panic

People articulate the steps of change differently. Some experience abxiety before making a decision, some after, some both before and after, some not at all.

Here is how I do it.

I waffle around seemingly aimlessly in prayer-laden chaos, taking care of business until what feels like the right path emerges. If it is right, a way to commit to it becomes obvious. I see the way. I get excited and buoyant. I make the commitment. The reality sinks in.

Then I panic.

This is where I am about the move to Massachusetts. I have every reason to know in my heart and soul that this is the right move. But now all the anxieties I spared myself in the decision process are blossoming like toadstools after a rain. I am awash in "what-if's". What if the very first house I ever buy has horrible problems and I end up homeless on the street?

It can happen. I watch Oprah. I've seen it.

What if something happens to my finances and everything collapses? That is the big one.

Whenever I hit the crippling money anxiety I know what I need to do. I need to throw money away.

You heard me: I need to throw money away.

Here is how I learned that. (Caveat - this is a lesson which should be made possible in all countries, but it is not -- yet.)

When I was married and we were both in graduate school, one of the lovliest moments between my now ex-husband and me happened (of all places) in a shopping mall. We had just finished buying something essential like socks, and I had seen a little trinket that I liked. It cost $20. In those days that was not a trivial sum at all. It was about all we had until the next week's paychecks. No big deal. We continued to wander around. My then husband said he needed to find the Gent's room, and that I should sit at this bench and wait for him, which I did. In a few minutes, he arrived back, with a gift wrapped tiny box in hand that contained the little trinket I had admired.

"B...b....ut I can't keep this! We can't afford it! We are broke!" I said, tearing up. He had been so sweet, but we could not afford this.

"Well, you were right honey," he said. "If we were poor we could not afford this. So now that we have it -- I figure we are not poor anymore!"

I kept the gift. I kept the learning, too.

So now when I am feeling anxious about money, and when I forget the abundance in the world, I reach in the bottom of my purse -- grab whatever coinage is there, hopefully a hunky handful, and throw it away. I always throw it where someone will find it, trusting the universe to bring money and person together.

I have thrown it out car windows, dropped it in elevators and supermarkets, flung it in parking lots, sprinkled it on sidewalks.

I know when I have thrown enough away when I stop feeling anxious.

After all, if my life were near financial collapse, could I throw money away??

I don't give it away -- as that seems like bargaining with God. I throw it away. I say to myself and the world at large --Phoooey -- this is what I think of your worry!

And good things always happen after I do.

Signing off for a moment now -- it is time to throw away some money.