A difficult year
In an effort to identify behaviour patterns, I began sorting through old papers the other night, setting aside all my credit card statements. Sometime I must have thrown some out. They only go back to 2001, when my debt was already considerable but less than half what it is now.
I took a cursory look through them. I have rarely spent money extravagantly. Most of the debt has come from spending more money than I could afford on groceries, gas, family activities, craft supplies, printer cartridges and the occasional book or CD. I expected to find a slow but steady accumulation.
For the most part that was true, except for 2008.
It was a tough year. In January and February I had two floods in my apartment, destroying mostly junk but also some furniture and a number of books. I had to stay with Sylvie and Sarah for a few days.
A couple weeks after the second flood, Mom died after a long struggle with breast cancer, although we had expected her to live until the spring.
The previous year, 2007, had been my first period of steady employment in more than a decade, but income tax was not deducted and I had failed to set aside anything for it. In April I had to pay about $2,400. Most of it went on Visa.
After Easter, work slowed to a trickle. I took it as an opportunity to rest and do things I wanted (not expensive things, mind you). I was not terribly grieved over Mom's death (at least, not consciously); mostly just relieved that she didn't suffer a long decline due to cancer. Still, I wanted lots of me time. I expected organ building work to pick up again soon, but other than a few short jobs, it would remain slow until September of the following year (2009). I did some renovation work with my lesbian friends. Through the summer, fall and winter, I probably had eight or ten more weeks of work.
In the fall my always-healthy father started experiencing angina and we learned he would have to go for bypass surgery.
About that time my credit card hit the maximum that had always seemed an impossibility, thousands of dollars away. Altogether my debt increased by about $6,000 that year. It was not an unreasonable amount to spend on basic living expenses, but I was not planning or thinking. Despite the feeling that I was "doing well" with everything that came my way, I was ignoring a serious problem and neglecting a significant part of my wellbeing.
After Visa maxed out, anxiety and depression hit. That winter and for most of 2009, I was overwhelmed. As is usual with mental health, I didn't have enough perspective to understand why I was suffering. I was content in 2008, now why this? I was aware of the debt problem, but didn't understand what it was doing to me. I scraped by, always managing to pay the bills on time, but always rolling over whatever balance was left just to pay bare necessities, never making any progress, feeling hopeless. I was too ashamed to tell to anyone except for mentioning it in vague terms to Danny and one or two other close friends. Even when I started to see a therapist, it took several sessions before I mentioned the debt problem.
Finally, of course, I did talk about it. I went to a debt counselor. I talked to Dad. I am finally doing something about it. As with many things, you have to hit the wall before you wise up. Or not.
The other night, when I saw how much my debt had increased in 2008, I was taken completely by surprise. But pieces of the puzzle fell into place. It all made sense.
Two important lessons:
- I used careless spending to help myself through difficult time, and it finally came to a head the year Mom died. I was aware of this behaviour in general terms, but it has never been illustrated to me so starkly. I must not deal with grief that way again. When I have money to spend (whether or not it is real money) I am content. And when I have money to treat others, I am secure in the idea that we can have a good time together. I need to build peace of mind and social confidence on a better foundation.
- When I don't talk about things, I don't remember them. Maybe that's why my memory is so poor. [Edit: I might remember general feelings such as hopelessness without being able to identify their source. I suppose this is one way depression arises, because it is so often accompanied by isolation, i.e. not talking to people.]