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I Admit, Money Makes Me Crazy

posted 16th March 2011    Written by: Laura    CATEGORY: Laura, Love/Relationships, Money, Season 4

So, here’s the thing. I haven’t been completely honest with all of you. Although I’ve been pretty real about where I am in my life right now, I haven’t fully acknowledged my crazies.

The crazies that have to do with money. Specifically, with spending too much of it, feeling like I need more of it, and being forced to spend it in ways I’d rather not. I don’t even know where to start, or how to admit my deep down demons in an eloquent way. So I’m just gonna write, and see what comes out.

My issue with money goes pretty far back. My parents split up when I was in junior high. One of the spin-off benefits was that my already close relationships with them got even closer. My Mom and I were like roommates and there wasn’t much parent-child censorship going on, which most of the time was pretty convenient. But other times, it meant that my Mom’s worries became my worries. Or at least, they became stressors I was acutely aware of.

Even though I worked steadily since I was 16 and my Mom’s burden of paying for our day-to-day was a heavy one, I got to spend my money on whatever I wanted. In our little non-nuclear family, my Mom worried about how to pay the bills, I spent my money on school books, booze and clothes, and my Dad paid for my education and took me out often for dinner, movies and other treats. I felt my Mom’s anxiety, benefitted from my Dad’s lean lifestyle (it’s not that he was rolling in it; it’s that his splurges were minimal), and enjoyed the rush of spending discretionary funds.

As my university degree was coming to a close, my Mom was getting ready to move in with her boyfriend. So within six weeks of my final university exam, I was living with my boyfriend, paying bills, insuring my first car, and receiving my first salary. Hunny and I worked out a bit of an expenses-sharing model that would do for the time being.

We didn’t talk about it nearly enough at the time and five years later, we still don’t. Five years later, our salaries have increased – a lot – but so have our spending habits. Our financial discussions and collaborations have not increased with them.

Our savings? Nil. Our mortgage readiness? Non existent. Our credit card debt? Growing. Or at best, cyclical; paid down, back up. Expenses we didn’t budget for? Constant. Because I don’t budget for wiggle room. At all. Hence the growing credit card debt.

But I hate debt. It makes my chest tighten, my pulse quicken, my blood pressure rise. It makes me feel 24/7 pressure to make more, or spend less. Yet, the reality of doing either to any significant extent is pretty, well, unrealistic.

To make matters worse? When I feel like I’m making progress with the crazies – you know, through peaceful thoughts, acceptance, that kind of stuff – I feel like everything other people say or do aggravate them.

Hunny talks about wanting to buy something or tells me gas went up again; my chest tightens.

My Mom stresses about not being able to afford something for herself; my mood darkens.

My Dad wants to treat me to dinner and even though I make more than enough (and more than him), I let him; because I didn’t really account for eating dinner out this week.

I check the balance of our bank account (the one Hunny and I both contribute to, but that doesn’t hold all of our money) and I hold my breath. Did he buy something I don’t know about? Did those three trips to the grocery store add up to more than they should have?

My girlfriends plan a night out for drinks and snacks, and I dread having to pay for it. Because I love the control of not spending money; although, I also like the ease I trick myself into feeling when I do spent it.

My new business partners and I crunch numbers and play around with budget projections, and fury slowly boils in my gut. I believe money can smell fear. If you worry you don’t have it, you won’t. If you wish you had more of it, you’ll have less. If you talk about it too much, the power you’re giving it will manifest in a tangible way.

I’m terrified of obsessing about it; so then I obsess about not obsessing. See? Told you. Crazies.

Don’t get me wrong – we’re fine. We have a new car, nice apartment, I buy as many vegetables as I want, I have life insurance, we contribute to RRSPs / 401Ks, and I have plenty of client projects on the books. Our little family has more than enough. My business makes more than enough. I believe both of these things to be truths, not temporary.

