My real question is how in the world are y'all paying rent?? Like seriously.
How do you know when you really want something?
When the bitterness of sacrifice stings your tongue, yet you press on anyway toward your goal.
When your old ways begin to feel more and more like obstacles in your pursuit of what you want now. At every sacrifice, you question if this is what you really want; if your goal is worth the cost. And try as you might to avoid the cognitive land mines that make you think it’s all or nothing, this or that, now or never, you eventually do have to face the facts: everything comes at a cost. And the question we all have to ask ourselves – the question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately – is am I ready to pay the cost for my goals?
When I was training for the Chicago Triathlon, my goals were, in order of importance:
On August 25th, I accomplished all three of those goals. But those goals cost me.
I sacrificed sleep on Thursday mornings for waking up at the literal crack of dawn to go run with the Atlanta Triathlon Club. I sacrificed so many invitations and cool events for attending swim class on Friday nights. I sacrificed so much gas for driving out to the Silver Comet to get some kilometers on the bike in. I sacrificed quite a bit of money for all the gear and training it required for me to become a triathlete.
Was I excited for all those sacrifices? No. Though the victory at the finish line was sweet, I will attest that the sacrifices I made to get there were often bitter. There are so many runs that I went on that I truly didn’t want to do. So many days I showed up at the pool knowing that I wanted to be somewhere else. I wasn’t always happy about the sacrifices I made in the moment, but I knew what I wanted, I knew the cost, and I paid it anyway. I did what needed to be done so that on August 25th, I could truly say I put my best effort towards my goals. In the end, it was worth it because it built a deep sense of self-trust and fundamentally changed my relationship with athletics and my body. It was nonetheless one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
But it’s easy to talk about the bitterness of sacrifice when you’ve already crossed the finish line. It’s maybe even a bit easier when you know where the finish line is and exactly what the cost of success is. It’s a bit harder when you have no idea exactly when or how you will taste the sweetness of victory. It’s scarier to sacrifice for a goal when you don’t even know exactly how much it’ll cost you.
I know how much, on paper, an apartment and utilities will cost me. What I'm afraid of is the costs I can’t itemize neatly on a budget. As I get closer to the day I’ll finally get to sign my name on a lease, I haven't been able to shake the feeling of loss aversion lodged in my gut. It’s all feeling so real, so suddenly. Now everything I do, everything I buy, everything I hope for is a potential loss. When you don’t know what the cost is, everything feels like a sacrifice.
Yet I know what lies ahead of me if I sign a lease. Or, at least I have an idea of what lies ahead of me.
I know at minimum I'll be paying the equivalent of 3 roundtrip flights from Atlanta to Los Angeles in rent alone every single month for at least 12 months. I know the money I’d spend on rent will no longer be available to me as disposable income. I know that I'll have to be even more calculated about what trips are worth it, almost certainly reducing the breadth of my travel season. I know I won't be around the corner from my sister anymore. I know that I'll miss my mom.
But I also know the joy I'll experience not having to rely on my car everyday for basic transportation. I know how I'll feel when the wind weaves through my hair as I bike to meet a friend to play tennis at our local courts. I know the ease I'll feel wandering about the High knowing that my ride home is just a few feet away, ready to carry me home at my convenience for two dollars and fifty cents. I know the ease I’ll feel when accepting invitations, not having to care about the parking situation at the function.
I know the fun and artistic expression I will have expressing myself through decoration in ways I've never been afforded. I know how wide and bright my smile will be once I put up the first Christmas tree I've had since I was a child. I know that I'll be brimming with excitement when I can finally host friends in my home for the first time in my life. I can very easily imagine the peace I'll have being in my own space.
I know how bad I want this and I know how much I'm giving up to get it. I just don’t know how much I’ll actually have to sacrifice. I know I’m willing to pay the cost, I just don’t know what the cost is yet.
To those of you who are already well-versed in the realities of paying rent and who may find this all a bit dramatic, I get it. But the reality is, the idea of paying rent has scared me for a long time. I'm afraid the day will come where I can't go on a trip or I can't go out for a friend's birthday dinner or I can't go horseback riding or I can't buy a kayak or I can't pay for a car repair because a massive expense was taken from me according to a contract I signed promising that I would indeed pay that amount. On time. Monthly. In full. No matter what.
It’s not necessarily the sacrifice itself that is scary, because I make sacrifices now for a variety of reasons with little trouble. The spookiness of rent is in its compulsory nature. No matter what happens, no matter if I get laid off or if Tyler drops a tour list for his next album or if I need my hair done for something, that rent still needs to be paid. It’s the lack of choice, perhaps, that scares me the most. I will be sacrificing a pretty extreme flexibility in how I spend my money that I’ve enjoyed for years. That cost makes me deeply uncomfortable.
Am I aware that most of that can be navigated by budgeting? Sure. But that doesn't make it feel any different. Sacrifices are necessary, but the sweetness of what I gain does not entirely eradicate the bitterness of what I lose. Maybe one day it will. But right now? As I barrel down what may be the last 6 months of my life where I'm not paying for housing? The bitterness is sharp on some days, less so on others. The sweetness is still but a dream I pray every day comes to pass.
Thalia is probably the closest she's ever been to living independently and only mildly freaked out about it. Send thoughts and prayers, please.
