Do we dare?

I'm a freelance photographer.  I run my business by myself, and I am also a stay-at-home mom and housewife/homemaker extraordinaire.  I'm a dreamer on a leash.  And by leash I mean a safety net, really.  I like to think I took a big risk being a photographer, but really I just followed my interests right into this amazing job.  I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my adoring husband, the man who didn't shoot me 8 years ago when I said I wanted to stay home with our children and take portraits as an experimental side gig.  I offer a gigantic thanks to the man who brought home most of the bacon and worked crap hours for years while I followed my heart.  And you know the best part?  It was his heart for me as well.  He never discouraged me, not once.  I know he wished I would have gotten some great corporate salary, but he has never once made me feel like I shouldn't follow where I was being lead.  Husband is a keeper, a cranky butt at times, but definitely a keeper.

This "Do We Dare" situation really kicked into overdrive when Husband lost his job a few months ago.  We had dreamed of him one day walking in and dropping the big sayonara bomb on his boss, but we were not quite at that place you have to be in to nose dive off a cliff.  What do they call that place again?  Oh yeah... CRAZYTOWN!  So when he walked in one morning and was escorted right back out and given his marching orders, things got real.  Somehow it was both liberating and crushing.  You understand me, I know you do.  If you've ever felt imprisoned in a job because of financial responsibilities but would give life and limb to break out of that prison cell, then you absolutely understand what I mean.  I can tell you though, it didn't take long for that escape he longed for, the one that would allow him the chance to go a different direction in life, to feel more like a pair of concrete galoshes than a helium balloon.  

Once our heart rates slowed back down and our ears stopped ringing from the adrenaline rush that can only come from such a glancing blow, we looked at our bank account and panicked all over again.  

Buy the big house, they said.  It will be so worth it, they said.  You can grow into it and live there forever, they said.  Yeah, well they never said maybe we shouldn't spend up to our last dime doing renovations and making the big house into the dream house.  Yikes, most of our savings had morphed into equity.  And you know, that's all well and good until you try to chisel off a few bricks and send them to the electric company.  And the bank, well it doesn't want them either.  It already owns most of those bricks in the first place... 

The months that followed were a blur of fears and tears.  We sold our "forever home" so quickly our hearts couldn't even catch up with our heads.  We had something like 8 showings lined up before our house even listed on MLS.  Thanks in part to the fact it was the best freaking house/yard on the planet and also in part to Mariah the Rockstar Realtor, the Goddess of Social Media Marketing.  We picked our jaws up off the title company floor and were hanging pictures in the rent house before the ink was even dry on our closing papers.  This was heartbreak of epic proportions.  Our house, and more importantly our yard, was our happy place.  I could just wring the necks of the people now living in my house... if for no other reason than pure unadulterated jealousy.  I have uttered many prayers trying to right this wrong in my heart.  

Husband looked for work. He searched high and low, here and there and everywhere.  He even managed to find a couple temporary gigs while we waited for the right permanent job to present itself... as if that's how it happens.  Like it just jumps out and presents itself.  A great job is just about the most elusive creature in existence.  There's the location and the type of work... there's the hours, the work environment, the qualifications, the benefits, and of course the Almighty Salary.  With resumes and cover letters coming out our ears, we were beginning to wonder how on earth anyone ever finds a great, fitting job.  Oh yeah, for starters you don't get a music degree!  Alas that ship had long ago sailed, and there is no use crying over that student loan payment every month.

Do we move back to our college town?  Do we revisit the past and try to mold it back into a future? Do we sit here in Norman, a place we really like but has managed to produce very few soul ties in the 6.5 years we've lived here?  Do we move to the tiny town in Kansas where my ailing grandparents live, maybe lend a hand?  Do we move into my parents' house in my "hometown" and mooch off of their generosity?  My photography business is the last string left that is truly tying us to this place, but without our beloved "forever home" is Oklahoma still our forever home? 

It couldn't be all that surprising that just about the time my big-hearted generous big brother threw us a bone and offered Husband a third temporary job (because the first two were so mind-numbingly awful he quit them both in no time flat), we decided to take a serious look at some other long-term options.  Scary options.  Life choices.  Heart's desires. Crazy dreams.  Some great big ol' Do-We-Dares...