I have this completely irrational and unfounded fear that I am, at all times and no matter my financial situation, completely flat out broke.
I’m better than I was. In university, it was really out of hand.
I would arrive at school, totally exhausted. I really wanted a coffee. I would go through my wallet and look at my measly amounts of change, and then try to decide if I could really afford to pay $1.40 for a large.
Okay, so I HAD $1.40. Technically. But, if I got a coffee today, then I’d want one tomorrow. And it only takes just over like, a dozen coffees, and suddenly I’ve wasted a $20 bill. And I probably won’t even get that high, cuz inevitably some days I will also buy a muffin. And what of the caffeine crash in the afternoon I would surely get? Well, then I’d have to buy another coffee. Oh God, I’ll go through $20 in a week! That’s $80 a month! And THAT’S only if I spend my money solely on coffee!! But I won’t, I know I won’t! If I have the cash in my pocket, I’ll buy lunch and I’ll buy books and I’ll buy who knows what!! Then I’ll need more money. Up to $100 a month.
And $100 a month over the course of the school year was like…….$800!! Shit! That’s like, 6 months of groceries! Or two months of rent!! Oh god, then I’ll have to take money from somewhere else to get my bus pass. Or not eat. Then I won’t be able to make my Visa payment, and creditors will come after me, and when I graduate I’ll have huge debts and what if the furnace explodes and AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
No coffee for Talea.
That’s how it was. For years and years and years. A coffee ballooned it’s way to me being homeless, unemployed and so in debt that I shouldn’t even bother trying to dig my way out. So I lived on nothing essentially, to appease my broken brain.
I attribute this particular irrational fear to my father, who has been a banker longer than I have been alive. The man hates his job. But he does it with incredible efficiency and is unrelenting. I remember my parents ripping apart the house to find out where the receipts were for my mom’s chequebook. If it was off by 12 freaking cents, then that 12 cents had to be somewhere!! And he would stop at nothing to figure out where the money was leaking from.
Today, though I’ve seriously improved, I still suck when it comes to money paranoia. Although I always have enough in my account for 3 months rent, I will not let myself spend $50 to buy a pair of new pants for work. I won’t let myself get a damned coffee. I’m always terrified the shit is going to hit the fan, and I’m going to curse myself for spending frivolously when I need to pay for Zoey’s vet bill.
I really need to try and learn that money is just money, it’s nothing in and of itself. Anyone have any brilliant comment that will cement that into my mind? My dad always yells at me to go buy myself more stuff, to go out more blah blah blah, but then he’ll also call me when my Visa payment is late or when my account is low, cuz he spies on my account, since I bank at the bank that he works at. Talk about sucking.
Here’s some other irrational fears I have! Fun!
– The dark. Hate it.
– That I will have a severe muscle spasm while waiting on the platform for the subway, and fall onto the tracks moments before the train’s arrival, only to be squashed in front of hundreds.
– The same thing as above, but this time on a street corner with a big car.
– Flying. I hate it.
– Moldy bread. I had two bad reactions to penicillin when I was wee. Now, I inspect every iota of every piece of bread that I eat. I’m terrified of eating a moldy piece of bread.
– I honestly truly believe that there is a being/god/spirit that can hear every word in my head. I censor my own thoughts to prevent myself from greeting Satan one day.
– I will not look into a mirror when it is dark. A friend in grade 6 told me if I did, then a bloody Virgin Mary would appear. I dont need to see that, thank you very much.
– That I will die if I touch a piece of raw meat. I will not touch raw chicken, raw beef or raw pork. Because I will die if I do, for I will surely contract salmonella or E.Coli or Mad Cow or whatever the hell you get from pigs. I had to call the boyfriend from his friends place upstaris in our apartment building the other night to take the chicken out of the package and put it in the pan, because I couldn’t do it.
– I will try almost any food anybody offers me (except falafels……I’m sorry, I just can’t eat something called falafel), but every time I do, I’m convinced I am going to have an allergy to it if it’s a new food, my throat will swell up and that will be all that there is for Talea.
Anyways, I have to go now. I also have an irrational fear that my head office spies on my computer at all hours now that it’s networked, so I can only blog on this computer, which is unnetworked, which also happens to not be mine. It is Emerald’s, and she is back from lunch now.
I am off to eat my own lunch. Which obviously does not include bread, or any new foods. While I eat, I will contemplate my financial situation and try to convince myself I should really go out tonight and get new work pants. I only have one pair. People are starting to notice. Ha.