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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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The $60 Pot Of Tea

posted 29th June 2010    Written by: Nicole Antoinette    CATEGORY: Job/Career/Work, Money, Nicole Antoinette, Season 2

There’s a tea house here in San Francisco that sells, among it’s regularly priced items, a $60 pot of tea.

When I first saw it on the menu, I thought it had to be a typo. I mean, $60? For tea? I called the waitress over and asked and she told me that no, it wasn’t a typo and that a singular pot of that particular tea really did cost $60. I stared at her. She stared back.

I asked if the tea would either a) make me high or b) come over and do my laundry. She said no. I told her I was kidding. She didn’t laugh.

But I did. Well, until I didn’t. Until I realized that there are seriously people out there who spend $60 on tea. $60! On! Tea! Maybe everyone who does this is considerably older than me, I thought. Or maybe they’re trust fund babies. Or maybe they just know what in the hell they’re doing when it comes to being 25 and being smart with money at the same time.

Not that I’m bad with money, I’m not. I’m a meticulous (read: anal) budget keeper, I pay my quarterly taxes on time, I don’t have any credit card debt, and I still can’t fathom being able to spend $60 on tea without having a stroke over it. Being 25 feels like a weird financial age. It feels like an age where if you took a sample of the financial situations of the people I spend my time with, everything would be scattered and you wouldn’t get anything close to equal results.

In college, I felt like people were more or less operating on similar budgets – namely, everyone was broke.

Being broke was almost the hip-ish thing in college, wasn’t it? We all bonded by complaining about how expensive everything was, searching out the best possible drink deals, and signing for student loans we couldn’t imagine having to pay back. But after we graduated, we all went in different directions. I have friends who went the serious relationship route, joining their finances with someone else and plunging on toward marriage. I have friends who went straight to grad school, friends who jumped into the corporate thing, friends who moved back in with their parents, and then there’s me. I went from graduating early to a series of non-traditional jobs, one after another, and I’m still following a similarly road-map-free path. I’ve never had a 401K, never had any formal financial guidance, and am only now starting to give some thought to how I’m ever going to get out from under my student loans.

Which is why this little tea incident got me thinking. I mean, if being able to taste $60 tea without simultaneously crying about potentially being homeless is on my goal list, I should probably start forging a path to get there.

The hardest thing for me when it comes to money, though, is trying to figure out where to start. It all just seems so… surreal. Having enough money to retire one day? Owning a house? Paying off my student loans? Thoughts like that seem like some sick fantasy land that I’ll never reach. I took this financial fitness quiz last night, out of curiosity, and I scored a 51. Out of 100. Which seems like a rather epic failure, but apparently I’m pretty in line with other people in their 20s, struggling to find that balance between playing hard now and saving hard for later.

I find that that’s the biggest difference between people my age when it comes to money – the now vs. later question. I have some friends who will run up their credit cards for a good time, and then I have other friends who won’t pay more than $20 for dinner. Would it be easier if we were all in the same financial situation? Sure.

But, more than anything, I think it would be easier if money weren’t such a taboo topic, if friends were more comfortable discussing it in detail as if it were any other conversation.

*Disclaimer: This post is part of the 20SB Blog Carnival: Friends & Money, sponsored by Charles Schwab. Prizes may be awarded to selected posts. The information and opinions expressed in this post do not reflect the views or opinions of Charles Schwab. Details on the event, eligibility, and a complete list of participating bloggers can be found here.*

{photo credit: Photos8.com}

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