Or, “in which I recount my adult life up to this point for the world to see.”
Okay, truth be told, it’s not so stunning at all. I’ve seen this coming for a while, and have tried to do my best to fix problems as they come up. It really hasn’t worked, and a phone call earlier pretty much smacked me in the face with the reality.
Warning: this will indeed be mundane and pointless for anyone who reads on. I will apologize in advance for subjecting you, the reader, to the trials and tribulations of my woes. Putting it down on paper (or rather, on the interwebs) makes it that much more “real” to me, and so here I am. I’ll try not to ramble. 
A few years back, as a typical college kid, I fell prey to my own lack of real-world knowledge and overexertion of my confidence to handle all things worldly. At the tender age of 18, I took some steps to make sure I would be able to enter the “real world” with as much of an advantage as I could. I enrolled in a prestigious college and was accepted to my life-long dream major. Life was good, and though I wasn’t working, I lived comfortably as subsidized by my parents. I thought I would step up my “becoming an adult” by taking on a few credit card offers – because we’re all taught that credit is everything, right?
Anyway, to make a long story short, the next 2 years passed without much trouble. Though I was doing well in my classes, I came to realize that the educational track I was on was no longer my life’s ambition. I was applauded by many for realizing this early on in life, though in retrospect, I probably should have sucked it up and just continued to ensure I had something. I applied for a change of majors to be effective at the next term.
Meanwhile, I had racked up quite the credit card bill. By late 19, I had about $2000 in credit card debt (not to mention the ever-growing woe of student loans that wouldn’t matter for the time being). I made the huge mistake of paying for life with plastic, and using the cash my parents gave me each month to pay the bills. I don’t think I realized how horrible this was at the time because I was too caught up in “being an adult.” I had credit cards! I had bills! I was truly a grown up.
To make a long story short, this worked out for a while. At the end of my term, I got some shocking news from home – the man my mother had been seeing had been abusing her. My mother, strong-armed in some respects as she is, chose not to pursue legal action for a variety of reasons. This chapter of her life culminated in a heated dispute one evening, which involved me racing downstairs with a staple gun as a weapon. Suffice it to say, I can be rather imposing, and we have yet to hear from this man again. Several things came to me over the course of those few months at home – I realized how unhappy I actually was at the university I attended, I realized how unlikely I was to succeed in a new major there, and I felt quite strongly that it was my duty as the only man in my mother’s life to protect her. With that, I made the decision to move back home.
Meanwhile, still, I had been accruing debt at an almost exponential rate. As much of an adult as I thought myself to be, I pushed some bills aside in the interest of treating my latest boyfriend, buying nice clothes, and a new car. I enrolled at a university where I live now, which turned out to be a blessing. I was able to start my newly chosen major with no fuss. I reunited with several people I had lost contact with since high school, and formed an entirely new circle of friends. In a biography about my life, almost anyone will attest that this was the period in my life that I did a social 180. Instead of being introverted and wary, I became outgoing and friendly. I was happier than I had ever been.
Of course, for me, that meant spending money. I had a job while I went to school, but it wasn’t enough to cover my expenses. Two years at home and in school, and I realized yet again that I was unhappy with my chosen educational track. At that point, I started to finally realize the importance of financial responsibility. At 21, including student loans, my car, and everything under the sun, I had a net worth of -$65,000.00.
I made the “oh so great” decision to postpone finishing my college education until I could figure out what I really wanted out of life, and decided I’d get a full time job to pay down some debt in the mean time. My social life was flourishing; during high school, I was diagnosed with a social anxiety disorder. By now, though, I felt on top of the world and as though I had finally overcome it. No longer did I become ill by leaving my house. No more panic attacks, no more general feeling of depression.
As it turns out, this decision to postpone college turned out to be a horrible one. Leaving school meant that student loans would now become due. I had increased my spending already to exceed my income, and I was in trouble. With the help and advice from my parents, I got much of it under control and paid down a bit of debt. A year later, my total debt had dropped to about $30,000. Life was good.
Too good, it turned out, because I let my overzealous spending habit kick in once again. Before I knew it, I had blown quite a bit of money – a new laptop here, some more clothes there, eating out every night of the week… it was okay, though. By that point, I had a terrific job making more money than I literally knew what to do with. Bills were being paid before they were due, I had a savings account, friends, health – you name it. I developed the attitude of letting life just happen. I grew quite comfortable with my lifestyle, and I received constant praise for getting my shit together. Both of my parents remarried, and I had nothing but a smile on my face.
As it happened, that great job didn’t go very far. I ended up quitting about six months later because I was truly unhappy with work. I dreaded each day I went in, and I counted minutes until I left. Making the choice to put my happiness over my financial situation, I put in my two weeks notice and left. I aged out of dependant military insurance, and for the first time in my life, prayed like hell that I didn’t get sick.
Leaving that job was depressing, to be honest, but I justified it to myself. That became even easier when less than a month later, the company reorganized, and all but dissolved the department I worked in. I don’t know why I basically sat on my ass for six months after that, but I did. Once again, I reverted to the lavish life and bought everything on credit. I spent about six months living on credit, and doing the idle job search here and there.
