Wow, two years since I've written on this platform.
So much of my process has been through writing in life, which is probably why I find myself writing the most when I'm struggling. Writing helps me through the material of the pain. It helps me digest the difficulties and find my way out.
This post is going to be some more of that, but ending with a positive declaration for myself. I am sharing it with you because I believe our stories change one another's. We have all seen how enough people standing up to say, "Me, too" to someone's story can tip the scales of an entire culture. This is me sharing my portion of a different type of "Me, too" story, one that I've only had in the most intimate of conversations. Even in that safe space, I haven't cared to mention it often. That is how raw and vulnerable it has felt to me. It would spur on full-blown nausea unless I changed the subject quickly. Even now, my heartbeat quickens at the thought of it.
I want to change that, and I believe I have the strength to move toward change now.
What gives me strength to share this is the knowledge that I am not alone in it. I have read enough online and been met with enough resistance in trying to change to know that for the most part, this is the majority of our story as a country, as a culture, and as a generation.
This is a true problem, and it has been normalized and even encouraged by larger society. The more I lean into pursuing health in this area, the more pushback I feel from all sides (except from the side of loved ones wanting what's best for me). I am literally fighting every day, even every few hours, to keep my head above waters that have kept me under for years. But I am willing to fight, I am willing to learn how to swim through these dark waters, and I feel it's time to shine a light on this piece of my journey. Like I mentioned, it's a soft and vulnerable spot for me, so this isn't exactly comfortable to put words to. However, I've noticed enough silence on this matter to know that none of us like talking about it, and we're all uncomfortable about it together. I know some taboos need to be voiced.
So, here we go.
As far back as I can remember, I have had an issue with money.
It started as fear. My parents refused to talk about it, because that's how they were raised. I remember asking my parents point-blank how much money they made in a year, and they refused to answer me. To this day, I have no idea how much money we lived off of growing up. I can make some guesses based on our lifestyle and my dad's occupation, but that's only in retrospect as an adult. At the time as a child, I would get crippling anxiety when I would go out shopping with my mom and she'd spend more than $10 at any given store. I had no idea how much money we had, so I had no idea how big or small of an impact that $10 purchase would make on our lives. I was never comforted with the truth of the numbers at play, only comforted with something along the lines of, "Don't worry, we have enough money for this, I won't ever spend more than I should." Money was the name of this invisible, mysterious, and powerful family member that I was aware of, that I was scared of, but I was never allowed to meet in person. Money never took shape. I was just told we had it, and we are not going to talk about it with one another or with anyone else.
Money never seemed to phase my parents, at least on the outside. The only time in my life I remember Money changing our lives was when my dad got in a devastating motorcycle accident, he was in rehab for a year, and we had to move into Air Force Base housing while he recovered since he couldn't work. This didn't change my school zone, the amount of food in the kitchen, or the clothes I wore, so I wasn't too phased by it.
My dad was just starting his career at Southwest Airlines when the 2008 fiasco hit the economy, and for whatever reason Money didn't effect us then, either. Something about Southwest paying for gas at a fixed rate so their ticket prices didn't have to change, and therefore the company wasn't struggling like the other airlines. I'm not entirely sure about the ins and outs, but I add this just to emphasize the stability this mysterious thing named Money seemed to have in my life, this thing I had no control over or concept of that seemed to keep everything smooth sailing. I didn't have any experiences where poor choices with Money had catastrophic consequences for me to learn from. It's like it just did its thing behind closed doors, and all I had to do was forget it existed at all.
I remember asking my dad about financial advice a few years ago; I was asking him how I could effectively save for a large purchase, around $5000 total. His response? He said if I still wanted that thing in a year's time, he would pay for it himself as a gift. That's a great example of what financial advice looked like my entire life; it looked like weird agreements where kids jumped through hoops and parents pay for everything. (For the record, I did not take him up on this, because I was clear-headed enough to know that this was not a healthy idea)
I remember shopping trips with my mom, where we would grab lunch or a Starbucks and then buy whatever we needed or liked. Brand-name food products, never checking the price. It's like that family member named Money was secretly in the car with us, taking care of it all behind us as we moved on to the next thing. We were just having quality time together and all this stuff was the setting and props to connect with one another. I saw how Money took care of us, took care of me, and gave me the freedom to do what I wanted. So I learned - I do me, and Money figures it out later. My fears were slightly lessened over time.
