Remaining conscious

From a place of inner peace it is possible to gain distance from your emotions to connect to your intuition.

“Wim is acting weird about the Google opportunity,” I am whining and complaining to my Doctor friend. “He’s just not interested in anything.”

“What happened now?” the Doctor wants to know a little disgruntled to see me demotivated.

“Nothing,” I sulk. “I’ve just been thinking too long. He’s just not very enthusiastic about Google. He says 150k per year isn’t buying a job but a life. And he thinks the whole recruitment process is strange and fishy. Oh yes and the work permit for the au-pair has been sitting in his letterbox for a week. I don’t feel very attractive for the moment either.”

“Can I ask if this is not driven by frustrations?” the Doctor asks me gently eyeing me cautiously. “Wim may just be feeling insecure as once you are earning better you won’t need him anymore. Just a thought.”

“Maybe,” I pout. “But that’s the point. Do I?”

“Wait a day or two and see how you feel,” the Doctor advises gently.

“Maybe I would want a smaller affordable house, closer to school, without a death trap pool,” I think out loud.

“Do I what?” the Doctor questions my earlier rhetorical question.

“Pfff,” I snort going on more to myself. “That being said the recruitment procedure at Google is weird. Did I tell you 150k?”

“Yes you might want that. It would make sense,” the Doctor nods approvingly. “No it’s not. It takes six months at that level of salary.”

“Oh super,” I smile relieved. “I like it slow. If we take the house out of the equation, do I want to stay with Wim?” I rant on with my usual mental puking. “Marriage but not living together. 6 years dating, a house and a baby later.”

“Am I supposed to say what you want hear by agreeing?” the Doctor snaps at me.

“No. You think I’m being silly,” I know I am being very unreasonable but I need to get the silliness out. “I hang onto Wim because of consistency. Maybe my soulmate is walking the beach in Brasil right now and I’m stuck here. So I wait to get the Google job and then I sell the house?”

“What a strange question,” the Doctor shakes his head in firm disapproval.

“Oh is it?” I am in a contrary mood and feel an urge to rile the Doctor a little more. “What would be a good question right now?”

“First get the job, keep it for longer than the trial period then sell,” the Doctor spells it out for me.

“Yes think ahead and plan and research,” I nod taking it all in.

“A good question is how do I fix this instead of a pity party,” the Doctor sets me straights.

“Fix what?” I snap back again.

“What is really the issue here?” the Doctor turns to face me straight on through the webcam, his blue eyes fixing me piercingly. “Yes why is Wim dealing  with the au-pair? What is causing his lack of enthusiasm? I mean he has been consistent all along. It’s you who hangs on so tight. What you seem to forget is whatever you do there will be a consequence. But life will go on regardless.”

“Wim is consistent that he only wants sex and not living together,” I insist on seeing this in a negative light today. “I hang onto that.”

“Stay or leave Wim is just the first step,” the Doctor cuts to the chase. “Once you decide life will follow the path you lay out. There are no ifs, buts, maybes. I don’t know what you should do.”

“I don’t either,” I shrug unreasonably.

“If greed drives you fix it,” the Doctor advises me. “If sex drives you then fix that too.”

“But Wim just wants me for the convenience and nothing more?” I insist he confirms my own twisted negativity. “Or it’s good but this is it. It doesn’t matter really what it is. I don’t know.”

“Really?” the Doctor teases me. “You have only just figured out that you each just want the other for convenience and nothing more? Wow what a revelation.”

“I know,” I now match his stare, my blue eyes into his. “We must be a joke to the outside world.”

“Do you think everyone is going to say ‘I told you so five years ago’?” the Doctor continues with that funny tone in his voice.

“Euh?” I’m not sure how to take what he just said.

“I think most of us recognize desperation when we see it,” the Doctor throws at me.

“Yieks,” I shriek and throw my hands up. “Yes on both sides.”

“What euh?” the Doctor seems to be buying time now. For what?

“I do see it now,” I nod my head vehemently. “Would anyone have said told you so 5 years ago?”

“We have had this conversation many times,” the Doctor looks away disinterested.

“I know but I didn’t believe you,” I remind him.

“Well I don’t know what you discuss with others but I guess you have been told by some to get out of this mess. It has no future,” the Doctor now blatantly yawns widely in front of the camera.

“I don’t know how to get out without a mess,” I moan. “And when is best. I should research housing first.”

“Take your time,” the Doctor taps his fingers impatiently. “I suggest you first get the Google job. That will open many doors. In the meantime look for a lover or a toyboy that is not connected to your life. Find him on Tinder. Fuck like hell and enjoy. This will clear your head.”

“Not sure about the Tinder thing,” I look at my Doctor friend as if he is some kind of alien. I mean, come on, what kind of advice is that? I’m not going on Tinder. I love Wim. And I want the Doctor to point that out to me, not tell me to go look on Tinder and what not.

“No you should keep things as they are until you earn a salary or until your income will get you a mortgage of 400.000 euros,” the Doctor says as if matters of the heart can wait or be computed into numbers of value. “Why not? You just need a good fuck without strings attached.”

“I’ll never get there,” I sigh realizing how bad this whole plan sounds and wishing we could stop discussing bad ideas. “No I couldn’t fuck no strings attached.”

“Ok then 350.000,” the Doctor thinks he can now negotiate my worth. “Why not?”

“Bah vies!” I curl up my nose in total disgust. “I don’t know how much I can borrow with 150k annually.”

“Well then friends with benefits,” the Doctor offers yet another option which is met with just as much distaste on my side. “One third of your gross income.”

“So Google is my ticket out?” I wonder out loud. And that’s when I sensed it properly. The gut feeling I had been having for ages. I didn’t want a way out. I love Wim and want to grow old with him. Not run away with some South American to a Brazilian beach.

“That means your monthly income,” says the Doctor simultaneously offending me as if I were stupid. “Your mortgage can’t exceed one third.”

“Hmmm will I manage?” I decide to play the game along just for the time of this conversation. Then vow to myself never to complain about Wim ever again.

“Yes of course you will,” the Doctor says matter of factly.

“What if I don’t get Google?” I ask to weigh up the other side of my options.

“You will have two thirds to spend,” the Doctor points out how mortgages work, as if it is the first time I ever go to buy a sweetie in a candy store. “Well keep pushing your business.”

“It’s very slow,” I ponder and then I brighten up. “But a bit better.”

“It will improve,” the Doctor winks at me.

“Hope so, it’s hard to convince people,” I point out the painpoints I have been facing lately with acquiring new clients. “If I’m a Googler whatever I say will be like magic.”

“I guess so,” the Doctor says with a funny look.

“Cool,” I smile and then I remember to hold back on some of my internal information. So I put on a grave face and end my Skype call with: “No no no this is not cool.”

I think that life is a voyage of self-discovery. Loving the adventure. Hoping people like me without finding me too  nice *wink wink*

Love,

Fiona

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