In the first week of last year, I found the company I work for now, through sheer luck. I got hired on, and now, I love my job. I don’t mind odd schedules or the commute; I wake up happy to go into work. I get along great with my co-workers, and I love what I do. Just one problem with it. I don’t make enough money. This was hard to see at first. When I accepted the job, I sat down and thought I was being quite reasonable by charting out income vs. expenses. Over the course of 14 months, this slow gap in income added up.
Flash forward to today. I get a message on my voicemail that my car is up for repossession tomorrow. How did this happen? I ask. Oh, right-- those other bills. The ones that are even further behind. That dental surgery I had to have two weeks go (no, really, I did. Before my military insurance ran out, I managed to get half a root canal done. The last remaining bit of that nerve in my tooth just now caught up to me.) Oh yeah – that OTHER dental surgery I needed last month to get my wisdom teeth out. Oh, and a plethora of other medical bills I had accumulated before I had insurance. Not to mention that until recently, I (for whatever screwed up reason) felt confident with my income enough to justify the occasional luxury purchase. Well, hello there, Quicken–looks like those luxury purchases came a little too often.
So, here I sit, in the same boat I was years ago. I have no college degree. I have more debt than I ever thought imaginable. I have little recourse in paying it down significantly, because my interest rates are higher than my IQ, and my credit is so screwed up now that no one will consider a consolidation loan. My expenses are more than my earnings. I’ve sought the advice from consumer debt management companies before, to little help. I have tried to work out ways to get myself out of this hole directly with lenders. Contrary to what they say, a lot of them really aren’t interested in anything other than getting their money – now. I don’t blame them, though, not at all. It’s a business who invested a risk in me, and I screwed it up. And to be honest, I really do get a feeling of disgust in my financial responsibility when I have to tell them “I’m sorry if that amount isn’t sufficient – it’s all I’ve got.” It is.
The moral of the story? I don’t know; life is ongoing. One thing I’ve learned is that money can’t buy happiness–but it can sure come damn close. If we ignore the financial aspect of my life, I could not be happier. I am in a terrific long-term relationship. I have friends who may not have much, but who are morally sound and would step in front of a bullet for me. I have the most amazing family anyone could ask for; I have always been blessed in that respect. My mother, worry-wart that she is, is one of the sweetest people in the world who would do anything for me. I used to take advantage of that when I was younger; now, I just thank whatever higher power there is that I have another day with her in my life.
My dad? I’m afraid of. Not because of anything he’s ever done – quite the contrary. My dad has always been the one to show up and bail me out of tight spots. When it was 2:30 in the morning and I was piss drunk an hour away, dad was the one who came to get me. When I had to drive home from work mid-hurricane and had a blowout, dad was the one who brought me a tire. When I had no money to make that last car payment, dad was the one who slipped me a few hundreds at Christmas. When I started down the path of past due student loans, my father did as much as he could to help. Make no mistake, my father’s only weakness is his compassion. No, the reason I’m afraid of my father is because I don’t think I can look him in the eye without feeling like a failure as a son. I have nothing to show for all the money, blessings, favors, advice, and help. Although not to the extent I have screwed my own, I have brought down my dad’s credit tremendously. Since I’ve moved home, I haven’t made the time to see my father beyond family holidays and those times when I needed money. In truth, I owe my father more than I could ever repay him, and deep down, I’m afraid that he thinks of me as a disappointment.
A friend asked me if I was depressed. No, I’m not depressed. I consider myself a huge financial failure up until this point in my life, but hey, money isn’t everything. I do the best that I can, and I try to make up for my shortcomings by paying it forward. I help out anyone that may need it, and some might classify that under “bad move.” Maybe, but that’s life. To be honest, I’m actually quite happy, overall. The only upsetting part of my days are when the bill collectors call. To them, I’m a deadbeat. I suppose I am, in a way. But, I dug myself into this financial hole, and I’ll crawl out somehow, for however long it takes.
So, that call earlier. I have 24 hours to come up with the past due amount on my car before the repo man comes. Which will make it very difficult to get to work. Does it bother me? Oh yeah. Can I come up with the money? Not a chance. My credit is so pathetic that Prosper has turned me away for a consolidation loan. My friends and family, amazing as they are, don’t have the means to help out – nor would I even ask them to.
This “stunning discovery,” I suppose, is that life goes on. No matter what, I have the most important things – friends, family, health, pretty good intelligence. I may be broke and (soon to be) car-less (and, therefore, perhaps even jobless), but I know that I’m doing what I can to fix the mess I made. I have no more credit cards; the ones that the bank didn’t close were cut up a while ago. I’ve learned to love anything that comes free. Am I as well off as I want to be? Not by a long shot, but I make do.
So, by now, you’ll realize that there’s not much for you, the reader, to gain from this. I’m not even sure if I should post this. I know I’ll probably get at least a few flames, but typing is therapeutic. It’s my way of venting, without so much venting-- I’ll give myself a truly proper Pitting later.
