My money habits
So I'm reading "The Simple Dollar" and he is telling the story of his financial history and inspiring me to do the same. Here goes:
My earliest memory of money was that if I looked at something I wanted at a store but didn't ask for it, my mom would buy it for me. I always felt guilty about asking for something I wanted, but I knew if I stared and acted mournful I'd get my way. This was the seeding of victim mentality.
Whenever I got money at Christmas in the form of savings bonds etc they were immediately squirreled away by my mother- I still don't even know where they are. The first money I got I remember spending on a "turtle" trike type thing... it was $24... I thought that was so much! I immediately felt funny about having spent the money afterwards and wished I had it instead of the turtle. I don't remember if I rode that thing that much- I don't have tons of memories of it so I'm guessing no.
I never wanted for anything in my early childhood. Even babysitters would shower me with gifts. We had a maid that cleaned the large nice house and mom cooked dinner most nights. I never heard her worry about money. I got an allowance but I think I always saved it cause I didn't really need it then- or mom would sorta direct how i spent it. I didn't save money for my first car at 16... i got money from my grandfather to buy it. I bought the car my mom pretty much picked cause I was too intimidated or lazy to research it on my own. When I got my first speeding ticket my mom hired a lawyer to take care of it for me. Basically this first part of my life I wasn't responsible for anything and didn't learn to trust my own judgement, understand the value of things or space, and felt some guilt associated with spending money. I also felt like mom had a never ending cash supply.
When I was 12 or so our house burnt almost to the ground. My mom took care of everything before my sister and I got back into town from the beach. I think this happening affected me more than I realized. After the fire we went through everything we'd ever owned and I worked for the fire restoration company sorting through our damaged goods. I remember deciding to throw massive quantities of things away. I really felt a deep sense of "things don't matter that much" from that event. Everything will eventually get thrown away" and the only important thing are people.... a good lesson in one way... but not if I now feel like I'd like to be surrounded by nice things. After the fire we went on big spending sprees to buy everything we needed again. Mom always did that with me and clothes- we'd buy lots at one time. If I couldn't pick between things, we'd usually get both. I still played the "talk me into it" dynamic with her. It still worked. I think my respect for the value of things continued to decline with these events.
My first job was at 15 at The Gap. I hated it. I felt like everyone there dumped on me and the tasks seemed pointless. I spent a lot of the money i made on deeply discounted clothes there. I ended up with a lot of clothes that weren't really my style. I saved some, I think.
After The Gap I had a long string of waitressing jobs- cash always in hand. I rarely deposited it to the bank. I did not pay my tuition in college or dorm... none of the essentials but I did pay for my pleasures... gas, food, clothes etc. My young adulthood my spending habits were focused on purchasing instant gratification items. I didn't understand taxes, didn't have a saving habit... just did that randomly, and didn't understand investing at all. Anything besides piggy-bank mentality seemed obscure and too adult to me- like my mom was a supreme being of knowledge and I'd never know money as well as her. Why wouldn't I think that? She had been responsible for everything important financially and the management of it so far anyway.
I didn't have a credit card in college. I was to scared of them- had heard horror stories. I don't clearly remember when I got my first discover card. I remember finally getting that one because it seemed "less real" than a Visa or Mastercard. For years I had only that one card and didn't have a habit of paying more than the minimum, on time, or paying it off. I think I got it right out of college to help buy house supplies... what a waste looking back. I was also dating poor" guys who didn't focus on education or investing.
Also at that time 911 occurred. I had a severe panic attack as a reaction. For months I couldn't get over how out-of-control reality suddenly seemed. It really just shook me to the core and beyond. The fact that such horrible things could happen... the way they kept saying "nothing will ever be the same again" over and over on the radio... the way comedians couldn't joke... horrible images were everywhere... our country seemed to dive head first into unilateral thinking (which scared me too) and our country plunged into a really dark time. I became super serious. I felt alienated from everyone around me. I was terrified by my anxiety and controlled by it for the first time (first very evident time). I began to distrust adults and feel like the world was one big out-of-control chaos. I realized that there ultimately was no where to hide from bad things. I guess I lost my naivete in a sudden violent way. I also looked at the violence in the world and in other humans and began worrying about whether that violence lied in me.
I thought about killing, suicide, and the freakiness of free will A LOT... and that made me even more freaked out. For a long long time I obsessively pricked myself with the idea that I could kill myself... no one could stop me. That terrified me. Then after reading a Maxim magazine article about one of Saddam's sons torturing people (it was very gruesomely detailed) i realized I had the power to kill other people... and that terrified me too.
