My Complicated Relationship with Money

Money has always been a touchy subject for me.

Not because I’m scared to talk about the practicalities of money and it’s necessity to live.

But rather, I’m scared to admit that I’m horrible with money.

Scared to admit that I can’t take care of myself without the help of others.

Ashamed that I can’t provide for those I care about most.

Money is a complicated subject because we all have different relationships and views on money. I’m not here to convince people of a philosophy, rather I’m here to speak candidly about my financial struggles. In no way is my financial struggle the worst out there. There are people who have it far worse than me, and I share immense empathy for their unique struggle, though I hope people can attempt to understand my complicated relationship with money, and maybe save yourself from my glaring mistakes.

That being said, do not feel bad for me. These are my mistakes, and through writing this post, I hope to inspire financial change in myself. That is all. Without acknowledgement and accountability, these financial mistakes could be swept under the rug. Without accountability, these mistakes would repeat. I do not want them to repeat.

My whole family calls me the spender of the household. Money dissolves from my pockets. It’s slippery. I can’t get a grip strong enough to hold on, let alone save some.

I know it’s my fault. I know that no matter where you come from, financial freedom isn’t about how much money you have, but about living below your means. Building healthy financial habits is universal. It’s the only way to properly support the lifestyle you live.

Yet, I’ve never been able to build those habits.

My dad has always been one to research products extensively, seeking to discover the perfect blend of affordability and quality. He instilled this trait within me, yet I failed to pick up on the whole “affordable” portion. You see, I like nice things.

This has led me to waste my money on things I don’t need. Food, trinkets, computer gear, camera gear, laptops, decor, clothes, or whatever other spontaneous obsession I convince myself I absolutely need. I have a knack for quality goods, though I know I don’t need them.

The most irresponsible purchase I’ve ever made? The Teenage Engineering Choir. I spent nearly $1250 on 5 dolls that hum choir tunes in sync with one another. Cool? I guess. But hindsight hits like a fucking truck, and I’m reminded just how little I need these cute little bastards.

And yet, I found a way to rationalize the purchase.

“They aren’t gonna be in stock forever…”

“Think of how relaxed you’ll be after a long day, chillin with the choir”

“You know you can connect your bluetooth piano to them, right? Think of all the cool music you could make! Your friends would love it!”

…the delusion goes on.

You may read these and go, “Yeah, these are reasons to buy something, but these are NO reason to spend ONE THOUSAND TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS on a fucking CHOIR.”

And you’d be absolutely right.

That’s a vacation with friends. That’s Christmas gifts for 3 years. That’s helping a friend in need. That’s the start to an emergency fund. That’s an investment towards your future.

And yet, I still spent the money, ignoring all the warning signs for the pleasure of acquiring goods.

Over the years, I’ve grown increasingly more shameful towards my financial habits. I’ve lied about my finances to friends and family. I’ve spent more than I should for the sake of not looking broke. I’ve verbally agreed to Venmo knowing full well I don’t have enough money to do so. Disgusting shit. Shit I’m not proud of. Behaviors that are distant from the person I strive to be.

Not having money has led me to make poor decisions, yet it’s my poor decisions that led me to have no money. This truth I’ve accepted is what adds to the mountain of shame.

This past Christmas, I couldn’t get my Mom a Christmas gift. I talked to her about it, letting her know I was unwise with my money and could not afford it. I’m saying these words while wearing the new hoodie I copped last week. She walked away and my heart sank. Can I call myself a good son?

My addiction to acquiring goods strips my ability to care for those I love. This addiction is selfish. Sometimes I convince myself it’s selfless, because I can “Share the items I buy!”, but this is bullshit. This is cope. I’d rather have an emergency fund and the ability to treat my friends to dinner once a month than buy some shiny trinket I look at til the novelty fades then habitually go purchase another.

I always thought it was the fact I never had money that led me to be poor with money.

Then I got money and was humbled, falling directly into the same habits as before, but now with more expensive taste. Now with more expensive price tags. Now with even more shame after the excitement of the purchase fades.

So now I’m back at ground zero, attempting to rebuild. Thank god I’m still young, but is that supposed to be a relief? The best years of your life for compound interest are in your twenties. Are you really going to throw it all away? It’s wise I take advantage of it and set myself up for the future, for once.

All of this boils down to my behaviors. Spending money is a behavior. Shopping is a behavior. Following through with my desire for more is a behavior. Deluding myself into needing something I don’t is a behavior.

At any time between desire and pressing the Buy Now button are numerous roadblocks that I could check myself and remind myself of the glaring irresponsibility i’m about to commit.

I’m not here to claim I’ve changed.

Change will take form in a healthy savings account, proper income, and an emergency fund.

I do not have those, but one day I will.

Let’s be realistic about what change will look like if I decide to start taking control over my finances.

If I spend less and save more, I will sacrifice:

• Eating out with friends (as often)

• Going on expensive dates

• Purchasing new gear/games/skins/experiences

• A gym membership for sake of working out at home

• Nearly all my subscriptions services

Taking control of your finances isn’t pretty. Why would it be? There’s glamour in spending money like you have it. It’s romanticized to live your rich bitch lifestyle. Yet, there’s something even more attractive:

• Set myself up for the unpredictable future

• Find immense accomplishment in watching my savings grow

• Relieve a mound of financial stress that interferes with my personal relationships/sleep

• Build habits that will allow me to make big ticket purchases such as a house, car, vacation, etc.

• Help friends when they truly need it, and take care of those I care about most (within budget)

…just to name a few.

The choice is obvious.

When I struggle, I repeat some of these concepts to myself to remind myself of my financial principles:

Just because something has value, doesn’t mean you need it.

You must be ok with missing out on things. Don’t worry, other things will come.

If it isn’t an absolute yes, it’s a NO.

You do not need money to create, you need ingenuity. Ingenuity, not money, is what allows you to do the things you wish without the need for purchasing or acquire more. Use what you've got and run it dry before thinking of spending money. Odds are, you already have enough.

Almost everything is affordable, you just haven’t made it a priority. But as a reminder: Not everything is worth affording money to. Be wise.

Sometimes these principles work. Sometimes they don’t.

Sometimes I have discipline. Sometimes I don’t.

I’d be remiss to avoid mentioning my immense gratitude for the friends, family, and for my partner, who go out of their way to support me. In the many ways they help me out, I am forever indebted to the strokes of generosity sent my way. While I am a financial failure myself, those that have taken care of me are not forgotten, and when time comes where I’m in a position to give, they will receive their dividends for helping me out.

I may not know how to budget, but I know how to count blessings.

And for that, I am thankful.

Til next time,

sapoots

(┐「ε:)🤍🌱

(Thank you for taking the time to be vulnerable with me. It means the most.)

((P.S.—This is the first part in a series about finances. I’d like to dive deeper in the shame around money. The guilt of not being able to provide, and write a blog about that. I think there are lessons tucked away in that human experience that we should all hear. Stay tuned.))

Weight of the World by sapoots