It’s true for those hypercapable, disability-free folks too, but what makes me the most money, by far, is patience. A deep, quiet commitment to allowing the optimal process to complete.
Four months for the bank to open that independent investing account.
Six months for the college to process the grant application.
A nine-hour drive, and a three-day layover, to gather a signature “proving” disability.
My quirky brain, though, makes the practice of patience challenging.
My body? Slow.
My mind? Pondery.
My temper? Mild.
But that neurology of mine, oy!
Because my brain wiring believes every new sound is a shot gun, I’m tense living in a place with feet and stereo overhead.
Because my brain wiring drains my physical energy, I need far more rest than neurotypical people.
Because my brain wiring has to do advanced yogi movements in order to understand simple concepts, I fall asleep at random hours.
My book wrapped up with me living in an ideal environment: silent, detached, solitary, surrounded by nature, cheap, near good people.
This past spring, I lost my home.
I was devastated.
Although my body showed symptoms of coming undone, I believed we would make it, that something good would come in time.
A friend located a space I could use in the interim.
Thank goodness! It means that in the midst of a severe, region-wide housing crisis, we are sheltered, and beautifully so, no less.
However, I had thought we would be permanently and appropriately housed by now.
Instead, what felt like “three months to get through” has become a wide open, morphing, jostling question mark. I see it as the giant inflatable dude towering above the used car lots, one moment here, the next several feet to the west.
This is where I panic.
Do I put money into a trailer, and pay $750/mo to live in a park?
Take out a mortgage?
Go big, and rely on the income of multiple housemates to pull it off?
Or do I wait?
Wait the 2, 6, 18, or 36 months to get into a quiet nonprofit suite, or for its informal equivalent to come up?
I do know that patience over the last four months has so far netted me cash and goods of $5000, in addition to my usual income.
That will pay my rent for the next months.
It will also buy me the only comfy, noise-cancelling earphones I know to work, and a phone to replace my seven-year-old one when that becomes necessary.
The bulk of it -a study grant- is like a helpful reminder of how much more my finances can transform if I continue to practice patience during this tricky time.
So, I breathe.
I hang tight, and aim to hang loose.
I do inordinate amounts of self-care.
I ease off in some areas, so that I can feel reasonably well during this time of challenge.
Because patience in housing is what can make or break one’s entire financial future, I approach the process as though a knight’s quest.