But in my relationship, my Hunny and I are not on the same financial page nearly enough. In my business, I have a lot of honesty to share if I want my business partners to get where I’m coming from. And in my head, I’ve got a whole lot of crazies related to one thing that is never going to go away. As certain as death and taxes is that I’ll always live in a civilization that is based on money.

Love it, fear it, loathe it; it ain’t going anywhere. Which means this girl right here? She’s got a lot of work to do. Ugh.

{Photo credit}

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Money Worry: It’s a Family Thing

posted 26th August 2010    Written by: Marian    CATEGORY: All Posts, Family, Job/Career/Work, Marian, Money, Season 3

A recurring argument in my family is that my dad will go to the grocery store and buy things we don’t need. Now, my family is big. There are six of us total and when everyone is home we’ll go through something like three gallons of milk per week. The weekly shop is epic, but my mother has now taken to accompanying my father to Costco so he doesn’t go overboard. Not because he’s an over spender, but because he is so crazed about sales. He’ll drive miles out of the way to save a few pennies on gas. He’ll buy a pound of shredded cheese that will go bad in a week because even three boys can’t eat that many quesadillas.

My grandfather was also a hardcore coupon cutter. He bought things he didn’t need. He hoarded. He bargained. He penny-pinched. He passed those traits on to my father.

In terms of my own spending habits, I’ve always worried about money. I haven’t always saved or budgeted, but the worry has always been there. Even if I have enough, I worry. For this I blame my paternal side.

To be fair to my parents, I was one of the few people at college who had worked all through high school; who had my own bank account with my own money; who understood the concept of a credit card. To be honest, I always felt a little smug because of this. For this I thank my parents.

However, much to my family’s horror, I didn’t take the traditional career route. I quit my safe job in favor of freelancing. I have yet to be properly insured, have no idea where the next check will come from and my boyfriend’s the one that forked out the cash for our crazy expensive flight to New Zealand.

My father was surprisingly supportive when I quit my PR job, saying I should always follow my dreams. Despite his support, however, there was a undertone of doubt. “Hey, you’re young and can make mistakes and be poor now before you have a family to support and bills to pay.” Basically meaning he didn’t expect me to make it big on my own. Frankly, I think both parents are holding their breath for the day I’ll finally throw in the towel on this whole self-employment thing.

Maybe because neither grew up particularly wealthy but are incredibly successful now, they feel the only way to actually make a living is the traditional way. That in terms of money the only way to make it is the way they made it. And since I’ve only been freelancing for a year I’m still not rolling in dough so I have yet to prove them wrong.

The thing is, I have a surprisingly awesome relationship with my parents. They are smart and supportive and raised me to be independent and strong-willed. I am proud of how they raised my brothers and me. That said, I harbor a small amount of resentment towards them because money is always on my mind. I figure 50% of that is The Curse of the Entrepreneur. That other 50% though is due to the fact that every phone call I have with my parents they bring up money. My dad tells me how much he made in overtime or my mom will say how little some newspaper is paying her. But I figure it’s rude of me to say “Hey! I don’t want to know this! My own money issues stress me out, I don’t want in on yours.”

Because then I feel guilty. I feel guilty for the amount of money my parents have spent on me in my 23 years. I look back on the $160,000 college education that I’m not really using, my hospital bills from a bout of surgeries my sophomore year. My trip abroad. My prom dress. I worry about money because they talk about it. I worry about it because I don’t have any. I worry about it because I worry about it and I still don’t really do anything to fix it.

That’s the thing. I stress about money all the time. I woke my boyfriend up at 3 in the morning a few weeks ago sobbing because I had no idea how I was going to pay him back for that plane ticket. A few days later I got emails from three potential clients and stopped worrying for a bit, but now I’m at it again because I don’t know what will happen when these projects are over.

I hate worrying. It consumes a huge chunk of my life, but what are my options? Take a “real” job? Go back to the 9 to 5 I hated so much? Play by somebody else rules? Give up on my idea of what I want my life – my freedom – to look like?

No. I think I’d rather worry.


