Money may not be able to buy happiness, but happiness can sometimes follow when you change the way you get on with money, and re-examine the role it plays in your everyday life
I grew up hating money. Or I should say the lack of money in our house. My mom died when I was 9, and up until this point money was not an issue as far as I knew. I had all the dolls and toys I wanted. And like most mothers, my mom knew how to make the most of her household budget. When I look back, I see one indulged little girl, up until a road accident took my mom’s life.
It was only when I was in my twenties and bemoaning my problematic legacy with money that I learnt my mom held down two jobs. She had her day job, and on alternate nights she would clean the Cape Town Civic Centre or The Cape Sun hotel in Strand street. She took on the night jobs only when my dad, who was a tradesman and therefore a migrant worker, didn’t send enough money home.
I can now clearly see the periods of bounty when we fetched dad’s money from the post office, and periods of us spending lots of time at granny’s house or getting food parcels from granny and my aunts. Back then, it was just a cool holiday with my cousins at granny’s house. I had no idea that there was nothing at home. The grown-ups made it look like so much fun.
After my mother’s death my dad was forced to stay in Cape Town and make do with whatever jobs he could find. This is when I realised that we did not have lots of money, as I naively thought. This part of my childhood is also why I cannot do camping.
My childhood after mom died was one long camping trip from hell. Sometimes you have running water, sometimes you have electricity, sometimes you have loo paper, sometimes you have soap, sometimes you have food, but very seldom do you have all of this at the same time.
My father was so devastated and overwhelmed, that he joined one of the many prosperity gospel outfits that seems to thrive in poor areas. Whatever money he earned, first had to pass through this predatory outfit, and whatever was left, we had to use on our extended “camping trip”.
To say I hated money is an understatement. When I started my first job, I blew my first salary on the things I thought I needed to show the world that I’m not a poor person. I opened every store card and a credit card.
I rented a flat in town and furnished it with my new found “wealth”. Needless to say, I could not afford the repayments and my house of cards came tumbling down two years later.
Clawing my way back from a bad credit score was painful. I hated money so I spent it as quickly as I earned it. I hated that it had so much power over me. I hated what the lack of it did to my childhood. I hated that I was working but still poor. I was in a dangerous cycle and thank goodness debtor’s jail no longer existed as I was well on my way.
It was only when I met my husband that I realised how toxic my attitude towards money was. This guy who was my exact opposite money personality. To this day he’s known as the voice of reason and the minister of finance in our relationship.
Until I met him, no-one in my circle actually had money left in their account after all the reckless debit orders. My crew and I lived on revolving credit. But the voice of reason was not having any of this. He tried to wean me off the really bad habits and offered to counsel me through some tough decisions..
There were times when his advice was not welcome and not well-received, mostly driven by fear of not having my childhood to blame for my bad financial decisions.
He got me to a point where I no longer had to ask advice for every big financial decision. I learned to trust my own thoughts and actions. It was great to start loving my financial decisions and not use my past as a crutch, or need the approval of society.
My new financial persona was dependent on a lot of self-reflection and uncomfortable truths. I had to learn to trust my gut and remember who I was doing this for. Me. No-one else but me. In order for me to get out of my toxic relationship with money, I had to learn to love and respect it.
In an effort to love money more, I wrote down everything I was thinking, and why I was thinking it, while making money decisions. I did this so I could see when the cycle of hate reared its ugly head. I was then able to dismiss it as no longer relevant and thereby gain some clarity.
And while having my then-boyfriend be supportive and encouraging was great, he also reminded me to trust myself more and steer clear of my self-sabotaging way of thinking.
The only thing left to do was to put my newfound attitude to money into practise. It was great to pay off accounts and destroy the revolving credit. My experience shook me enough to make me a cash or nothing buyer. I now save for anything I want or need. Sometimes when I get to the targeted saving, I feel I no longer want or need that item, and I stash the cash for some other need.
I’ve learnt to love my money. I respect and acknowledge my past ,and I am definitely loving having cash after the grown-up, responsible debit orders have had their way with my bank account.
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