Deep Pockets in the Deep South

When we moved to the North Metro Atlanta area, I had no idea how it would impact my family, well, especially me, living in such abundance. As I looked around I was charmed by the beautifully manicured lawns and revitalized downtowns, insane restaurants, and shopping, the plethora of children’s options and mini college campus sized high schools. My daughter’s school was named one of the most beautiful campuses in all of Georgia. Our schools are top-ranked, sports teams excel, AP classes dominate schedules. It’s all very enticing, full of promise and opportunity. What I didn’t expect was for the wealth around me to have such a negative impact me.

I was ready to start packing moving boxes and leave the area this month when trying to secure parking for my daughter near the high school would cost me $500. I mean, it just threw me. I was grumpy for nearly a whole day. She has 2 off-campus classes, buses won’t support her schedule. So unless I am willing to pay the donation amount, transportation is going to be a major, major hassle. Back home in the midwest, parking costs $8, not $500. Life in this bubble isn’t reflective of the rest of the world, at least not mine. 

I know people aren’t supposed to complain about time or money, because no one ever feels like they have enough or are immediately judged on how they spend both by the hearers of the complaining, but I mean, living in North Metro Atlanta area is tricky. It takes resolve to remember what I am about. I firmly believe money is a tool given to accomplish our mission and values. The things other people value may not be my values. I am not trying to judge. I don’t want you to judge me. I just get confused about what I really value. I mostly blame my addiction to social media. I can be having a normal day, then, out of nowhere, I’m jealous or sad or discontent because I saw someone else’s money being spent on something I have chosen not to or worse, can’t afford. 

My husband does amazing providing for our family. He has well surpassed the income we had written down long ago that was enough to happily live off of. But now, looking around, that number seems naive, innocent. What’s happened is I’ve reinvented what my priorities are as I see what everyone else spends money on. Don’t we want a second home in Florida or the mountains or the lake? Don’t we want to send our children to the out of state college of their first choice? Don’t we want new cars for our kids? Don’t we want a new house with an acre and a pool? Don’t we want exotic vacations every single school break?

When I Look Around

Sometimes I take comfort that I don’t do all the financial things other people do because I have a larger family (6), or because I assume they are up to their eyeballs in debt, but I don’t think that’s true. I think these families just have deep pockets. At least it seems so.

Our kids get way more than my husband or I did growing up. They travel more; they experience more. If any of them has the slightest interest in something, we can help them. We do make our kids get jobs we didn’t set up for them, pay for part of college, and pay for half of their car in cash. We give them money for seasonal clothing, activities, and gas. I feel like we have given them so much. I feel generous, but it never feels like enough when I look around. That is the key phrase when I look around.

Under Pressure

Because I am an outward processor I often find myself working through issues of comparison or envy as I chat with my husband. It is fantastic that my heart trusts him, but, is it fair of me to do this to the man providing income for our family? To come home after working long hours and find out his wife doesn’t feel like its enough today because I compared our lives and choices to someone else’s? I feel bad, I know it discourages him, and I know he feels it too. I read in a 2017 study, suicide was highest in middle-aged white males, and I read elsewhere it was highly correlated to feeling pressure and disillusionment to provide and be enough for their families (https://afsp.org/about-suicide/suicide-statistics/ )   (https://www.economist.com/democracy-in-america/2018/06/15/americas-rising-suicide-rate).

Thankfulness and Joy are the Anti-Venom

As I have wrestled over this comparison trap, here’s what I have been trying to implement to fight against it. So much of what is at the heart here is just thankfulness and joy. There’s a verse in the Bible that says, those who compare themselves among themselves are not wise. If you resonate at all with this then maybe you can join me in these things below:

1. I started thanking my husband weekly for being a good provider, telling him that I am proud of him and who he is at work.
2. We are making sure our spending is on what we value. A household can spend its way out of any income, so we reevaluated our priorities to make sure our money follows priorities, even if it means other areas lack, or never happen at all. 
3. Because I am susceptible to my joy and contentment being stolen unexpectedly by my response to someone else’s life on social media, I have to really ask myself am I in the right mindset to enter in. If I’m not in the mood or I’m bored, its a high probability I will be discouraged by someone else’s highlight reel that is funded differently than mine.
4. I’m relearning to rejoice with others, type it, text it, say it out loud. Whatever it takes, practice rejoicing with others. Not just for their benefit, but for mine and the condition of my heart. It is the anti-venom of comparison. 

I hope when my husband reads this and he can feel a change in me. I want to support him, my provider, with acceptance and encouragement, not with messages of doing more and gaining more. I want our home to be a place where he is safe to come home to after a long day and is welcomed with an appreciation for his contribution to our family. I know I want appreciation in my stay at home mom role. So instead of comparing our situation to another, I hope I can compare our situation to our own situation a year ago knowing that we have made progress in our lane at our speed to our destination.