Even when I moved out on my own in 2009, my parents paid for almost every monthly bill I had. I had to buy my own groceries, products, clothing, etc. but the important stuff was still covered by my parents at the age of 20. Money was starting to slowly introduce itself to me, but only in lighthearted and harmless ways. There were plenty of times over the following few years where I spent it poorly and my mom would bail me out via buying my groceries for me. I would casually mention I would have to live off of Saltines and soup until I got paid in two days (nothing ever dangerous to my health), and my parents would insist on helping me out with some extra cash. I think they truly loved taking care of their kids in this way. I don't resent them for it. I do, however, believe I missed out on some healthy consequences of my actions that would have sucked in the moment, but would have taught me valuable lessons for my future.
Money shifted from fear into comfort. I remember my first time impulse shopping online. It was the day after an event I was forced to stay at for hours, trapped in this toxic conversation with an old friend that induced shame and regret and depression. For the first time in my life at the age of 22, I distracted myself with online "window shopping" and found a few things I liked. Immediately, my feelings from that conversation were projected onto this shopping situation. I felt like I would be trapped feeling this way unless I bought these things for myself. Please, something, anything, I need some fresh air, I need some joy here, I need to know things are going to be okay. Based entirely on emotion without a shred of logic, I bought those things from my living room couch. I couldn't even tell you what they were. But ya know what? I felt better. I felt comforted. I felt in control of something. That's where "retail therapy" started for me. I turned to clothes shopping for a pick-me-up whenever life got hard.
Money morphed from pure comfort into status. I went through several months of painful conversations that made me feel small and shameful (sensing a theme, here?). Without getting too specific, I was unintentionally made to feel like my ticket to acceptance, belonging, even love, was through my appearance, and my current look was missing the mark by a landslide. I was convinced that getting my clothes, hair, and makeup in tip top shape would be all I needed to access the things I wanted in life. There are so many levels to this story, I wish I could grab coffee with you and visit every level there is. But there's no time for that, and the gist of this experience is that I felt like I was finally seeing blindspots in how I came across to other people visually, and I wanted to immediately change that look. This led to a few years of very, very, very poor financial choices. I donated practically every piece of clothing I owned, disgusted with myself for ever thinking it was cute. I replaced said wardrobe slowly over time, but still selected items that were on the pricier side. Something in me deeply believed that if I don't buy "nice" things, I'll end up looking as lame as I used to. And if that happened, I'd feel that shame all over again, so screw that. I'm buying these $200 shoes. That $40 face wash. This $50 shirt. I need to feel WORTHY of these nice things, because if I face that fact that my bank account doesn't like this idea, then I'm facing the fact that I'm worth a pile of crap. I can't accept that. I'm buying this now and figuring out my bills later.
This feels worth mentioning, for the sake of transparency: the honest truth is that I probably feel better about my appearance than ever before; I enter a room more confidently, my hair and skin have never been healthier, and I get compliments on my style all the time. I don't regret the specific changes I made, but I made those changes through traveling the worst road to get there. It's like an overweight person losing weight through an eating disorder. The end doesn't justify the means. The same way we'd all want that person to find a healthy way to maintain their new lower weight, I want to find a healthy way to maintain my improved appearance, never again traveling the road of shame and anxiety to get there.
Money didn't take real shape for me until a few months ago. Guess what happened? I had to file taxes as self-employed.
You can safely assume that I blew off quarterly taxes. Money takes care of itself behind closed doors, right?
You can also safely assume that I didn't save a dime for this moment.
