The older I get the more aware I am of my insecurities. Physical, emotional, and--bugger of all buggers--financial. In an effort to stop feeling like money woes are some dirty little secret I shouldn't speak about in public, I'm going to try to put into words the way money makes me feel.
When I have it--and I don't mean piles in which I roll naked while listening to Jay-Z sing 100 Bills--but when I have enough financial security to get through the month without nickel and diming til the next paycheck, I feel fantastic. Like I am the smartest, most cash savvy lady on the planet. When I don't have it, though--when I am looking up paycheck dates to see when I'll get a little relief--I feel like a clueless little girl who can't get her shit together enough to have more than $20 in her savings account.
Geneen Roth, in her book Lost & Found: One Woman's Story of Losing Her Money and Finding Her Life, writes about the reluctance we have as people--and as women especially--to talk about money. Like somehow having it, or not having it, comes with so many subtle and scary consequences that we put our heads down and just pretend it's all okay when maybe, in reality, it isn't. And for me, it isn't. I know someday everything will work itself out. I know if I work hard, have faith, believe in a better tomorrow, and put as much love in to the world as I can, my life will be meaningful and joyous. But it won't be easy. And today, I am wishing it could be a little easier.
My problems stem, mostly, from being naive when I got divorced. I wound up with credit card debt from trying to hang on to the house we owned until I could put it on the market, so now I'm sitting under a stack of bills. Every trick recommended by budget books, websites, savings articles, and Pinterest tips has been implemented, and it's still a pretty rocky road.
Do I have enough to get by? Yes. I can pay all of my bills and have about $100 a week for food, gas, and entertainment left over. But that's $400 to cover all the incidentals you don't think about, too, like the dog collar I had to buy today because Zelda's three year old one finally gave out, or the air filters I had to replace because my landlord, for some reason, doesn't do that.
What does all this mean? It means that I live in a pretty heightened state of money related anxiety most of the time. I fear for any emergency that might come up, be it medical or automotive, personal or familial. How would I be able to handle it? The truth is, I don't know. And, the even more shocking truth is that it would only take $10,000 to change my life. That's it. My credit cards and medical bills would be paid off, I'd have money to put in to savings each month, and I wouldn't have to worry about each and every dime. But there's no ten thousand dollar lotto ticket in my future, so I am pushing on as best I can for now.
Why is this topic worthy of a blogpost? In his book How to Read and Why, Harold Bloom posits that we read to feel less alone. That has always been true for me; the plights of others writ large across the pages of books have brought me immeasurable comfort in my 37 years. Today, though, I thought I'd give the other side of it a shot. I know I am not the only person who struggles with financial fear, and by saying it out loud I hope to make someone feel a little less alone.
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