Emotional Investing.
I talk a lot about relationships being currency. Investments we make. Investments we make into other people, into relationships. And no, I'm not shallow enough to suggest that people are worth more than others or have more worth than others. But I am suggesting that we choose to invest in others and those investments mean something. The more you invest, the greater the reward; on the flip side, the greater the risk.
With currency, you can make an investment, an emotionally detached decision, and maybe your bank account grows and maybe it's a crappy investment and your funds disappear. There's a sting there, I get that. But it's money. It's not people. There's not the same absence or void you suddenly experience and feel when an investment you made into a person goes away.
I'm cognizant that in the same way that money doesn't grow on trees and there's no endless supply, my emotional energy is also limited. I can't invest in every single person and I can't invest the same amount of emotional energy into each person. The currency analogy of only having $1.00 and thinking through who the quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies are in my life has been invaluable (no pun intended) for taking stock of my relationships. Who are the anchors, the quarters and dimes? Who ebb and flow through the seasons, the nickels? Who do I give too much currency to that doesn't return the favor?
I was in Pittsburgh over the Fourth of July visiting my childhood best friend (we've known each other for about 30 years) and we were discussing how I am quick to invest in others and struggle to detach and disconnect when the relationship runs its course. I don't know what that says about me. The willingness to want to stay connected and invested in relationships that maybe were never meant to be. I'm still figuring that out. And giving myself grace through that process. I've considered what it might look like to invest less on the front end. More conservative. Less risk. Or better yet, diversify my portfolio and not invest too much in any one place (or person).
The problem: It's just not me. Never really has been.
Though there are moments when I'm feeling really frustrated, really tired, really angry, really sad, I continue to remain optimistic. I'm not bitter, not jaded. I'm confident all these squandered investments are giving me the grit, resilience, grace and compassion I need to be ready for the right investments. The better and smarter investments. I know the partner I've been praying for, preparing for, and hoping for will be the right investment. And until then, I'll continue to work on letting go of and making peace with the bad investments, investing in myself when I need to practice radical self-love, and celebrating the great investments I have made and the incredible support network I have around me.
With currency, you can make an investment, an emotionally detached decision, and maybe your bank account grows and maybe it's a crappy investment and your funds disappear. There's a sting there, I get that. But it's money. It's not people. There's not the same absence or void you suddenly experience and feel when an investment you made into a person goes away.
I'm cognizant that in the same way that money doesn't grow on trees and there's no endless supply, my emotional energy is also limited. I can't invest in every single person and I can't invest the same amount of emotional energy into each person. The currency analogy of only having $1.00 and thinking through who the quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies are in my life has been invaluable (no pun intended) for taking stock of my relationships. Who are the anchors, the quarters and dimes? Who ebb and flow through the seasons, the nickels? Who do I give too much currency to that doesn't return the favor?
I was in Pittsburgh over the Fourth of July visiting my childhood best friend (we've known each other for about 30 years) and we were discussing how I am quick to invest in others and struggle to detach and disconnect when the relationship runs its course. I don't know what that says about me. The willingness to want to stay connected and invested in relationships that maybe were never meant to be. I'm still figuring that out. And giving myself grace through that process. I've considered what it might look like to invest less on the front end. More conservative. Less risk. Or better yet, diversify my portfolio and not invest too much in any one place (or person).
The problem: It's just not me. Never really has been.
Though there are moments when I'm feeling really frustrated, really tired, really angry, really sad, I continue to remain optimistic. I'm not bitter, not jaded. I'm confident all these squandered investments are giving me the grit, resilience, grace and compassion I need to be ready for the right investments. The better and smarter investments. I know the partner I've been praying for, preparing for, and hoping for will be the right investment. And until then, I'll continue to work on letting go of and making peace with the bad investments, investing in myself when I need to practice radical self-love, and celebrating the great investments I have made and the incredible support network I have around me.
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