I was one of the many who were caught short by the 2008 crisis, one of the many who had strongly (and wrongly) believed in the solidity of banks. Everything I had was in bank shares. I went from having some money to having none overnight. Literally.

I had worked hard and saved hard for that money. And in a flash, it was gone, taking with it any sense of security I had.

Many moons ago, I did three rounds of interviews for a job that paid $6/hour. When my pharma-rep Honda-Prelude-driving salary-and-commission friend asked me to skive off work for a play day, I’d agree only if she wrote me a cheque for $48 to cover lost wages. If I didn’t work, I didn’t get paid.

Life was simpler then.

I had very little so I had little to worry about. But no matter how little I had, I always had enough.

As the years progressed, fortunes changed.

On the brink of a six-figure salary, I had a flash of insight. I knew that if I crossed the line, I’d be doomed. Money, rather than being a means to an end would become the end itself.

So, I did what many do on the TV quiz shows – I cashed out. I didn’t risk it all on a final play that, if successful, would see me earning some serious dosh. Instead, I took an 80% cut in pay and went back to where I wanted to be.

I went home.

Life was good. Until the crash. Until I lost it all.

I had to start over. And I did. I worked hard. I saved hard. But that nagging insecurity wouldn’t go away.

Others got into cryptocurrencies and made millions. I couldn’t take that risk.

More still had investment portfolios, buying and selling stocks and shares, trading up – bigger cars, bigger houses, more holidays. Not me.

And it wasn’t just money.

Numerous friends have had eye surgery to correct their vision. I’d love to not have to wear glasses but that eye surgery stuff? Nah. It’s only been around 30 years. It’s far too soon.

Risk-averse. Me.

Today, I helped himself move large sheets of wood into the barn. After six weeks of waiting, we had a delivery yesterday to floor a 220 sqm attic. It’s part of an ongoing renovation that’s only about three years behind schedule. Earlier on, in the project, I’d lie awake at night wondering what I’d gotten myself into. I’d worry that I’d never get the money to finish the next step. I’d tie myself in knots at the thoughts of eggs and baskets and a repeat of 2008 – this time for political rather than economic reasons.

But somewhere, the fear abated, replaced by a certainty that although nothing looks like it’s going to plan, everything is under control.

The compulsion I feel to finish this project is driven by forces far stronger than I. It’s literally in God’s hands.

The inimitable John O’Donohue, in his poem For a New Beginning, sums the journey up beautifully:

It watched you play with the seduction of safety

And the gray promises that sameness whispered,

Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent,

Wondered would you always live like this.

Then the delight, when your courage kindled,

And out you stepped onto new ground,

Your eyes young again with energy and dream,

A path of plenitude opening before you.

Though your destination is not yet clear

You can trust the promise of this opening;

Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning

That is at one with your life’s desire.