The trouble with money...

Over the past year one of my biggest challenges being a single mom has been money.  Yes, finances.  No one likes to talk about it, no one likes to admit they don’t have any and a lot of people try to buy class with it.  

We are driven to want more, buy more, have more.  In the grand scheme of things, what does "more" even mean?  When the bottom suddenly falls out on you, "more" isn't even an option.  Day to day survival is.  Then, gradually, life has a way of settling.  You realize "more" was with you all along.

I spent many sleepless nights wondering how I was going to make this new life of mine work financially.  I would be up until 2 or 3am calculating, budgeting and was so worked up that I was physically sick more than once.  I mean, how can I do this alone on my income???  I have a part time job, run my own business (which really doesn’t contribute much to my income at all) child support payments coming in and my monthly child tax credit from Revenue Canada.  The total of my income per month is less than half of what it was when I was married.  But, here I am.  I have managed not to bounce a single cheque in a year and continue to pay all my bills on time.  I have the same expenses as I did with the four of us here but with less money coming in.  How can this be? 

Turns out, you don’t really need a lot of money to be happy.  Or “survive”.  I budget and it’s strict.  It’s not always “fair” but we always have enough.  And having enough is a state of mind.  I know I am fortunate…more fortunate than some in my situation.  I wake up every morning with a grateful heart appreciating what I have.  I also know that I want some ``wiggle`` room in my budget for the future.  Those decisions are totally up to me.  It`s freeing and terrifying to be responsible for my finances.  I am 100% responsible, succeed or fail.  I could have $1000 in my bank account or $1.00 in my bank account.  Either way, it's all me and I am doing it.

I have a car. It’s a nice car.  It is in one piece.  It runs well.  It’s not being repossessed out of my driveway. It’s great on gas.  I am content and grateful that I do not have to walk to the grocery store and that I can pick up go whenever I like.  Unless my car suddenly dies, never to be resurrected, I don’t see myself getting another one just for the sake of getting a new car.  I used to have a fancy van with automatic sliding doors, built in DVD player to entertain the kids and storage under the seats.  I don’t miss it.  Now we sing songs and play games on a trip.  There are toys in the back seat.  We communicate.  We laugh.

I do not own my own house.  I am ok with that.  I will someday and when the time comes, it will be something I can afford.  I will not mortgage myself to death for bragging rights to a concrete driveway.  If you have never lost everything, be grateful.  Because once you do, the type of hardware in your kitchen will be pretty meaningless.  Now I know some of you will draw your own conclusions with this. Thinking “she’s jealous” or “bitter”.  So before you get your knickers in a knot, this is untrue. I am happy for my friends who have these things.  It’s what they want and how they choose to live.  That just isn’t for me.  I like the uniqueness of my home.  I love that the drawer to left of my kitchen sink that holds my tea towels gets stuck every now and again.   I love the groans and creaks of an older place. I love that my door frame to the kitchen shows the marks of the how quickly my kids have grown over the years.  I love that my walkway isn’t perfect and has moss growing between the cracks. I love my lumpy brown lawn.  I love my maple tree in my backyard.  Trees are hard to come by these days.  I feel grateful that I was able to stay in the place we call home. 

My furniture isn’t the newest or the most expensive.  My dining room table is marked and scratched and worn with the memories of all the dinners, crafts, science experiments and laughter that lingers around each place setting.  Why would I want to trade that for a new table?  Antique dishes instead of modern pieces, mismatched cutlery and bowling alley glasses fill my cupboards.  These are important to me.  Sure I yearn for at least 8 teaspoons, yet they keep disappearing.  It’s not the cutlery that matters to me.  It’s the ice cream sundaes we eat with those spoons that makes me happy. 

My $50 Ikea chair is covered in paw prints, remnants of chocolate chip cookie and permanent marker.  It’s not overly stylish or even very nice looking.  However, it is the best chair in the house to curl up with a book, a cup of tea, take a nap or snuggle. You can actually use it. 

I have one TV in the whole house…gasp!!!  It’s not a big screen, bolted to my wall.  It’s not HD.  It’s not a plasma.  We have basic cable.  How do we survive you must be wondering?  We play, we draw, we read, we go outside, we make forts.  We create.

I have healthy kids who have learned to appreciate the value of a starry night, a picnic at the beach and the joy of lying in the grass guessing the animal shapes in the clouds.  Partly out of necessity and partly to keep the balance between the fun that you pay for and the fun that’s right in your own backyard. 

I guess my point is…why do we think we need more???  Your possessions don’t make you a better person.  They don’t make you nice to be around.  Your possessions, in my eyes, don’t define you. One of my favourite movies has this line in it:

"You're not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fucking khakis. "  Fight Club

Amen Fight Club.  Amen.

When you come to my home you will find shoes on the floor, smudges on my fridge, Lego men scattered among the books and toothpaste splatter on my mirrors.  You may even find the remnants of last weeks stink bomb that we created in our chemistry lab.  You will also find a place where you can put your feet up on my coffee table, set your drink down without a coaster, eat chips from the bag and walk barefoot on the mossy pathway.  You will find big dreams, imagination, rib crushing hugs and an open invitation for coffee. And love, alot of it.

Why am I telling you this?  Because my house isn’t a show house, it’s a home.  It’s messy and thrifty and well loved. It's lived in.  And that my friends, has more value than any professionally landscaped garden.  This was a lesson that I needed to learn. 

Without the events of the past year, I would still be trying to keep up and live beyond my means.   I came to realize that when I lost everything, I was given the opportunity to live life on my terms.  I was tired, stressed, scattered and afraid. I was dragged along the path of fear.  Afraid that we won’t have more than them.  Afraid of what others will think if we didn’t have this or that.  Afraid that we would never have enough to meet the standards of the ``friends`` we spent time with.

In place of feeling inadequate, stressed and anxious that I didn’t measure up, perspective, gratitude, peace and contentment filled my life once I realized I am not my bank account.  (Says the mostly broke woman who still dreams of winning the lottery)

Time has given me the amazing gift of knowledge.  Knowing that this moment is all I am guaranteed in life.  And it didn`t cost a thing.