Debt has changed me. It has stripped layers of pretence away everywhere, from my way of thinking to my wardrobe. It’s fascinating, funny and sometimes scary to see what remains after years of store-bought razzmatazz have been removed from your reality.
I used to think I’d be infinitely less than what Oprah would have called my Best Self without my Clarins skin care, Esteé Lauder Futurist foundation, designer leather skirt, Prada boots, weekly massage and monthly facial.
I was wrong, oh so wrong.
Before reaching this enlightened level, I had to wade through my own mental and financial molasses. A major lightbulb moment was the realisation that over-indebtedness does not start in your wallet, it starts in your mind.
It happens more or less like this. You sit at home feeling down and suddenly your credit and store cards start burning your pocket, much in the same way that the chocolate cake in the cupboard calls you at two in the morning. And off you go. On arriving at the mall, you dive into the shop of your weakness. Clothes, kitchenware, decor, computers.
Once you’ve fixated on item one, item two catches your eye, followed by item three, possibly item four and, what-the-hell-you-only-live-once, item five.
By the time you stagger out with your bags, you feel you deserve a nice lunch, a glass of wine, perhaps a movie. And as you stop for groceries on your way home, bread and milk pale into insignificance beside stuffed olives, white anchovies, organic herbs and artisan pastries.
So what has been happening in your mind? The dopamine doors have opened. Your grey matter has been secreting this “feel good hormone”, the very same one that gushes out as you hit the jackpot at your friendly neighbourhood casino.
And it’s got you on a high, but be warned, not of the all time variety. Sooner rather than later, you come down to earth with a crash, bang and whimper, not to mention the ghastly realisation that those purple platforms with the matching underwear are not going to do you, your love life or credit profile any good.
Not having the money to go shopping, I’ve had lots of time to think about my mind, and contemplate all the things I once couldn’t live without. .
I think of the things that could have been, that should have been and simply could no longer be there. When times were flush and credit plentiful, I sometimes had the sense that as my trolley became fuller, my soul became emptier.
The effect of living with soul and safety nets – the overdraft, the credit card, the store account – was quite profound. I became a slave to the Checkers, Spar and Pick ‘n Pay specials ads and leaflets. I began to watch prices per kg like a hawk and discovered with bittersweet pleasure the world of no name brands.
And “no” became my stock answer for everything costing more than R20 that my son wanted. No my darling, you can’t have a Playstation. Nee my liefie, ook nie die Xbox, of die 3d Nintendo of die 59 brake state-of-the-art- mountain bike nie.
I tried to do all of this of while not burdening my son with what every second motivational tome seems to be screaming out. A lack of abundance. At at times I have felt like the father in the movie Life is Beautiful, who convinces his son that the concentration camp is a holiday camp.
These days I look wistfully at my simplified wardrobe, and my humble skincare and cosmetics. I look at Nicholas’s collection of toys, books, DVDs and memorabilia and the pared down furniture in the simple yet comforting confines of the cottage my son and I now call home.
Then I look at myself in the mirror, I look at my beautiful son, at our motley crew of pets, at our friends and family, and I am grateful for the many things we have received. And I know now that a door never closes without a window opening somewhere.
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