Because Money is for getting what I want! Money takes care of ME! Money is for maintaining my appearance in ways that I enjoy! Money is not for hoarding and agonizing over, the way I felt like anyone good at saving Money comes across. Money isn't to be thought of or talked about often, Money is for FUN and FREEDOM! Money silently sits in the back seat of the car, taking care of things behind me while I move forward!
...yeahhhhh no.
As you can see, Money has been bigger than numbers on a page for me. It's deeper. More personal. More important. More emotional. Money has been a toxic parent that I've wanted to take care of me so that I feel safe and comforted and lovable, but it can't. Because it's numbers. Neutral, cold, unfeeling numbers.
Numbers I have to learn how to control, or else they will control me.
And so, I'm writing to you now to declare my difficult but necessary break-up with Money, or at least what I thought Money was for me. That perception of Money has me in a shitty place with a tough road to walk to get out of. I have an amazing support system to get me through it, but it also feels like years of painful but healthy consequences catching up to me at the age of 30. I have no choice but to be ready for it, and take it a day at a time.
You know how I know I'm not alone in this?
Because of Instagram and Facebook advertisements asking for your money.
Because of influencers always trying to sell products for your money.
Because of alternative medicines trying to sell magical potions that cure all things for your money.
Because of email subscriptions of "flash sales" and "exclusive access to new products" for your money.
Because leaving this mindset is going against the capitalist grain of "You don't have enough until you buy this. You are special and scrappy enough to get this at a lower price than its value, but that won't last for long, so hurry up and grab it. My life wouldn't be as marvelous as I portray it to be on Instagram without this thing here; if you buy it, your life will be like mine. All it takes for you is some money."
I know I'm not alone in this because I am NOT the only one being tempted to spend their money on stuff that sells a lifestyle or a look we want to be part of.
For me, it's been beauty products and clothing. Maybe for you, it's eating out at hip restaurants? Getting your groceries at specific stores? Buying coffees at shops everyday so that you're seen holding that cup around town or in pictures? Alternative medicines that give you hope in a better quality of life? Something about knowing we're all in this together gives me even more strength to walk this road of financial recovery.
We all have a story with Money. Money played a role in our childhoods, healthily or unhealthily. We all have a history with Money, and we're all living in a culture where Money determines your quality of life, for better or worse. Which means our stories with Money will accompany us to our graves.
As I own my story with Money, I gain the strength and power to author a new ending to that story. I'm stealing that philosophy from Dr. Brené Brown, whose words are helping me through the emotional elements of facing this monster. That's what Money feels like to the little girl in me; a scary monster that I have no control over, that will make me feel the deepest shame if I look it in the eye and try to mess with it. My coping mechanisms have been reinforcing its power: I avoid Money, Money has power over me, I feel shame about my choices, so I avoid Money. Rinse and repeat. But no more.
This past week, I bought a few pieces of clothing to refresh my warm season wardrobe as Spring approaches. Since I bought a few sweaters last Winter to refresh my cold season wardrobe, I have decided that I will not buy any more clothing this year. I am not going to devote any more of 2019's money to it.
Even making that singular mental shift has felt freeing, like I can narrow my focus on what really matters. But rest assured, that is not the only shift I need to make.
I am starting a budget for the first time in my life. I am going to be studying finances instead of online window shopping or scrolling Pinterest in my free time. I am going to finally look Money in the eye, steal its power, put up some boundaries, and close myself off from the lies of our society enticing me to buy the kind of life I want for myself. I already have the kind of life I want for myself. I have everything I need that marketing - incessant, intelligent, invasive marketing - tries to tell me is not mine yet.
This is a long and hard road already, but sharing my story helps keep me accountable to it. I want anyone reading this experiencing a similar struggle to know that you're not alone, ending up here is not entirely your fault, but it is entirely your responsibility to fix it.
I'm finally taking responsibility. It feels sobering, but also life-giving.
Money, I'm tearing you apart and telling the fairytales in advertising to shut up while I do so. You will ruin my life if I keep pretending you don't exist. You do exist. And now that I can see you, you're small and lifeless and maybe, for me, one day, you'll be just numbers.