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Money and Control

posted 30th June 2010    Written by: Heather Rae    CATEGORY: Heather Rae, Money, Season 2

Money and I have an interesting relationship.  I mean, I like money.  It’s great to have around when I need to do something like, say, pay the rent.  But, other than that, I kind of wish it had no part in my life.  Seriously.

Like most people, I struggle with a lifelong love-hate relationship with cash. I want it.  I want lots and lots of it.  But not so that it can be front and center in my life.  Rather, because I want the chance to completely forget about it — for once.

If my friends were to choose one word to describe how I handle my finances, they’d probably choose one of these:  frugal, cheap, careful, thrifty…or, perhaps, tight-ass.  And if we’re being honest here, I’d have to admit they’re right.  The reason I hate money is not because I don’t have enough.  For all intents and purposes, I do.  It’s because I don’t feel like I have enough.

Between having parents that fought about money pretty much every day and having a mother that told me, “It’s just as easy to marry for a rich man as it is a poor man”, I imagine it was somewhat inevitable for me to end up having anxiety when it comes to handling my finances.

There was a plus side to this.  I became fiercely financially independent.  I learned to save.  (And I mean seriously save.)  With the exception of a few student loans, I carry no debt.  I don’t use credit cards unless I can pay them in full at the end of the month.  And I’ve never depended on a beau to support me.  Never.

But then, that’s also the problem.  This fierce need to be independent, to never ask for help, to do it all on my own — well, it’s tiring.  And not only for me.  It’s tiring for my fiancé, too.

Let me give you an example.  As you know, I left my job in February.  Before making that decision, I saved for two years.  I had enough money to support my lifestyle for a year before having to return to work.

I’d say it was about two weeks after leaving my job that I broke down in tears, sobbing to the fiancé that I was afraid we’d run out of money before the year was up.  He said, “Heather, how much money do you have?”  (After a freak out like that, he was worried that perhaps I was right.)  So I told him.  He looked at me, confused.  “So what are you worried about again?”

I knew I had enough money to last the year.  But that didn’t stop me from breaking down and freaking out.

And just to make my point really clear, I’ll give you another example.  My fiancé and I are very careful to live below our means.  We figure it’s better to have extra money than risk not having enough.  Because of this, we could easily get by on one income.

You might think this would make me happy.  When the year is up and my savings run dry, I could potentially count on his income to carry us through as I continue pursuing my writing goals.  We’ve discussed this possibility.  He fully supports me and encourages me to keep doing what makes me happy and not worry about going back to work.

But instead of being happy about this, I stress.  And I nag, and I worry.

I don’t know how to let go of control when it comes to money.  I don’t know how to trust someone else to pay the bills, to take care of me, to be there for me.  And if I do.  If I let go of that control and let him take care of me, does that somehow make me weak?  Am I setting myself up for financial disaster in the future?  Am I letting another person have too much control over my life?

Yeah.  You could say I have money issues.  (And trust issues.  And control issues.  And all sorts of other issues.)

All I can tell you is I’m working on it.  I’m not there yet, but I really am making progress.  In some ways, walking away from my job was the best decision I could ever have made.  And I’m not saying that because I’m taking an opportunity to chase my dreams.  (Though that’s wonderful, too.)  Rather, It’s forced me to face my control issues head on.

I’ve had to let go of the security that comes with a stable job and learn to deal with questions. (Will this book ever sell?  Can I make it as a writer?  What if I run out of money?  Can I allow myself to trust that I don’t have to do this alone?)  So many questions.  More questions than answers.

Facing these uncertainties has helped me to make progress in so many ways.  Little by little, day by day, I feel myself letting go.  I feel myself getting more comfortable with uncertainty. And, honestly, if things do go terribly wrong, I’m pretty sure I would handle it better than I would have prior to this experience.

It’s funny how that works sometimes.  I left my job for no other reason than to chase a few dreams.  And I’ve ended up getting so much more from that decision.  Now that’s a good thing.

photo credit: Toban Black

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