fixe menu so there's no stress. Steak night. Burger night. Brunch. Either that or just make the best damn plate of nachos in this county and sell those alone.
This is my dream. I know this. I knew this when my daughter was four and she wanted a Barbie themed birthday party. I stayed up for night after night after night making exotic paper flowers for guests to put behind their ear. I made a two story waterfall that guests walked through to get to the party. I created a pineapple and coconut bowling game. I made each guest a grass skirt. It was island barbie, the cake was on point, the party was magical. I loved every second of it.
I also loved planning my wedding. I loved planning my sister's too.
I think I deserve to give this a try. Five, four, three, two, one...I need to take some action towards it. After all I own the name, the dot com. The real estate is just occupying it, reminding me that it's my brand. It would definitely be more suited toward the events...gorgeous gatherings.
But for now I make the grown up decision. I talk to everyone that will listen about the real estate while I sit all day in my office at the insurance agency.
It's actually a decent source of leads. I'm still doing my job. It is my dad's agency anyway. They won't fire me, I am the sole salesperson here. Real estate is actually very compatible and will bring in policies as well. At least it did in my previous life as a realtor.
Whether it's a good idea or not I'm doing it and I just don't care what anyone else thinks about that right now. I deserve to get to do what I want to do.
I'm sick and tired of being a chicken. Too scared of failing to actually try anything at all. Overthinking, over analyzing...too much energy expended and no actual movement for years and years and years.
I'm sick and tired of being a jerk. Being jealous of other people who have better houses, better cars, better stuff.
My Nordstrom bag sits there on my computer full of the cutest stuff ever for their fall preview sale. Four hundred bucks and my fall wardrobe is on point, two pairs of boots, several shirts, two dresses. It's an investment in my new career I tell myself.
My ex husband sells real estate in cutoffs and tee shirts.
It's not an investment in my career. It's a way to make myself feel comfortable. Comfortable is not my friend right now.
I still have to shell out over $600 bucks for the Board of Realtors. There's like $700 in my account, plus the cash from a paycheck and another tomorrow in my wallet, plus a thousand in savings...not much at all when you boil it down. Not enough.
I've spent so much to get here. To get to this point right here where I am almost able to finally have a slight chance of getting the heck out of this rut I've been stuck in for so very long.
Nordstroms will have to wait. Though it hurts me to say it is the grown up decision. School clothes shopping is just around the corner for the kids. I should be doing it now as a matter of fact.
Nordstroms will have to be my reward for not sucking at real estate. I love Nordstroms. It might be a good why.
A better why is that my precious daughter would like to start learning to drive. I barely make bills each month. I have one car. The thought of letting her drive it scares me.
I mean even if I had ten cars I think I would be scared. She's my precious angel baby. Where did that time go??
I want to be able to get her the car she wants. I want to be able to give her everything she deserves. I could dig up and rewrite history to blame her dad fully for abandoning us here south of nowhere to a life of poorness. I've done that. I've blamed him. It's just the past is not going to help anything.
The only thing that is going to help me...realizing that no one is coming to help me. Resenting people for not helping me, resenting people for not doing what it is I think they should be doing when I don't tell them has gotten me no where. Ruminating gets me no where. What gets me somewhere is doing stuff to get me closer to where I want to be.
I sit here looking at my real estate card. The new one with the logo I designed, with the name I thought up, incorporated, paid for, picked out and waited for...for so, so long. It's here right this minute in my hand.
There are for sale signs stacked against my wall. Right there waiting. My new life is so close...I can tell you because I know I can trust you that I am terrified.
I try convincing myself instead that this is just excitement. I'm not terrified. I'm terribly excited.
This is what I will tell others though you'll know really. If you were to look at me, standing there in my not this season boots pretending to be terribly excited you'd see the fear around the edges i'm sure. I don't care.
I can't stay here. I won't stay here. Every single second I sit here at my Aunt's desk while she's away on vacation from my dad's insurance agency it kills me. Her calendar sits underneath this keyboard where she's written in her cursive handwriting all the hours we've missed. Chris -5 hours Monday, Julie -8 hours tuesday, Gloria -40 hours. They are totalled at the bottom of each month. Highlighted.
A phone call interupts this post, a man I don't know, a man I can barely understand calling into make a payment on his insurance policy.
This is what my life is. I'm a cashier whose time is clocked. Who has no more vacation time to take her kids anywhere before they go back to school and even if I did, no money to take them there.
This is why the real estate has to work.
I offer to my coworker, not a referral fee because that's illegal but instead to pay her to be my closing coordinator for $500 bucks a pop for anyone she knows looking, anyone wanting to sell. I'm hoping this will help.
I mentioned to another client who called in earlier that I'd gotten the license back up and going--he's a licensed broker as well. He was encouraging. He says I can do it. He tells me to pay out to the board of realtors to be featured on realtor.com. He tells me it's worth it. He wouldn't lie. He knows I'm a single mom. No threat to him anyway. Not like most other sales people who wouldn't help a competitor. I'm not competition to him because he got tired of not having enough inventory to sell a few years ago and he started GC'ing his own brand new homes. Getting paid twice, first as a realtor, then as a general contractor. He does a few a year. I do his builder's risk policies here at the agency. He was always my friend. He just calls here and lets me do them because we knew each other all my life, I do a good job at them, a fast job and he likes that. I do a lot of these policies.
I am interrupted again by another great person I consider a friend, they all are here south of nowhere because even though we are different ages, his sister grew up as my sister's best friend. His grandmother's sister taught me to sew. I could go on and on. He tells me he ran into my alcoholic ex earlier that day. Said he looks like shit. I don't know why that makes me happy. Oh wait. Three and a half years of abuse...while I don't wish him harm because I'm a good person. Somehow the thought of him suffering a bit, a fraction of the suffering he put me through makes me so happy.
This is where I am today as honestly as I can tell you. I hope for better tomorrow.