Combining the Cereals in One Box...
Even if one is stale (and the Depression-Era mentality I was gifted with.)
I’ve written a whole book about buying a house and it’s a series of essays about the trials and tribulations of making the push to move into this house, and all the shenanigans around living there, home improvements, falling palm fronds, stray cats and a whole host of other incidents. When I went out to agents about the book, I was told by a handful that a book about buying a house was not enough, and that I should expand the book to be more about financial independence for women. I understood that point of view, because there is a lead up to how I financially behaved to actually afford a down payment on a house by myself, and so I started to explore writing in that narrative. I wanted to be dutiful to the call of the marketplace.
I spent several hours one morning writing new chapters that would tackle more of the whole picture. In other words, stripping away the essence of my quirky funny essayist writing to fit into a mold of self help. I thought I was peppering in enough comedy or self deprecation to make it more of an essay narrative, but when I went to read what I wrote the next day, I was horrified. It was fucking boring.
I was depressed and borderline angry which was further fueled by my 17 year old, who when I told her I was making this u-turn to fit a more commercial model, acted like I had just defrocked my entire sense of creative being. “Mom, don’t get pigeon-holed into self help if you want to write essays.” The stench of her truth rang in the air. Now don’t get me wrong. I love self-help. I coach a lot of fantastic writers through very important self-help books. My first book is self-help and is intended to help and heal sexual abuse survivors. But the reason the house book is created in a form of essays is I am not one hundred percent sure, I, a woman who just started to make six figures for the first time in her life at 48 years old, should be writing a book about financial independence.
I tried to even submit to a new agent with the new idea of the financial independence self help book for single women, but when it came time to attach a sample chapter, I couldn’t get myself to do it. Instead I attached an essay. It was me as a writer saying, “Please see me for who I am, not who you want me to be.”
Yet, there is always grey matter that will reveal itself when you are in a tumult with your muse. I was venting to a friend about my tenant wanting me to have the exterminator come back to the house. We thought we had gotten rid of the water bugs but a few had come back. I had lived there with the occasional water bug so I wasn’t sure what the big deal was. The tenant was not accepting my position. Apparently a water bug landing on her head in the shower was traumatic enough for her to take action, where for me, when it happened in a place I rented, I just shook it off. Truth bomb: my tenant has more value for her comfort and expects money to be spent to make it better than I would have done for myself. Ouch. To think she may be in my life for me to see this felt like a blow (and a costly one… exterminators are not cheap.)
This opened the can of worms for me seeing all the ways I slight myself comforts and resist making my environment nicer, or doing proper maintenance and upkeep on the implements that make me most effective in my life. For example, three months into buying a new condo and I still have mismatched paper blinds in the living room which makes me not want to sit in there because it feels unpleasant. So I have been spending more time in my bedroom. I also have a brown soft blanket that my kids call Mr. Fuzzy because its been in the family 20 years, and while their nostalgia is cute, it’s just another indication that I have not bought a nice new blanket in a while. In fact, three of us, now much bigger, struggle to share Mr. Fuzzy but if I even suggest I replace Mr. Fuzzy, they clutch it wild eyed like I just suggested we eat the cat.
Here is another situation in my work life where I was a cheap ass to myself. A year ago, I had worn down all the main letters on my lap top keys from typing so much and a client suggested on line I buy new keys. I did but I screwed up the installation and suddenly the E, A and D keys would stick, and eventually the E key just never stayed on so I wrote a whole book (on money and buying a house) on a keyboard that was so sticky and slow I had to practically back space every other sentence. When I finally was fed up, after painfully writing 91000 words of the book (on abundance), I bought an external keyboard and stand which cost me all of $45. It took me one year of suffering to spend $45.
A girlfriend just told me she went a whole year without buying a $35 pair of Bluetooth headphones and instead suffered trying to do yoga on the kind that have wires… what?
Why do we suffer before getting the tools we need to make our lives easier and better? Scarcity mindset.
I don't know how the hell I can write a book about buying two homes and being financially independent if I don’t talk about how fundamentally broken I am about financially taking care of myself on a regular basis. I go to Starbucks and get a $3.25 black tea and ask for it with ice on the side, and no water, so I can get the maximum tea, versus the version with ice. The version where they make it all nice together tastes much better, but I would rather have the one with more volume for my buck. AND instead of vacuuming my car, I will pick the leaves out of the cracks around the rubber mats which I will periodically bang against the street. I have so many of these examples it is ridiculous, and I try to shield my daughters from it by not being a lame ass about the cost of popcorn at the movies (still painful to pay), and always try and smile when I pay for the endless stream of stuff like the yearbook/ prom ticket/new bikini/contact lenses/Chipotle Burritos. But I am really grinding my teeth about some stuff that should be second nature to buy.
And here is why… they have a whole 12 step program called DA on this. I will spend the big money to buy the condo, but then I will be sure that I won’t have more abundance so I will penny pinch and be a spend thrift in other areas of my life (mainly depriving me) until I am more convinced that money will come in. I have a mindset that there is a cap on the money I will bring in so therefore the universe falls in line and caps me. If I save the rest of the Sarah wrap from a box where the cutter broke, and cut it with scissors, that is like when my grandmother would take the sugars and ketchups from the restaurant (which was technically stealing but looked at as collecting?). The Universe sees this and gives me more evidence of the same. Scarcity. I saw the penny pinching and hysterical scarcity growing up and it is all around me, in me and through me, but I am also trying very hard to just trust to buy what makes me tick so I can attract other people who see I am in my abundant power.
I also have owned the same progressive glasses for four years with two big scratches across the frame because I was spending money on my daughters glasses and didn’t believe there was money for me. Today I just ordered the (5) pairs of glasses that Warby Parker would ship to you for free to try and I also ordered someone to come give me an estimate for those plantation shades. I need to break the cycle even if it makes me feel like I will have to subsist on free samples from Sephora and Sees Candies. The beauty of this epiphany is this is what I have to write about in the financial abundance book. Not just my cleverness of getting a Universal Whole Life Insurance plan, but the absurdity of our financial mindsets and belief systems. Sure, I have made something financially of myself in the last five years but I also have combined cereals in boxes even when the remaining cereal in the one box was stale. Suffer through it! Don’t waste.
When was the last time you looked at the little indiscretions of your financial situation or spending? Would you be willing to laugh with me in a book like this or does it just sound like I am over airing my dirty laundry? But aren't those the best books?
Being frugal is a positive trait, especially when uncertain of one's income stream or saving for a anticipated expense. Being parsimonious, especially for oneself is not an attractive trait, especially when self-deprivation is the core issue that ultimately negates emotional release. 😢 There will always be unexpected expenses in life, even when living as a minimalist. Depriving oneself of basic comforts or needs reflects on self-esteem. Are we not worthy of something "nice" in life because we have not earned it or deserved it despite sacrifices made over time? 🤔 We can be our worst judge and jury when we are in denial mode, but why go there? I like to tell "clients" that taking that route is a one-way trip without a ticket back because recovery is so much longer and harder as a mindset. Be good to yourself instead and know your existence is worthwhile. You don't need to buy a Ferarri to feel good about who you are, but taking proper care of yourself and your surroundings is a worthwhile investment. 👍