How I Serve My Family While Preparing for Winter
I am not afraid to admit it. I serve at the pleasure of my wife. While watching Games of Thrones, I was ready to bend the knee every weekend. Personally, I wanted more than to not die a fiery death by dragons.
I know you can’t tell, but I am freaking the hell out over here. You see, my freak outs are different than most. I tend to hold them deep inside where ordinary people can’t see them. We keep getting bad news every day, and freaking out is bound to happen in a situation like this.
I know; “get a mental divorce” sounds like horrible advice. “Experts” will tell you to stay engaged—feel each other feelings. I say you have to protect your mental health and set boundaries with your spouse during this time.
Many individuals look forward to their wedding day. The realization that we have found the one person that we hope to spend the rest of our lives with is exciting. The excitement builds as the preparations ensue.
So recently, I’ve been getting e-mails and phone calls because people are thinking about getting into the business of stock trading. I understand, everyone wants financial freedom, and if this is a way of making money, why not? I have doctors, lawyers, and engineers who are ready to call the bottom of the market, and every time the market goes back up, they get depressed because they didn’t buy the previous bottom.
The week of March 16, 2020, was rough. On Friday the 13th, we were told to take our germ-carrying kids, go home, and don’t come back. As a parent, I have to tell you… I was screaming internally. I wasn’t prepared for this. I get it; for the greater good, I should keep my kids at home, but what do you want me to do with them ALL week? My wife nor I had time to make the appropriate adjustments to handle the additional workload that was placed upon us.
He was going to be big, and that baseball card was going to be worth something. I had the 1990 Donruss brand card. I was going to be rich baby! I was going to send my kids to college on this one. Today, that card, which is probably in my momma’s basement, is worth a whopping $3.00.
Now, I know what some of you are thinking, Armond, you are an African-American man, raised in Arkansas, now a business owner, there is no way you believe that the American Dream is dead—you are correct. It is not dead—it’s just different. The fact is, it is getting harder for the poor to become middle class and for the middle class to become upper class.
I am constantly trying to improve myself like my daughter’s life depends on it because I know that she is watching me.
I figured out that getting up early has its benefits, that talking to myself could be a pretty damn good conversation and that you have to walk before you can run.
