Yep, that is right.
I’m 35, married with two children, and I don’t own a thing.
Sometimes this bothers me.
Really bothers me.
And I feel like a giant failure who is walking a path to nowhere. I start to think how I’ve let myself and my family down. The vortex of disempowering emotions start to swallow me into the sinkhole before my mind screams,
Just keep breathing.
Focus on what you do have.
My little girl may not have sparkly stars on her ceiling or every toy ever made, but she wears a pretty consistent smile on her face. She lights up any room she walks in. She’s very intelligent and creative.
A baby, almost here, who is healthy and I’m sure will light up the room more than any Eveready battery charged toy.
A loving husband and father who lives the dream alongside me, who lifts me up when I need it and leans on me when he does. A constant reminder that you can be, do, have, whatever you want and you are not alone in trying to get it. I’m safe in knowing I am part of a team.
I may not have a couch that I own, but the warmth of the hammock wrapped around my body, from the shores of Thailand and Zanzibar and the mountains of Laos, lingers on my skin.
I may not own my bed, but the awe I felt at seeing the curvature of the night sky filled with a thousand dancing stars as Craig and I lay on the sand in Koh Lanta gazing and dreaming is imprinted into my memory forever.
I may not have the latest luxury model car, but the lessons from bumpy pick up truck rides and overcrowded African mini vans rides to remind me that it is never the outer shell that matters but the journey that brings you to that far distant destination.
I may have little money in my Superfund, my “retirement” future, but I have infinite wealth in each moment that I have lived in the present and experienced life for what it means now, not waiting until its the right time to live it.
I may not own the latest wardrobe or fashion accessories, but I have a simple beaded torquoise bracelet from the Masai who taught me that life should be lived in the custom that suits you, and a red warrior blanket that carries the message to be fearless in your attainment of that life.
The more I stop to think of what I don’t own, the reality of what I truly do have begins to diminish that dark terror that lingers to tell me I am a failure.
I own so much more that can’t be quantified.
I own those memories, that I hope, have gifted me with more.