These worries became repetitive thoughts that stoked my anxiety. The fact that I had the thoughts made me feel like there was something wrong with me... and the way my brain would repetitively bring them up in times of quiet or joy ensured that my mental and emotional life was not good. Looking back, I see that I was terrorizing myself. Perhaps I was terrorizing myself because 911 had made me feel so unsafe that I now distrusted having a sense of peace or control. By pricking myself with dark thoughts on a regular basis... I ensured that I wouldn't be terrified by surprise or dealt something I couldn't handle... because I was always scared and on alert already! I think this also tied in with my foundation of doubting my own decision making abilities and never having that much control over my own life... always deferring to my mom.
Emotionally I became obsessed with my roommate and eventual lover who was emotionally unavailable and verbally and emotionally abusive. His hard attitude, the fact that he was at a different point in his life, and his rejection of me felt authoritative and safe. Perhaps focusing on my emotions for him and the misery and drama he evoked from me was easier than coping with my feelings of anxiety that peaked when I was with Jeff before him. My anxiety began to subtly terrorize my life. I didn't like to go out to eat with people - it made me feel trapped. I also went through a long long period of getting anxiety from riding as a passenger in a car. Both are situations in which you are tangential with someone else and not fully in control. I was miserable. I stayed in Chapel Hill for a summer after I graduated and didn't find a job (was dealing with a lot emotionally certainly) and eventually ran out of money and moved home.
I moved in with my mom and took a long time finding a job. Finally I got another waitressing job making a miserable $30 a day. It didn't matter cause I was living under her roof and eating her food. I was focused purely on my ex-roomate crush and dealing with my anxiety. I started having fights with my mom and eventually she demanded I move out. I found a somewhat crappy apartment that i was initially excited about, and at that point we were on speaking terms again and she wanted to see it. She thought the place was crappy and dangerous and refused for me to move in there. She found a "nicer" place through one of her friends that cost way more and was 2 houses down from her. I let my mom talk me into moving into an apartment that was more expensive than I wanted to pay (and with no roomates) and kept waiting tables... I had low self-esteem in that I didn't trust my own decision making, esp. when it came to money and work. Why should I at that point? I'd never really had to be responsible for either in a real-world sense. I was not saving any real money at all- I was just living 3 months ahead. Then my dad died.
When my dad died I gained a large inheritance.
My earliest memory of money was that if I looked at something I wanted at a store but didn't ask for it, my mom would buy it for me. I always felt guilty about asking for something I wanted, but I knew if I stared and acted mournful I'd get my way. This was the seeding of victim mentality.
Whenever I got money at Christmas in the form of savings bonds etc they were immediately squirreled away by my mother- I still don't even know where they are. The first money I got I remember spending on a "turtle" trike type thing... it was $24... I thought that was so much! I immediately felt funny about having spent the money afterwards and wished I had it instead of the turtle. I don't remember if I rode that thing that much- I don't have tons of memories of it so I'm guessing no.
I never wanted for anything in my early childhood. Even babysitters would shower me with gifts. We had a maid that cleaned the large nice house and mom cooked dinner most nights. I never heard her worry about money. I got an allowance but I think I always saved it cause I didn't really need it then- or mom would sorta direct how i spent it. I didn't save money for my first car at 16... i got money from my grandfather to buy it. I bought the car my mom pretty much picked cause I was too intimidated or lazy to research it on my own. When I got my first speeding ticket my mom hired a lawyer to take care of it for me. Basically this first part of my life I wasn't responsible for anything and didn't learn to trust my own judgement, understand the value of things or space, and felt some guilt associated with spending money. I also felt like mom had a never ending cash supply.
When I was 12 or so our house burnt almost to the ground. My mom took care of everything before my sister and I got back into town from the beach. I think this happening affected me more than I realized. After the fire we went through everything we'd ever owned and I worked for the fire restoration company sorting through our damaged goods. I remember deciding to throw massive quantities of things away. I really felt a deep sense of "things don't matter that much" from that event. Everything will eventually get thrown away" and the only important thing are people.... a good lesson in one way... but not if I now feel like I'd like to be surrounded by nice things. After the fire we went on big spending sprees to buy everything we needed again. Mom always did that with me and clothes- we'd buy lots at one time. If I couldn't pick between things, we'd usually get both. I still played the "talk me into it" dynamic with her. It still worked. I think my respect for the value of things continued to decline with these events.
My first job was at 15 at The Gap. I hated it. I felt like everyone there dumped on me and the tasks seemed pointless. I spent a lot of the money i made on deeply discounted clothes there. I ended up with a lot of clothes that weren't really my style. I saved some, I think.
