Burning My Money

I enjoy burning my money. I more than enjoy it, I love it. I love everything about it from beginning to end.

The moment I get a notification on my phone or a reminder in the mail the excitement begins. I carve out time in my schedule to be alone, grab my keys and just short of run to my car. The anticipation builds as I pause at each stop sign and stop at every red light. Although it would appear I am driving, I am actually transforming into a forensic accountant, reviewing a mental ledger of expenditures and expenses. I can make pasta an extra night this week and save some money there. The cable bill isn’t really due until the 27th, so I can pull from the budget there. All until I pull into a parking spot. The time has come. The heavy door swings open, providing a warm greeting paired with a stiff punch to the face of fragrance. I know I am in the right place.

My curiosities are peaking as I take in the new inventory. Each item neatly stacked, and color coordinated, appeasing my OCD tendencies. So many vibrantly colored jars adorned with beautiful metalic lids enticing me to open and take whiff. Will it be sweet? Savory? Light and airy? The bigger mystery, which ones will come home with me? What will I be in the mood for?

Why does the ritual to burn money bring me so much joy? Well, not actually burning money, but spending money on glass jars of wax and burning that. Well, not just wax, infused waxed. But not just infused wax, special infused wax. Wax with creative combinations of essential oils and spices. Wax so powerful it can evoke moods and feelings from within and burning that. Why? Why do I love this so much?

I do. I love everything about the process. I love reading the creative names and silly puns. I love the beautiful packaging, with solid, soothing colors or vibrant florals. I love the acknowledgement of holidays with scary black cats and pumpkins or striped candy canes and snowmen dancing about. I love testing out each scent, allowing my nose to take the lead with a deep inhale.

I love the placing them on their special shelf in my home, aligning them just right. I love dropping them in their holder for the first burn, the most important, allowing the wax to pool evenly. I love trimming the wicks and igniting them again and again. Setting them off to fill each room with a unique aroma, Mahogony Teak, White Pumpkin, Frosted Pine or Clean Linen. I love the twinkle of the amber flame and the shadows cast on the walls, the ambiance, the setting, the aesthetic.

And when my husband gets a glimpse of the bank statements, I love that I only need a one-word rebuttal.

FIREWORKS!

I love burning my money.

I Am Back

I am back! Am I? Well . . . I would like to be back. It’s been so long since I have drained my brain on paper (or keyboard), and it definitely feels necessary to me as a person to write. However, I feel rusty like the Tin Man, my knuckles squeaking and whining with each letter I press. Where is Dorothy with that oil can?

I poured some coffee and pulled up a chair to spend some time with my old self this morning. Reading through old posts of a mother isolated with her babies, in a financial hardship and desperately seeking for more. Each post had helped me become more accepting, patient and grateful as I wrote them. I miss her. I miss the woman who had an awareness and hopefulness. Her problems seem so simple now. Funny how that is. I suppose it shows growth and maturity for me as I stand today, and still at times, I miss that part of the journey.

Since I left, many of my problems were solved or improved. However, as I got everything I was wanting, I lost so much that I had. Life has been happening to me. I am just in for the ride with its unpredictable twists and turns and the frightening darkness and drops. I lost my armor of gratitude and mindfulness I once had. I now often get caught up in the conversation of my thoughts. Hearing the worrying and complaining all day. The insults and the reminders of what went wrong. So here I am, back to writing, back to vomiting it all up, the ugly that has been poisoning me. I am back to reminding myself who I am with all that I have. Back to getting into the driver’s seat of my life. Back to seeking the answers. Back to the uncertainty I have felt before, with new confidence that I have lived through difficult times. Reminding myself the woman from my past lives within. Reminding myself that I am strong. I am resilient. Reminding myself that I am a writer. So here I am. Back to writing.

I am Back!