When I was a kid, having money meant going out and buying things. And buying big fancy things for people was my family's way of showing "love" or at least trying to buy our love for them. They used toys in the place of talking, shopping in the place of sorrys, and movie tickets in the place of meaningful conversations. So, in my childhood, I had lots of toys and books and clothes, but not a whole lot of emotional closeness to anyone in my family. I still don't have any closeness to them.
The scarring of that retail-therapy, as my family calls it, is a lot deeper than just my connection to a few people that I'm genetically related to. It's branched out into all of my relationships with everyone I know.
I can't handle gifts from people. I'll take them, and I'll be happy, because that's what people want from me, but I can't actually be excited for a present, or to consider the "thought that counts". In my mind, it's a ploy. It's an attempt to garner favor with me, and not to actually make me feel loved.
I have been working on that issue for a long time, because it really isn't fair to my friends and family, but it is interesting to finally realize where that disdain came from. It also helps me realize why it's so hard to cure. It's written into my personality, into my life script, and that's going to be really hard to scrub out.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Financially Done For
This week, I learned that my Financial Aid for this semester will likely not be available funds until my semester is essentially over. This isn't my fault; it's the fault of my financial aid office being terrible and inefficient and frankly, rude. But, there's nothing I can do to speed up the process, so I may as well deal with it. However, this has some major impacts on my life.
At this point, because of the financial aid issues, I've been living off my credit card. It's got about $100 dollars left, which likely won't be able to get me through two months. Food can be expensive sometimes, plus I do need to have fun, and that usually is defined as a movie out or going to a restaurant with my roommates. There's also times that I'm on campus and starving, and I don't have the time or energy to trek home for a snack. Vacations also cost a fair amount, because a trip on the Ride Board to J's house usually costs $20-$40 round trip (most worthwhile money ever spent). On top of it, there's my phone bill and my Spotify bill, medication, and monthly banking fees. That really adds up.
Luckily, my mom says she is financially in a position to help me, and while I really hate taking handouts, or pulling people down monetarily, I may have to take her help. I'd probably only ask for enough money to pay off my credit card, which really isn't that much. I can pay her back fairly easily. But I can't turn to her to answer all of my problems.
I guess, it's time I truly learned how to be financially conservative. I mean, I've lived in poverty for my entire life, but it's harder when you're the one wielding the credit card to be so frugal. I need to learn to focus on the fact that I have bills and a stomach that isn't getting fed if I don't do it, and a future to prepare for. So here's to a new phase: frugal living out of necessity and not personal desire.
At this point, because of the financial aid issues, I've been living off my credit card. It's got about $100 dollars left, which likely won't be able to get me through two months. Food can be expensive sometimes, plus I do need to have fun, and that usually is defined as a movie out or going to a restaurant with my roommates. There's also times that I'm on campus and starving, and I don't have the time or energy to trek home for a snack. Vacations also cost a fair amount, because a trip on the Ride Board to J's house usually costs $20-$40 round trip (most worthwhile money ever spent). On top of it, there's my phone bill and my Spotify bill, medication, and monthly banking fees. That really adds up.
Luckily, my mom says she is financially in a position to help me, and while I really hate taking handouts, or pulling people down monetarily, I may have to take her help. I'd probably only ask for enough money to pay off my credit card, which really isn't that much. I can pay her back fairly easily. But I can't turn to her to answer all of my problems.
I guess, it's time I truly learned how to be financially conservative. I mean, I've lived in poverty for my entire life, but it's harder when you're the one wielding the credit card to be so frugal. I need to learn to focus on the fact that I have bills and a stomach that isn't getting fed if I don't do it, and a future to prepare for. So here's to a new phase: frugal living out of necessity and not personal desire.
Thursday, October 3, 2013
"It's NOT your fault."
Today, in my Adjustment course (Effective Living), we were talking about autonomy. Autonomy is a critical stage of psycho-social development, and there's a lot that falls under that umbrella. But, in particular, we were discussing the facet of accepting responsibility for our actions, and not laying the blame with someone else. This also applies the other way: not blaming ourselves for something we couldn't have affected.
The presenter asked everyone in the class to close their eyes, and raise their hand if they felt like they were to blame for a tragic experience--like a death in the family or a car accident or a divorce. Reluctantly, and sorrowfully, I raised my hand.
My parents have been legally married for nearly 20 years, and separated for 11 of those years. They do not currently have an official divorce, because of costs and the added component of children to consider. They were married because of me, not because they wanted to be a family. Originally, I was to be put up for adoption. But, when mom became attached to me, the plan changed, and they were married almost exactly three months after I was born.
It didn't take long for me to be aware of my parent's failing marriage. I'd hear my mother crying in their room, or see my dad asleep on the couch rather than in their room. It wasn't much of a surprise when my mom packed my sister and I up in the middle of my fourth grade school year and moved away from my father.
No matter how much evidence I see to refute it, it's hard for me to believe that, twenty years down the road, it's not my fault that my parents failed. It's hard to realize that I really didn't have a part in my mother moving away, and straining contact with my father. I wasn't to blame.
But it's hard to tell that to a girl who pretty much caused her parents to get married, even if I was too busy crying and pooping to notice what was happening at the time.
And that's the thing. I didn't know what was happening. I didn't crawl up to my mother one day and say "hey you and my dad should get married, even though we all know you're bad together." Heck, I couldn't even talk. Or crawl. Even once I could do those things, I never purposefully tried to sabotage their relationship. I never encouraged mom to move away, or for dad to be depressed and give up. They made those decisions themselves, and they were stupid decisions. It was stupid of them to have me, to keep me, to get married and raise me. It was stupid of them to ever try, when they knew from the start that they weren't willing to try.
I'm here now though, and I have two parents that hate each other, and two sets of extended family that hate each other--and sometimes me. None of that is my fault. I am understanding that.
The presenter asked everyone in the class to close their eyes, and raise their hand if they felt like they were to blame for a tragic experience--like a death in the family or a car accident or a divorce. Reluctantly, and sorrowfully, I raised my hand.
My parents have been legally married for nearly 20 years, and separated for 11 of those years. They do not currently have an official divorce, because of costs and the added component of children to consider. They were married because of me, not because they wanted to be a family. Originally, I was to be put up for adoption. But, when mom became attached to me, the plan changed, and they were married almost exactly three months after I was born.
It didn't take long for me to be aware of my parent's failing marriage. I'd hear my mother crying in their room, or see my dad asleep on the couch rather than in their room. It wasn't much of a surprise when my mom packed my sister and I up in the middle of my fourth grade school year and moved away from my father.
No matter how much evidence I see to refute it, it's hard for me to believe that, twenty years down the road, it's not my fault that my parents failed. It's hard to realize that I really didn't have a part in my mother moving away, and straining contact with my father. I wasn't to blame.
But it's hard to tell that to a girl who pretty much caused her parents to get married, even if I was too busy crying and pooping to notice what was happening at the time.
And that's the thing. I didn't know what was happening. I didn't crawl up to my mother one day and say "hey you and my dad should get married, even though we all know you're bad together." Heck, I couldn't even talk. Or crawl. Even once I could do those things, I never purposefully tried to sabotage their relationship. I never encouraged mom to move away, or for dad to be depressed and give up. They made those decisions themselves, and they were stupid decisions. It was stupid of them to have me, to keep me, to get married and raise me. It was stupid of them to ever try, when they knew from the start that they weren't willing to try.
I'm here now though, and I have two parents that hate each other, and two sets of extended family that hate each other--and sometimes me. None of that is my fault. I am understanding that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)