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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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