It's sort of tacky and ungrateful to talk about this sort of thing. But I'm wondering if anyone else ever feels like this?
We met a couple of our neighbors yesterday for the first time and they invited us over for wine and cheese with their friends for the evening. We went, of course, and in a way I felt like it was The Big Man Above sending me a message saying something like, "Hellooo, when are you going to learn what enough is?"
That's a good question.
I think it started when I came to Florida in 1999 as a naive and poorly dressed nineteen year old, but it was probably long before that. It began as a means of survival. At first I wanted to buy a place, and then I wanted to buy every place, and somewhere along the way I got the misguided notion that I should take over a corner of the world. Or something.
Much later I met Andrew, and for the first time that task seemed really, immensely, embarrassingly small. All of the sudden, I went from working eighty hours a week and juggling six phone calls at once to quitting my job as an Executive Director to What will one more house or boat or car really mean, anyway?
Maybe it's the vineyard of wine that's still in my system or maybe it was the four lawyers talking about their forty employees, their fourteen commercials, their four daughters each, and their four carat diamonds set in platinum or maybe I'll read this in a few hours and delete it by the afternoon, but for the first time since I married That Redhead last year, I feel The Pressure again. And it's like the size of the entire universe multiplied and doubled and wrapped all around me and then some.
When we went to bed I told Andrew, "I can do more. I can make more. This is a time of opportunity. I should be in a buying mode."
"Why?" he said. "So then we would never see each other, and you would have a heart attack by thirty one? Is this about tonight?" And then, "Kelly, what those people think is a lot is, well, it's all relative."
And I said, "That's not entirely true. It's still pretty serious money. I mean, you have to admit that."
"Compared to who? But more importantly, why do you care about what anyone else is doing?"
"I'm not talking about them. It's me. I want to make sure I've done -- I'm doing -- enough."
And he looked at me sternly and simply said, "Yes."
When is enough, enough?
How do you know?