As I process my newly-confessed admission that I am addicted to online shopping, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how to solve this problem. I’ve been aware of my overspending and the stress that it caused, but I’ve been living in uncomfortable comfort for so long that the chaos began to feel like safety.
My overspending stems from attempting to self-soothe, particularly during difficult times and transitions in my life. Online shopping proves to be a good distraction from the challenges of being an adult and raising children, but it causes more problems than it solves. While motherhood exacerbated my spending tendencies, I’ve always been a spender.
The only way that this spending has been able to carry on this long, though, is because of my continued access to debt.
Without there always being more money, I’ll be limited, restricted, and forced to spend within my means—which is what I’ve been avoiding all this time.
Living without debt means that I will be forced to reconcile with the finiteness of our money. I’ll have to plan, deny, and slow down. I’ll have to be aware, say no, and feel limited. I’ll have to think twice, save, and wait. I’ll have to use it up, wear it out, make it do, or go without.
Often when I ask my children to do something that is good for them, they say no. “Brush your teeth.” “Make sure you floss.” “It’s time for bed.” “Let’s go for a walk.” “Go say hello.”
“No!”
Despite the fact that I know these things will benefit them, they simply don’t want to. Whether they are busy doing something else, or can’t see the wisdom behind the request, or just don’t feel like it, one day they will see the benefit.
Like a child, I have said no to waiting. I’ve said no to planning. I’ve said no to saving. I’ve said no to thinking about my financial future. I’ve said no to feeling the pinch, experiencing the limit, and holding the words “no” and “not yet” in my body.
Like a toddler, I’ve only seen what’s right in front of me and said, “It’s mine.”
During the years of early adulthood, I was surrounded by friends who made wise, forward-thinking financial decisions. They used the cash envelope method. They always kept a minimum of $1000.00 in their checking account. They scrimped and saved. They denied things like going out for dinner and going to the movies. They said things like, “We can’t afford that right now,” and bought $3000.00 vehicles. They lived in less-than-perfect apartments to save money on rent. They only bought things second hand. They shopped at discount grocers. They said, “No.”
I saw them living a life of restriction and I wanted nothing to do with it. Plan for retirement in my early twenties? Are you kidding me? Save for a house? Bah, we’ll just keep renting. Stash money away for an emergency fund? We’ll just use our line of credit. Save up for a holiday? We’ll just use the credit card. Plan a frugal wedding? We’ll just borrow the money. Use hand-me-down furniture? We’ll head to IKEA.
Debt was my escape hatch, my get-out-of-jail free card, my excuse. I didn’t implement productive financial habits not just because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t have to.
Debt was my saviour; and I worshipped it.
In order to stop using debt, I have to stop using debt. It sounds so ludicrously simple, but it’s the truth. In order for me to stop using credit cards and lines of credit, I have to stop using credit cards and lines of credit.
The problem is, I’ve tried this before. I’ve attempted to curb my debt spending. I’ve put my credit card away. I’ve made promises to myself. I’ve budgeted. I’ve tracked my spending. I’ve stopped spending temporarily. I’ve tried before and failed.
But this time, I’ve said it all out loud. I’ve admitted it to my husband. I’ve reached a breaking point. I’m mad at my debt; I want to be free. So, I decided that each day, I will attempt to go 24 hours without using debt. As I get ready for the day, I have started saying to myself, “I will not use debt today.”
I have cut off my access to our shared credit cards and line of credits, and I have cancelled my personal credit card. I will still carry my credit card in my wallet for now, but only for true my-debit-card-doesn’t-work emergencies until I can stash away some more cash.
As Erin Skye Kelly says, it is possible to live without debt. As someone who has lived their entire adult life using debt, I’m skeptical. Can I truly live without using debt? Will there be enough? Will I be able to handle it? Will I be able to cope?
It’s these questions that I’ve been too afraid to ask, because I’m not sure who I am without debt.