There are loads of books and articles written about the wisdom gained from success, but not so many about the wisdom earned through failure. Here are some of my experiences I’d like to share as a cautionary tale with a relatively happy ending.
Flash back to a former marriage: I was 24, and had recently found work in an environment that was pleasant. The pay was awful, but at least it was steady. My ex-wife had a decent job, so our combined incomes allowed for a modest lifestyle with no real stress. We even managed to save some cash. We didn’t have to discuss money issues at all, apart from how to have fun with it.
We decided to have a baby. This flippant decision became a nightmare as we pushed through issues of infertility. Countless medical tests (ah, the horror of dashing across town with a container of man-juice) and the soul-destroying suddenness of a miscarriage added up to a small mountain of stress.
Infertility has emotional and financial costs that cannot be taken lightly. We were facing the unkind reality that certain treatments were beyond us in our efforts to do something other couples managed to do almost by accident: have a baby.
As suddenly as we’d miscarried, we became parents. I was so unprepared that I forgot to take nappies to the hospital for the birth.
We went on to move to a bigger house and have two more children. The job I’d had for twelve years was no longer sufficient when it came to paying the bills, so I tried another career. Then I got retrenched. I managed to find temporary work, so we survived that, too.
We’d bicker about money. That was mostly down to my inability to talk about it openly. I felt a strange sense of guilt and inadequacy about it, and I’d avoid any discussions about how to resolve money problems. We took out a bigger bond to cover our costs of living. Imagine buying groceries with a loan that would take 25 years to pay off.
My immaturity towards money wasn’t the reason for the collapse of our relationship, but it certainly contributed to the accumulated stress.
Divorce certainly doesn’t help with financial issues. Someone I know once likened divorce to being shipwrecked, and I’d agree. You wash up on a desert island with nothing but your damaged self-esteem. I found myself at the age of 39 with nothing to show for decades of work.
You know the inspirational poem, Footprints, where God is walking alongside someone on a beach, and there are two sets of footprints, until there is only one set, when God is carrying the person? Well, money is another set of footprints.
It stomps around you when you’re investing, and tiptoes behind you when you’re in need. Only money doesn’t carry you when you’re down, it kicks you. It’s always there, though, at the heart of every decision, and you can’t ignore it. I learned that it must be discussed, even if it hurts.
My parents were of the generation that didn’t discuss money. I have no idea what they went through to raise me and my brothers, although I am certain they, too, battled to make ends meet.
This worked for them, I suppose, but it didn’t help me at all. I never learned how to have money conversations. I reacted immaturely to money issues by avoiding and fearing the reality that was my bank account.
Then I met Karen. Recently divorced herself, we were both finding out who we were after years of marriage and financial dependence. Although we had nothing, we discovered something amazing: we had no reason to hide our brokenness, and we both knew that we desired happiness more than anything else. We’d both had poor relationships with money in the past but we longed for a relationship where we could be absolutely open about everything, even our empty pockets.
We do get extremely worried about how to pay the bills, but we talk about it, try and inspire each other. Although we both have nights where we do that idiotic domestic accounting practice of staring at the ceiling at 2am and fretting, in the morning we wake up and start over again.
We talk. About everything, whether it’s our fears or our happiness. We don’t always have answers, but it helps us to align our thoughts and it reminds us that we’re supportive of each other. It helps us to see our footprints and to keep up with the money footprints running rings around us. A problem is awful if you keep staring at it under the magnifying glass of silence, but it can be defused through the simple act of conversation.
Responsibility and maturity don’t sound like the most fun things to take on board, but, if you want to keep your ship afloat, they help to keep it buoyant. And you’ll find there’s more fun to be had on the deck than on a desert island.
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