#109: The Root of All Evil
The deep anxieties of financial precarity and money-based PTSD
What if I can never pay off my student loans? What if I literally die in debt? These are the questions I am asking myself in this moment as I hold in my shaking hands yet another collection notice.
Money, it is said, is the root of all evil. I believe this to be true. It is also the root of my severe anxiety, the ever-present beast that whispers in my ear: Something bad is about to happen.
When you grow up in an environment of economic uncertainty, you develop coping mechanisms. Some people become workaholics; others, even when reaching a place of financial stability, either drastically overspend or underspend in response to the deeply held core belief that financial stability and abundance is not the norm for them. Sadly, as in many cases of financial PTSD, there is a fear that it will never be.
I envy those who move through life without the fear of not having enough. I wish I did not know what it was to beg a bank teller to reverse an overdraft fee because I simply did not have the money to pay it.
I wish I did not know the feeling of my credit card going to collections, the pain of being harassed almost daily by debt collectors while I try to stay on top of medical, student loan, and credit card debt payments.
I don’t want to get to the end of my life and think: All I ever did was worry. But it’s very hard when you are in a situation where that is the reality.
I have it better than most; I have a few people I can fall back on when times get unbearable. But the plain truth remains: I am broke and have been for a very long time. The money I make goes to paying my many bills, and even when they are paid, new bills arrive.
Medicines, dental procedures, car insurance, rent, phone bills, food — the list is endless. I don’t know how people cope in this modern world. In a relatively well-off position, I’m barely staying afloat.
The debt I cannot change, nor the interest rates that accrue rapidly like demons twisting the knife even further. I also can’t control the ever rising prices of food, basic goods and necessities. But perhaps, just maybe, I can change my thoughts about my lack of financial abundance.
In A New Earth, Eckhart Tolle talks about how we are not our thoughts but the observer of our thoughts. Louise Hay shared a similar philosophy in a talk that I still return to from time to time called How to Love Yourself. The idea is simple: Panic and anxiety are observations of the mind, not the mind itself. While it is tremendously difficult, the more we can detach and focus only on what we can control, the more we can free ourselves from the roller coaster of emotions, like the one I had just now.
Fear, biologically and evolutionarily, was meant to be a teacher, a helper. “Don’t eat that plant,” fear would say; “it is poisonous.” However, in our modern world, where fear tries its best to help us, we often are left with the evolutionary fight-or-flight response that is wildly disproportionate to the matter at hand.
For example, my heart began to race, and I felt myself slipping into the throes of a panic attack when I saw that I had yet another bill, mostly interest, due this month on a student loan. My current salary prohibits me from paying it. I’m doing my best to pay my bills and debts, but the fact of the matter is: I simply do not earn enough money to afford what they are asking of me.
Isn’t it fascinating that financial notices have the ability to torture us so? That words on a page can strike fear in our hearts and send us into a panicked state of terror?
Perhaps, had I not come from decades of familial financial instability, I might have fared better when I opened this notice. I might have logically deduced, “Alright, they say you owe this much; you’ll pay as much as you can and continue doing your best. That’s all you can do.”
Sadly, my brain does not work this way. Neither does yours, I imagine.
Our brains and thoughts aren’t wired to be rational, and my amygdala, like yours if you’re reading this, likely over-secretes, causing feelings of, “OH MY GOD! I AM GOING TO DIE!? I CAN’T AFFORD THIS!? WHAT AM I GOING TO DO? F*CK, F*CK, F*CK!?”
I’m not here to tell you that this can be solved, that the fight-or-flight or panic attack response to genuinely distressing things can be magically cured. I’m only here to tell you that I understand, that you aren’t alone, that so many of us are struggling with this same thing, and so many of us feel hopeless when we don’t feel panicked and uncertain.
Sometimes, I think just accepting how much something sucks might be the first step to detaching from the emotional reaction to it. Nobody should be forced to feel this way. That’s just the reality of it.
My mother used to use an expression when I was little: “You can’t squeeze blood from a turnip,” essentially meaning, “You can’t take what’s not there.” So if I’m doing the best I can and I simply do not have the money to pay the full amount, well, that’s all I can really do — continue to try my best.
I would love, if you feel comfortable, for you to share your money, debt, financial anxiety, and PTSD stories below in the comments. What’s worked for you when dealing with financial anxiety, precarity, and stress? How have you overcome this anxiety?
Or, even better, how have you made it to a place in your life where you aren’t burdened by ever-accumulating debts? Any tips for the rest of us?
Sincerely,
Trying My Best, But Still Coming Up Short
P.S. Here’s my favorite song this week:
I really wish you well, and you are in my prayers!