Pride

In my last blog, I talked about the recent and terrifying transformation of my life----a transformation so radical, that when I recollect my past, it almost seems to belong to someone else.  Was that really me who lived in a house nestled on six acres and luxurious by anyone’s standards? Was that really me,  driving my kids to the bus and picking them up in a new, super SUV. Was I really that person who never worried about having funds for nice vacations, being able to clothe and educate my children, and never had a second thought about taking my cats to the vet---let alone a bit of fear about affording to go to the doctor myself?

Now, as I have reluctantly had to concede--- everything has changed. Now, my life consists of spending hours daily responding to ads online and filling out online applications not just in Santa Cruz, but South Bay, other states and anywhere I can. When I’m not online or at home filling out applications,  I continue to comb the streets of  Santa Cruz looking for help wanted signs. I have applied for every kind of work I could possibly conceive of doing and for jobs I can’t imagine doing but am more than willing to try.

I thought about my old life and that luxurious house I had raised my children in a few weeks ago, as I was riding the Metro. As I looked out the window on the route that leads to Watsonville I noticed the small shabby clapboard homes along the way. What struck me was how impeccably kept they all were, the yards were well groomed and through the peek thru windows I could see how clean and well maintained the tiny living rooms were.   

On a gut level, their pride was deeply moving to me.  Pride has always been something I define myself by: and pride for me, in the past, has always meant giving more than I take, being able to provide for others and providing a lovely environment for my children to grow up in. Now things have changed for me.  I am no longer in a position where I am able to provide for others,  Now the others I have provided for over the years are reaching out to me----with offers to provide a roof over my head until I am able to do so for myself.  From a certain angle, this could look like Karma, but I am somehow unable to see it that way. There is one problem with the generous offers extended to me: I am too proud to accept them.  Over the years, I have become a person so proud of my ability to give that I am unable to conceive of being the taker.

How far do we go with our pride and at what point does it help us? I consider myself to be a very prideful woman often, to a fault. It is a detriment in my personality that is hard for me to overpower. Obviously, I am not alone in this. During this economic time, I feel certain that I am in the majority, not the minority. Almost everyone has been impacted beyond what any of us had ever even dreamed was possible. That said, I continue to wonder what I could have done to prevent this whole fog of identity crisis. None of us have intentionally put ourselves in this periling, crippling new life identity. This should be the catalyst that brings us together. But alas, I have found that I will give up anything but my pride. Perhaps that is a good thing: integral to my integrity. Perhaps, I am merely succumbing to cultural conditioning.  I haven’t yet figured that out.

• © 2013 Microsoft
• Terms
• Privacy
• Developers
• English (United States)

• © 2013 Microsoft
• Terms
• Privacy
• Developers
• English (United States)