Failure is not fatal

So my flight was supposed to depart 45 minutes ago. Leaving from Florida to Puerto Rico. Nonstop. I only fly nonstop if nonstop is an option. It’s curious to me when I was a child I absolutely loved flying. My dad was in the military and we didn’t spend any time on the continental United States until I was almost 17. Picture that. Sometimes I’d fly for two meals in a row. Dinner and breakfast. Breakfast and lunch. Lunch and dinner. I would enthusiastically put down my seat back tray awaiting the arrival of the flight attendant so I could blurt out what I wanted. Followed by a polite, “please.”  Finally the plane takes off. 53 minutes later. In the name of the father, the son, and the Holy Spirit. I pray we all arrive at our final destination safely.  Anyhow, here we are. It’s my sister’s 21st birthday and we’re en route to our motherland. I’ve been eagerly anticipating take off because once we’re in the air they’ll start the INFLIGHT BEVERAGE service and she can order her second legal alcoholic beverage. Her first was at the airport. We were at the airport for some time. Two hours prior to take off to be exact. You see with my dad being in the military we have been disciplined to always arrive two hours early. I mean that’s what they recommend after all.  Where am I going with this? My husband and I, you see, we both come from families that love to travel. My dad and mom had an insatiable hunger to take us everywhere in the world they could. So did his parents. With my Dad being in the military, travel was facilitated a bit. Living in Germany we could drive to so many neighboring countries. Road trips to lloret de mar, Spain? I think, “yes!”. Madrid? Absolutely. Paris, Rome, Venice? You get the point. I learned to snowboard in Kirchdorf, Austria where we spent three Christmases in a row during our time in Germany. None of that came easy. My parents weren’t spoon fed. They don’t come from money. Their parents busted their ass and budgeted their money accordingly to afford the humble things they could afford. So did my parents. When my husband and I started dating we budgeted aside a certain amount of money per pay for travel. It’s been non-negotiable since the very beginning. Of course that is after retirement savings by the way. I have some friends that say, “you guys are always traveling,” or “you have a nice house.” We didn’t come into that from the beginning. Not at all. I moved out of my parents house when I was 18 into an efficiency in a building that had about eight efficiencies. It was a little sketchy area in Laurel, Md. I spotted a cockroach or two from time to time and that was even with their exterminator services. Then I moved into a one bedroom when my one year lease at the efficiency was up. My Dad paid for that efficiency and the one bedroom while I was going to school in Maryland. I was also working so I paid for everything else. My car, expenses, entertainment. I was the only individual my age with their own place so my spot was the hangout from Friday to Sunday. I’ve always been a good kid so my girlfriends would tell their guardian’s they were staying with me and it was cool.  Then I moved to Florida and moved  into a one-bedroom with a loft, then back into my parent’s and as it turned out, to save up to buy a condo. Went back to college while working full-time. Then back into my parents after selling the condo and then working in the family business. Then into a two-bedroom townhouse in Maryland. Then I bought a row-home in reservoir hill Baltimore with my now husband then into the house we own now in Miami. To finishing my master’s. It has absolutely never been easy. My husband and I never call for help. Ever. We figure it out. So where I’m going with this is some people that know us but don’t “know” us have no idea we went from an efficiency in a sketchy ass part of laurel with a cockroach sighting here and there to owning a single family home in Miami. Things don’t happen overnight. Unless you win the lottery. You might fail, and fail, and fail, and succeed, then succeed, and fail, and succeed. You can’t compare yourself to someone and think, “I must go from absolutely nothing to owning a boss home or apartment in Miami,” or New York City or Los Angeles or where ever. It probably didn’t happen like that for the person you’re comparing yourself to. They probably struggled some. There was probably lots of sweat and tears. Maybe some cockroaches. giphy-2 Yuck. There might still be sweat and tears. If you compare your beginning to their middle thinking that’s their beginning you’re setting yourself up for failure. You’re likely setting yourself up to live beyond your current means. You are almost undoubtedly setting yourself up to possibly live beyond your means. You’re trying to keep up with the Joneses. You’re not moving at your own pace. Learning your own lessons along the way. Such as not being able to afford anything other than ramen noodle. Who knows about ramen noodle? rs_500x281-150209094336-prince or eating only peanut butter. You don’t typically go from water to Veuve Clicquot. There is usually a progression. Let’s say there is water, cheap beer, better beer, cheap liquor, better liquor, cheap wine, better wine, cheap champagne, and better champagne. giphy-3 You’ve got to write your own story. At your own pace. Through your own obstacles and your own progression. Do not try to keep up with others. Do not compare yourself to others. Screen Shot 2015-02-14 at 8.30.26 PM It is OKAY. Set your own goals, your own budget, at your own pace. I’d love to be flying first class whenever I fly on airlines that offer it. Not because of the boogie factor of it, but because I don’t feel like I’m a cow in a herd of cattle, but I can’t afford that right now most times. That’s my progression. I haven’t progressed to being able to fly first class all the time. I’m not going to pretend I do or I can all the time. I can’t. I accept that. I’m not going to, “ball so hard” like “mother-fackers trying to find me.” Sometimes we’d love to be  in a different part of town, but we can’t afford to own the same size house in that part of town So guess what? We’re not in that part of town. Some things are just out of my budget and I’m good with that right now. That’s my budget and where I’ve progressed to. Where we’ve progressed to. Additionally, one should celebrate our friends successes and progressions always because they are in a different part of their life than us. Do not compare or try to keep up with other people. Sometimes we compare ourselves to others and think they might be doing super well. They may be, but we don’t know what part of their life they are in. We do not always know what they went through already to get there. And sometimes for all we know they may not actually be better off than you. They may be visually better off, but on paper not own anything and be neck deep in debt. And as I sit here in my middle seat in coach, en route to our next travel destination thanks to our standard to not negotiate when it comes to budgeting for mini respites, I’m thankful we are progressing at our own pace and writing our own story with our own pit stops. And it’s a good pace. It’s our pace. It’s the pace we can afford. Oh and by the way shoutout to our southwest flight attendant for providing us the first round of drinks on the house. And I mean who can complain? I’m on a plane with my husband and my sister en route to the motherland. Tanya our supercalifragalisticexpialadocious flight attendant has the drinks coming on the house and then… she returned for round two and said, “I brought you doubles. Ohhh yeah. I didn’t think you’d turn it down.” Of course we didn’t. Ultimately, we must accept our truths in order to know what we’re up against and how and where we shall progress to. Screen Shot 2015-02-14 at 9.01.07 PM At the end of the day I think we can all agree in saying, “I just want to be successful.”


With Love always from Miami,




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s