Ok, so where was I? Right.—Obsessed with my problem. The ominous news about Joy consuming my consciousness.
If you’re like me, when you have a problem, the first step is to write about it. When I write about my problems, I retake control, transcribing things into my perspective.—Into the Chachaverse.
Connecting my fingers to the keys, I let my problems do the talking.—In a few months, Joy, my eighty-two year old mother-in-law, with no assets and no savings, will also have no home. Of course she will have a home! But will that home be my home? Or will that home be a house close by that we will buy for her? A forced investment that we can just barely afford.
Then, as if my words have power, I wrote everything that needed to be done in time. An overwheming and expensive list. But a list, nonetheless. A comprehensive map to best-case-scenerios.
Then I got to work. Justin and I followed up with Ikea and placed our order for the studio’s kitchen cabinets. Justin met with his loan officer to discuss financing. And I begrudgingly called my parents to ask for help with a down payment. A home came on the market that was perfect for Joy. I attened the open house and shook hands with the listing agent.
When I write about my problems, I know what to do. Despite doubts of Time and Money, I followed my proactive plan.
Then something amazing happened.
Poof! My problem disappeared.
It was an ordinary Monday night. I was on the couch watching or scrolling or both, but really niether. When Justin came inside, I smiled to see my man at the end of the day.
“How’s your mom?” I said, knowing that he talks to her every Monday.
“She’s good,” he said, nonchalantly. “Oh, I have some good news,” he added.
“Oh?” I am cynical because problems make everything terrible.
“So I talked to my mom, and she’s not going to move here,” he said. As if that was enough information. I insisted he keep talking.
He told me about Joy, and her decision to stay where she is. I won’t share those details here, but the case was closed. Poof. No more problem.
Now what do I write about?
I sit with my fingers on the keys and wait for inspiration to spark.
If you’re like me, this makes you want to stop writing. This is a problem.—And the first step is to write about it.
So that’s what I’m doing. A little more each day. I will write until inspiration sparks. I will write until all of my problems disappear.