Recently we bought a new car. Like a brand new -never driven by another person- that kind of new car. My wife and I read reviews and weighed all the various options of price and style, for several weeks. We test drove eleven different models of crossover SUVs and wagons, several brands at many different dealerships. The process was extremely time consuming and exhausting. We narrowed it down to our top two, we test drove those two models several more times. Both were in the same price range and had the same safety features. We struggled with making a decision so we took our growing teenage boys and put them in the backseat of both models thinking this would help our decision if their legs felt scrunched in either model. They fit perfectly in both.
My wife wanted me to have the final say since this would be the car that I drive the most often. So I chose the Subaru Outback with the trim level that included leather seats. It wasn't until after I negotiated the price and we drove the car home that I broke down in tears and admitted to my wife that I've never had a new car before. At forty-one years old, this was my first new car. And never have I had a car that is this nice and luxurious.
I felt anxious driving the new car and one day as my wife and I were out running errands she asked me, "Do you like it?"
"Yes, I love it!" And then I paused, a very long pause. I took a deep breath.
"I just don't feel like I deserve it."
My wife stopped in her tracks, placed her hands on either side of my face and looked me in the eye, "You deserve it honey. You work hard. You deserve it."
I blinked back my tears and nodded my head but I didn't really believe her.
It took me a long time to believe her. When friends would ask about the new car purchase, out of authentic curiosity, I would quickly quantify our purchase by explaining how we decided that now would be the right time to buy a car and have car payments before we had to start paying college bills. I felt like I had to justify this purchase to anyone who asked, and it had nothing to do with the person asking and everything to do with me and my relationship to money due to my family story.
I'm hesitant to say that I grew up poor but rather my family would be categorized as lower middle class. Our house was small compared to my friends' houses; 3 bedrooms and one bathroom for four people. As a child, it always felt like my mom was making things for us (dresses, dolls etc) not because she wanted to but we couldn't afford it otherwise. Our local public school wasn't good so my parents decided to adjust their spending and lifestyle so that my sister and I could get a better education at the local Catholic school. Looking back I am so thankful that they made this decision but as a child you can't see that. All you can see is the difference between you and the other kids. Not only were we the only ones in our class who weren't Catholic, our family seemed the poorest. I was always sensitive to this and it shaped my relationship with money. Rather than spending frivolously as an adult to compensate my childhood, I've been a penny-pinching saver.
Spending this much money on a car seemed frivolous and left me feeling unworthy.
Throughout the course of my life when I feel this way, when life feels like it has me pinned against the wall and I know that I need to move on but I don't know how. I sometimes write out questions to myself to think on and ponder. I've been exploring these questions and my emotions about it in my meditation practice:
Where in your life has your family story played out in a way that you didn't expect?
Are you wrestling with worthiness or the inability to accept that your past doesn't predict your future?
In that quiet stillness I've given myself the opportunity to lean into the emotions that appear, to embrace the response that comes with answering the hard questions that lead to self discovery. It becomes a practice of humility and acceptance. Now when I get into my new car rather than feeling anxious I pause before putting the car in reverse, I take a deep breath in through my nose and I feel the leather steering wheel in the palm of my hands and I say to myself, "I deserve this. I am worthy." Some days it feels true and other days it feels like a routine I'm doing but I do it anyway. As I continue this practice I know that one day I won't need it anymore because I will know that I am worthy of what the Universe has provided for me. But until then, I breathe in and I repeat this mantra to myself. "I deserve this. I am worthy."