The Squeeze





Growing up, my parents never taught me about money.  They didn't teach me good things, and they didn't teach me bad things.  In fact, we never  talked about money.

My parents argued all of the time.  I really can't remember when they liked each other.  I don't remember ever knowing exactly what they were arguing about, but I suspect now, it had a lot to do with money, or the lack there of.

My grandmother always gave me money when she came over to see us.  I can remember finding money in books that she bought me, money slid in my hand when she would hold it, money slipped in my jacket pockets.  This happened until she realized that I would take that money and put it in my mother's purse.  Mom would always seem so thankful, and for a minute... I felt loved.

My mother would take us to the grocery store on payday and we would peruse the aisles choosing whatever we wished and would throw it in the basket.  every two weeks.  Cookies, chips, snacks, pop, candy, etc.  Never would she have a list, never would she have a menu, never would she have any plan at all.  She would never ever, ever, ever  look at a price.  It was food, we needed it, she would buy it.

My dad would never mention it (in front of me) and as long as he had enough money for gas to get to work and lunches (he always packed) he was happy.  He never gave me money, never bought me things, or rewarded me with money.  It just didn't happen.

Fast forward to today.

I am a financial nightmare.  there, I said it... OUTLOUD!!!

I have no concept of money.  To me, it is just paper that is used to buy things I want and sometimes things I need.  If I run out, we will get more.  I can't take it with me, right?

Yes, I know how stupid that sounds.  I really do.  However, this is all I know and this is all I have ever known.   Remember, I wasn't taught.  That is not to be an excuse, but well... it is what it is.

Kevin and I have really been talking a lot about our finances.  Our feelings about what we each want to be able to do, and how to get there.  For example, Kevin is currently studying for the MCAT, which means medical school is on the horizon.  In order for that to happen, we must get our act together and get something ironed out and in place.  I don't believe that I need to provide each and everything that my kids want or will ask for, but I do believe it is my job to provide most of those things.

All of that to say, I am researching budgeting systems.  How strict, what kind, etc.


To be Continued...

Walking away.

worst blogger ever- checking in  :)


Last week, I received a message that one of my previous drivers was in an accident and died.  He was young, crazy, loud, full of life, and I immediately missed him.  He and his wife both had their CDL and drove as a team. Whenever we needed anything to be delivered the next day, we would call the Cross'.   It was such a sad day to hear of this tragedy.

I am the person who wears my emotions on my sleeve.  What you see, is what you get.  I fight hard when I need to fight.  I play hard when I need to play.  Unfortunately, when I am tired, or confused, or sad, or scared, or embarrassed -  I walk away.

I walked away after high school.  I knew I wouldn't be attending college like all of my friends would be, so I just cut off communication.  I would stay in Slick and not call anyone.  I found someone who I thought made me happy, and spent 100% of my time with him.  We were so young, and both looking for something the other would never be able to provide.  So... we got married.

My two closest childhood friends were in my wedding.  I went almost 10 years from that day without talking to her.  I just walked away.

I knew I didn't want to get married, but I didn't know how to say so.

When we ended our relationship- I moved to Tahlequah.  I moved to my parents house, looking for something they should have given me from day one, but never would.  Unconditional love. My mother convinced me to take out student loans, apply to NSU, and live in the dorms.  Sounded great to me :)  A fresh new start, right?

I started college as a 20 year old freshman who had been married, divorced, worked, and experienced bills.  I could not connect with the other students I was grouped with.  My parents were friends with the housing coordinator, and thought they were doing me a favor by giving me a single room with no roommate.  Looking back- that only added to the feelings of solitude.
I fought- but in the end... I quit.  I left.  I ran away.  I didn't even take the time to withdraw from my classes.
I walked away.

Fast forward to my life now.  I haven't walked from some tough things.  There are times I should have walked, but didn't :)

That was, until October 2010.  I walked away from LinkAmerica.

I had worked at Link for 7 years.  I loved my job, I loved the people with whom I worked for, both drivers and management.  I loved my customers, both drivers and companies.  I worked very hard and worked my way up to a management position, which was very difficult without a bachelors degree and being a woman.  LinkAmerica was my family.
One day, I was asked to complete an assignment.  I was asked to compile the financials for the previous day. A 24 hour P&L snapshot so to speak.  I felt I could do it, I attempted it.  It was wrong.  I emailed the wrong statement to the entire management and looked like a fool.   I received an email from the VP, at the time feeling like a virtual slap.  I hit my wall.   I walked.

I haven't been back to LinkAmerica since the day I walked out of the doors.
I miss my family.
I miss my job.
I miss my best friend who I haven't even texted back.

I went 14 months before even adding anyone from there to my Facebook account.  I just walked away, buried it in my mind and went on with life.

Then Randy died.

I saw some of the people who I walked away from, they smiled.  When the service was over, they came up to me and asked how I was doing.  They asked questions and were interested in the answers.


I am struggling today. I am struggling with the fact that I walked away.  That I seem to walk.
I like to believe that I wear my feelings on my sleeve, that I am an open book.  I am not.  There is a lot inside that needs to come out.

What a heavy post to start back with.... maybe it's what needs to happen?