Death (And Other Grown-Up) Prepping

I am a single, 35 year old mother of 2 with no life insurance, disability insurance, retirement fund or emergency fund. If a bird shits on my life the wrong way everything collapses. I am on the brink of turning 36 and I suppose it is time for me to become a real, live grown-up. First thing first—Death Prepping.

The hardest thing a person will probably ever do for themselves and for their families is create, read and sign their Last Will & Testament. I spent last night’s baseball practice reading and re-reading my Will. It puts lots of things into perspective, especially when you do not have much to leave behind.

I read through the Will, imagining The Girl and The Boy sitting in a lawyer’s office listening to him read my last wishes. Morbid. But necessary. Being prepared for your death is less about you–it is about who you are leaving behind.

I think the thought of doing a Living Will came from (don’t judge me) Grey’s Anatomy. Derrick dying, Meredith having to make whatever decisions, Bailey bugging Ben about what he wanted to do in case it was left up to her–it all translated into real life. What if something did happen to me? Would my loved ones know what I wanted? Hell…did I really know what I wanted? The Will was easy to deal with…the Living Will was what had me reeling.

Thinking about what I wanted done in the event of something I cannot possibly predict was hands down harsh. What if I am pregnant? Do they save me and then the baby? Or just let me go and save the baby? What if they want to amputate a limb? Will it save my life? Can they leave the limb and still figure out a way to save me? How long, if at all, do I want to be hooked up to machines? Who will I appoint to carry out these wishes and pray they do not let their emotions get in the way? See…I told ya…harsh.

To ease some of the morbid tension between my future self and my sick/dead self, I decided to focus on something a little bit more cheery: Retirement. My plan has been (and continues to be) to live out the rest of my days in a Charleston beach house with the ocean as my back yard, teaching horny 20 year olds about literature and writing. I refuse to be 65 skrimping to live. I want to actually set my bills to auto-pay. I want to have several commas in my savings accounts and no negatives in my checking accounts. I want to be able to live in peace with no financial worries.

Planning for your death, sickness, and retired life is exhausting. I was so tired by the time I got done with all of that, I had to go to bed early. But, when I laid my head down on the pillow, I felt accomplished. I felt ready. I felt…like a grown-up.

~SM

TGIT: No Looking Back

It appears that every year the theme of Thursday nights (Scandal anyway) fits my life. Last year it was “The Secret Is Out”. That explains itself to my particular 2013 situation. This year is no different: “No Looking Back”. Cudos to you Ms. Rhimes…no wonder why I have a crush on you.

Every Thursday for the last I don’t know how many years, I grab a bottle of wine, a naughty dessert or fancy cheese, and curl up on the couch with tissues in hand. For two hours I allow myself to get lost in the genius that is the imagination of a woman who is no different than me. She has a life, children, a job (a little more glam than mine, but we are talking loose comparisons here), big boobs and jiggly bits. For two hours, wine works to loosen my brain and fog the thoughts of broken budgets, late rent, cheating husbands, argumentative kids, the price of gas and dreams deferred. For two hours there is…..nothing.

Last year, Thursday night was a saving grace. Friday through Wednesday I lived to get lost. I needed to get lost. Lost in fiction. I needed to unravel the tight knot of Life and breathe. The secret was indeed out and I needed to blur the loss.

This year it will be different. Different from the years before–blindly watching and sneaking into bed next to my husband…smiling about the cliff hanger or the tears cried over fictional people. Different from last year blindly watching and collapsing on the couch refusing to sneak into bed next to my husband. This year I will slip into bed alone, still smiling over a night that solely belonged to me. No tiny annoyances pulling at the frayed edges, no restless sleepy thoughts of what I was trying to run away from. This year there is no looking back. There are only decisions and consequences. There are no second looks and there is certainly no glancing back…for the characters…for the fans….for me.

It could be crazy, being this connected to fiction, but it’s my crazy and I love it. I love being connected to the fiction, the work, the genius behind it all. I love being linked to the crazy, twisty, good of the genius–the crazy, twisty, good of the unraveling of the knot of Life. Cheers to Thursdays. Cheers to Rhimes. Cheers to never…not ever looking back.

~SM