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I always took pride in the fact that I wasn’t financially dependent on my partner.
Unlike my mom and grandmothers—who’d each married young and went the more traditional route—I had convinced myself (indignantly) that I was somehow…superior. That was until I became single at 28 and moved out of the home I shared with my now, ex, boyfriend.
Cue the biggest of reality checks (quite possibly ever).
Fast forward two months later. I find myself renting a room from a friend, now cohabiting with her and her two children. It is payday (which used to be a joyous occasion reserved for indulgent dinners and wardrobe revamps), and somehow I have already spent all of my money.
My questionable spending habits are now fully on display before me.
The blissful ignorance I assuaged myself with when I considered (and decided against) prioritizing savings was due to my reliance on the safety net of my long-term boyfriend. I technically paid all of my own bills…but did the line start to blur when his business flourished and his card was swiped more often than my own? Naturally.
It feels like I’ve squandered every penny I’ve made in the last 11 years since I started working full-time at 17. It’s as if every purchase I’ve ever made suddenly flashes before my eyes in a dramatic montage fit for the big screen. A hot, frustrated tear rolls down my cheek as I realize I have no choice but to lay in the bed I’ve carefully made with my habitual avoidance and “good intentions.”
I finally realize I’ve been holding my breath when I’m halfway down a webpage where I am registering to donate plasma.
I almost laugh to myself remembering hearing about clinical trial infomercials as a child. How much does one get paid to become a walking, talking medical experiment?
I had also googled Feet Finder in another tab…or should I fire up the old OnlyFans? That was something I’d tried years ago, and I was pleasantly surprised to find out how lucrative that could be. The unpleasant surprise came when I realized that momentary high of being adored and admired or the brief way I’d felt empowered by taking back my sexuality, both had an expiration date. The exhilaration wore off and it started to feel like self-induced exploitation.
A third, worse thing occurs to me (yes, worse than clinical trials and an unwanted side-hustle doing internet sex work)…if I didn’t have a dog I could live in my car.
Disclaimer: I’d sleep on a park bench with my dog before I’d ever consider getting rid of her (because seriously, I would never).
But I was starting to imagine that living in my car could have its benefits. First and foremost, I’d be forced to go to the gym every day. I found myself guessing that the second best thing would be how quickly those dire straits would effectively result in amassing savings.
I tried to make sense of the fact that I was now romanticizing being homeless (because that girl on TikTok did it and her life really turned around!).
As I stare at my chaotic search history, I try to make sense of a few different things:
>> I have decent job. One that requires years of experience in my field. One that pays 40k a year.
>>I live in a state (Florida) where my full-time, tax-paying, 401k-investing career cannot afford to support a single income household of my own.
>> Indeed listings for my job in Knoxville, Tennessee state it “meets the cost of living” (something I never even knew existed as a feature on a potential job listing until today)
>> Maybe college is a necessary evil? (Right now my unfinished degree and student loans do feel pretty evil).
>> I can’t be responsible for the state of our country…but I do need to do better being responsible for myself. Should I feel shame for not being taught financial literacy? No, not necessarily. But should I feel shame for sitting idly by acting like a bystander to my circumstances that I played (the biggest) part in making? Yes.
The other day my roommate’s nine-year-old daughter was debating with us “adults” whether or not money can buy happiness.
I have settled on this:
Money can’t buy happiness, but it does purchase peace of mind.
I’d like to be financially secure enough to own my own home (or even pay my own rent in full), but as I struggle along, saving, scrimping, and budgeting more than I ever have before, I realized…I am still happy. The future looms, nerve-wracking in its uncertainty, but I am facing it head on. One thing is for certain, I am finally gaining my independence, even if its hard earned, one well-intentioned mistake at a time.
~
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