Wednesday, April 15, 2009

It's All Good. Really.

I spent the morning trying to get our landline number switched over to Eric's cell phone, canceling the cable and the newspaper, cutting our donations, and calling my gram to see if she would pay for Addie's ballet lessons for a while (praise Ruby, she will).

I don't think I'll miss the t.v. too much yet, plus we can still watch stuff on the computer, and we kept Netflix for now, so that we have movies to watch.  The girls will miss Noggin, but tv wasn't good for them anyway, right?  They'd rather spend the time with us.  When I canceled the paper, I was told I could retain online access for six months for free.  Golden.  Better for the environment anyway.

We haven't made any decisions about our biggest expense--the kids' school.  We'll do that when we know more about when, exactly, Eric's last day will be (which could be anywhere from two weeks to three months).  That will be the biggest change, and I'm only beginning to get used to it in my head.

An awesome book I'm reading suggests this:  fill a jar with lots of things that you would like to do, and that are in line with your goals for growth.  Like, my goals have to do with giving myself some love without spending on material possessions, and with feeling more connected to family and friends, and also feeling the love of spirit.  So my jar has little slips of paper with things like, "learn the words to a good song and practice singing it," or, "call a friend," or, "meditate for 15 minutes."  Whenever I'm feeling anxious about stuff, I get to pull a paper from the jar and take a mini-break, practicing something that keeps me in line with where I envision my life going.  I was feeling pretty down last night, and pulled the song one.  I haven't decided which one yet to learn, but I'm excited about learning a new song on the piano, and practicing singing it.  I have something to look forward that is free and makes me happy.  It's a gift to myself.  Cool, huh?

Eric put my hand to his chest last night--it was vibrating like a drum with anxiety.  "We have to remember we're on the same side," he said, after I said some not-so-nice things about feeling freaked out about his finding a job.  How could I forget that he's human?  That he feels this more deeply than I do, losing his livelihood?  Shit.  Shit.  That sweet heart, pounding in that chest.  The most important thing is to believe in him now, and to trust (see Nanny's post for a truly awesome example of how this works).

"What you need the most right now is each oter," says Toni.

"You can freak out if you want to," my friend Ellen reminds me.  "But really, it's all good."

Sue:  "You and Eric have created a very solid foundation. Plant yourself there. And thrive."
And you all called, and gave us virtual hugs, and laugh and cry with us.  Thank you for this love (and also, Rose, for the cookies, which make many things better).  It's all good.


  1. Dear Ones,
    Sounds like your positive spirits and perspectives will give you strength and wisdom as you both struggle through this challenge. Focus on your blessings. Perhaps, this will provide an opening for more meaningful opportunities.

    Also, remember that we Eichenlaub's are related to and love you so if there is anything you need/want from us, don't hesitate to ask.


  2. Sarah got home and told me about the latest.

    God I hate people who comment on blogs. Eric seems to me one the most well-rounded and versatile people on the planet. I also hate people who offer vague encouragement when your hurting over a very specific and very real loss over which you need to grieve without some smiling shit prattling on about musculature and talent. But, damn, he makes beer. Is there anything more valuable?

    One other thing that bothers me: Hey, send me your resume and I'll see what I can do. No one ever does anything. It's like those people who say they'll "pray for you"...dude, just order me a pizza.

    But really, he should send me his resume.