Conversation with a friend clarified my feelings, as it always does.
In my mind, money equates to the ability to be spontaneous and irresponsible, I have always had an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. I’ve always felt that it was essential to get everything right, to never fall apart, to never let anyone down. Since getting married, I’ve felt it even stronger than before. And even now, no matter what I may contemplate, I know that I’ll choose to keep slogging on, keep fulfilling my obligations as best I can – because that’s all I would ever allow myself to do.
But back when I had more money, I could do little spontaneous, irresponsible things now and then. I could decide to jet off to see a friend over the weekend on the spur of the moment. Or buy a nice new PC. Or a $200 coffee grinder. Or take a friend out to a nice dinner. I didn’t splurge all the time; for the most part I was quite frugal. But it gave me a sense of freedom, and at least the illusion of sponteneity. And having savings made me feel like if I ever did fall apart, have a nervous breakdown, or otherwise fuck up, I’d have a safety net.
Monday night at the airport it was painful looking at the planes and knowing I wouldn’t be getting on one and flying away. Not that I wanted to escape. I just love to fly, and I miss flying. I love to travel, period.
I can’t get away. I can’t stop. I can’t even slow down. I can’t fall apart. It all depends on me. And I can’t keep up.