By Michael Chatman
11 March 2004

My wife Sandy is a bit odd. A few nights ago, she woke me from a sound sleep. "Listen!" she whispered in a terrified voice. I was instantly awake. I couldn’t get my eyes open wide enough to see in the dark. "There it is again," she hissed.

My heart was pounding. I still couldn’t see, but I was trying. My eyes bulged outward as if that might help me see in the dark. I was waiting for the gun to go off or the ax to fall.

"It’s in the garage," she said, squeezing my arm so hard the blood ceased to flow to my fingers. Several times I tried to get her to give me more information. "Shhhhh!" she interrupted. "What if he escaped from somewhere?"

Now she was letting her imagination run wild. "What if he has a chain saw?" she gasped. The fingers on my left hand were now black and blue. Suddenly, with a violent little shove, she pushed me out of bed with a command: "Go see."

"Let me see if I have this right," I whispered back. "You think there’s someone in the garage?" "Yes," she answered. "I heard the noise."

"And you think he escaped from somewhere," I confirmed. "Yes - what if he escaped from one of those crazy places?" she whimpered.

"And you’re fairly certain he has a chain saw, right?"

"Yes! Like in those horror movies! What if he’s planning to cut us up?" said Sandy. "And you want me to confront him," I growled, "in my Fruit of the Loom underwear?"

How heroic could I possibly be? I could just see myself standing in my underwear facing some burly psycho waving a chain saw. I’d shout, "Hey, you! Take your chainsaw and get out of here!" If he didn’t respond, what would I do - scare him by snapping the elastic in my shorts?

Perhaps you think I’m being unfair to Sandy. Not so. I’m being more than fair. She is a bit odd, and I love her that way. I’m convinced that one of the reasons we’ve been married for more than 10 years is because we’re free to laugh with each other about these things.

Sandy has never asked me to stop telling any story I’ve shared with audiences over the years. There are stories I’ve chosen not to tell, but this isn’t one of them. Hundreds of men and women have told me similar experiences in their homes.

I shared the chainsaw story with a large audience one evening. Returning to my seat, I found Sandy laughing uncontrollably. "What has gotten into you?" I asked.

"I was just thinking," she said stifling her laughter. "I’ve seen your underwear. I think you could hold off a man with a chainsaw." Touche’!

After my first year of marriage, I lost track of how much sleep I’d missed after waking to the words, "Did you hear that?" It always turned out to be a romantic cat prowling beneath the bedroom window, or a pet that was accidentally locked in the garage. Never once was it a guy with a chainsaw.

All negative emotions loom larger in the dark. Problems invariably seem bleaker. Sometimes I’ll lie awake thinking about my financial portfolio or a real estate investment. The darkness amplifies the issue until it seems insurmountable. Guilt and fear thrive in darkness.

But the dawn brings us new hope and a brighter outlook. The chainsaw stalker now strikes us as amusing. Nightmares and other bumps in the night lose their power in the fresh morning light, and the accuser slinks away. Darkness provides an ideal setting for negative thinking.

If you find yourself making key financial decisions in the dark; if your life is being gripped tightly by feelings of guilt; or if you fear being caught in your underwear facing chainsaws - it’s time to move into the light and get a new lease on life. It’s time to live your dreams, and not your fears!

Michael Chatman has spoken to more than two million young adults from coast to coast. He is also the author of "Mom… Dad… What Were You Thinking? Seven Ways to Build Wealth and Prove You’re Financially Smarter Than Your Parents." You can contact him at info@michaelchatman.com.

Copyright © 2004. YOUNG MONEY®