My family is made up of entrepreneurs. We have always worked for ourselves. Architecture, real estate, bookkeeping, it doesn’t matter as long as we have no boss. Working for yourself is honest work. “Be of service” my parents said “and the money will follow.” Growing up, our financial life was feast or famine. There were times when we had a beautiful home and times when the bank asked us to move. There were times when we lived in a cheap apartment, paying rent to the landlord who wouldn’t fix anything, and times when we thumbed our nose at the landlord and bought another house. Juggling money and trying to make ends meet happened more often than the good times, but the good times were very good. Vacations, new skis, fancy cars. Even though I believed that there were good times ahead, I always lived in a constant fear of financial insecurity. I thought it was a normal state of being. I was taught that being an entrepreneur was nobler than working for someone else, so I took the bad with the good, never expecting or wanting a conventional career. I became an entrepreneur, a real estate agent. My fear of financial insecurity expanded.
Years ago I was told that the opposite of fear is faith. That with faith there is no fear. I worked hard at having faith but the fear never left me. It snuck in through the back door of my mind, never sleeping, always tormenting me. I kept thinking my faith was too small and I berated myself for having fear. I read the books recommended to me, met with people I thought seemed more enlightened, went to therapy. Nothing I did replaced the fear. I tried every visualization and affirmation I could find. I kept a gratitude journal. My mantra was “just let go” and “right now, right this minute everything is okay.” The fear remained. I felt guilty for having the fear. No affirmation could take away that guilt of having fear or take away the fear itself.
I thought that if I had money, the fear would leave. It was, after all, a named fear, the fear of lack. If I just worked harder or smarter, all would be okay. So I worked harder and harder, smarter and smarter. I hired a business coach and an assistant. I poured myself into self-help seminars, getting to know the other attendees, gathering platitudes for my arsenal. I attempted to adopt an abundance mentality. I worked and worked and worked. Financial success came and went and came and went. It was the same as it had always been. The fear remained, even in times of abundance, and it grew.
Then the curve ball. The recession hit. My income, dependent on a strong housing market, plummeted. I lost the house I was building and had to do a loan modification on the house I lived in. Debt mounting and no chance to pay it off, the fear expanded exponentially. I worked harder and harder, smarter and smarter.
Then the cattle prod. My broker could see how my health was deteriorating and urged me to get out of the business. I knew in my heart that she was right, it was a relief to hear it. I left the real estate business. I had no reserves. My fear expanded exponentially again. I spent time alone, trying to figure out my life. I spent time with my family. I worked on my resume. I applied for a J.O.B. Nothing happened and yet somehow, the bills were paid. It wasn’t predictable how the money came, a referral fee here and there, a few odd jobs, a deposit on a book I am writing, and a bridge loan from a friend. Months passed. My mind began to heal, it was time to go back to work. Job offers came in and I was ready.
Then the lightning bolt. My husband was diagnosed with Stage IV Esophageal Cancer. The fear expanded like the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man in the movie Ghost Busters. It exploded. It became nothing. The opposite of fear is not faith as I had been taught. The opposite of fear is fear. Yet, when the fear meets itself and becomes so big that it explodes, faith arrives.