After The Gap I had a long string of waitressing jobs- cash always in hand. I rarely deposited it to the bank. I did not pay my tuition in college or dorm... none of the essentials but I did pay for my pleasures... gas, food, clothes etc. My young adulthood my spending habits were focused on purchasing instant gratification items. I didn't understand taxes, didn't have a saving habit... just did that randomly, and didn't understand investing at all. Anything besides piggy-bank mentality seemed obscure and too adult to me- like my mom was a supreme being of knowledge and I'd never know money as well as her. Why wouldn't I think that? She had been responsible for everything important financially and the management of it so far anyway.
I didn't have a credit card in college. I was to scared of them- had heard horror stories. I don't clearly remember when I got my first discover card. I remember finally getting that one because it seemed "less real" than a Visa or Mastercard. For years I had only that one card and didn't have a habit of paying more than the minimum, on time, or paying it off. I think I got it right out of college to help buy house supplies... what a waste looking back. I was also dating poor" guys who didn't focus on education or investing.
Also at that time 911 occurred. I had a severe panic attack as a reaction. For months I couldn't get over how out-of-control reality suddenly seemed. It really just shook me to the core and beyond. The fact that such horrible things could happen... the way they kept saying "nothing will ever be the same again" over and over on the radio... the way comedians couldn't joke... horrible images were everywhere... our country seemed to dive head first into unilateral thinking (which scared me too) and our country plunged into a really dark time. I became super serious. I felt alienated from everyone around me. I was terrified by my anxiety and controlled by it for the first time (first very evident time). I began to distrust adults and feel like the world was one big out-of-control chaos. I realized that there ultimately was no where to hide from bad things. I guess I lost my naivete in a sudden violent way. I also looked at the violence in the world and in other humans and began worrying about whether that violence lied in me.
I thought about killing, suicide, and the freakiness of free will A LOT... and that made me even more freaked out. For a long long time I obsessively pricked myself with the idea that I could kill myself... no one could stop me. That terrified me. Then after reading a Maxim magazine article about one of Saddam's sons torturing people (it was very gruesomely detailed) i realized I had the power to kill other people... and that terrified me too.
These worries became repetitive thoughts that stoked my anxiety. The fact that I had the thoughts made me feel like there was something wrong with me... and the way my brain would repetitively bring them up in times of quiet or joy ensured that my mental and emotional life was not good. Looking back, I see that I was terrorizing myself. Perhaps I was terrorizing myself because 911 had made me feel so unsafe that I now distrusted having a sense of peace or control. By pricking myself with dark thoughts on a regular basis... I ensured that I wouldn't be terrified by surprise or dealt something I couldn't handle... because I was always scared and on alert already! I think this also tied in with my foundation of doubting my own decision making abilities and never having that much control over my own life... always deferring to my mom.
Emotionally I became obsessed with my roommate and eventual lover who was emotionally unavailable and verbally and emotionally abusive. His hard attitude, the fact that he was at a different point in his life, and his rejection of me felt authoritative and safe. Perhaps focusing on my emotions for him and the misery and drama he evoked from me was easier than coping with my feelings of anxiety that peaked when I was with Jeff before him. My anxiety began to subtly terrorize my life. I didn't like to go out to eat with people - it made me feel trapped. I also went through a long long period of getting anxiety from riding as a passenger in a car. Both are situations in which you are tangential with someone else and not fully in control. I was miserable. I stayed in Chapel Hill for a summer after I graduated and didn't find a job (was dealing with a lot emotionally certainly) and eventually ran out of money and moved home.
I moved in with my mom and took a long time finding a job. Finally I got another waitressing job making a miserable $30 a day. It didn't matter cause I was living under her roof and eating her food. I was focused purely on my ex-roomate crush and dealing with my anxiety. I started having fights with my mom and eventually she demanded I move out. I found a somewhat crappy apartment that i was initially excited about, and at that point we were on speaking terms again and she wanted to see it. She thought the place was crappy and dangerous and refused for me to move in there. She found a "nicer" place through one of her friends that cost way more and was 2 houses down from her. I let my mom talk me into moving into an apartment that was more expensive than I wanted to pay (and with no roomates) and kept waiting tables... I had low self-esteem in that I didn't trust my own decision making, esp. when it came to money and work. Why should I at that point? I'd never really had to be responsible for either in a real-world sense. I was not saving any real money at all- I was just living 3 months ahead. Then my dad died.
When my dad died I gained a large inheritance.
