I’ve heard people say debting and spending are not real addictions.
If the debtor believes someone, somewhere will take care of her no matter what she chooses to do with her money, even after every living room she has access to has had her bedding in it for weeks at a time while she’s getting back on her feet… again…
If the spender believes lunch out and a big tip are no big deal, even when she has no bank account, a listing in check systems and a job that doesn’t cover living expenses…
If the debtor repeatedly fails to consider utility bills as worthy of consideration (since they’re too damn high anyway) and lets them pile up, moving out before the power company cuts her off…
If the spender smokes two pack of Newports a day, usually at a cafe, huddled over a sanity saving notebook madly writing first thoughts, periodically sipping from a large latte even though she has no food in the fridge, a five in her pocket and doesn’t work for two more days…
If the debtor alienates yet another well meaning friend who failed to see the evidence until $300 of their kind cash has been squandered by the recipient with barely a “Thank you” which was mumbled with a tint of entitlement… and never spoken of again…
If the spender feels anxious with a $100 tip day, thinking only of what she can do with that money today even though yesterday’s obligations are piling up in the closet and tomorrow (if she were to look ahead, but she won’t), looks like a graveyard of buried intentions…
If the debtor can’t (won’t?) hold a job or keep a suitable place to live more than three months at a time even though no one would show up to help her move anymore, though she won’t ask, too proud of her ability to be independent (ironically)…
If the spender one day finds herself with no food, no money, no place to call home save her mother’s living room and no job prospects (local temp agencies no longer trust her to stay on more than a few weeks so have stopped calling back)…
Spending and debting are an addiction, capable of ruining her life.
It’s not that she lacks initiative, intelligence, drive, desire to succeed. Wherever she lives, the rooms are clean due to her effort. Wherever she works, customers appreciate her company and attentiveness (until she begins to crumble, and she always does eventually). She writes nearly every day and her work is appreciated by a wide audience. She even co-produced and hosted two well attended open mics during a period of relative (though not sustainable) stability.
She doesn’t even know what’s going on or that there’s really a problem. Not until she asks for help from a woman who has been where she finds herself. Not until she has to leave the table where her sickening financial numbers (what a pitiful sight they were) are spread out and raked over with brutal honesty, and head for the bathroom again and again when the need to vomit colors everything.
Hanging on for dear life, I walked in to the rooms of DA(Debtors Anonymous). For a while I didn’t speak beyond, “Hi, my name is Heidi, I’m (long pause) a compulsive debtor and spender.” I looked at the swan like neck of a beautiful fellow traveler as she spoke, her words allowing the dawn of my understanding to break over the horizon of hope. For a while, I floated to a safe and fetal space during the opening readings. Eventually I spoke, a river of truth (finally) pouring from my being. That first year, from my wooden seat where I looked out the window as I listened to miracles, setbacks, pain and relief, I was aware of the beauty of seasons changing for the first time in ages.
That was 13 years ago.
At one of my early meetings, I was guided through writing a vision for my life as I would want it to be if time and money were not issues. I was asked to dream big, not hold back. I was given permission to look beyond the chaos around me to a time when I might be wholly engaged in a daily life built on a solid foundation (be what? but I trusted and wrote).
Between then and now, as I neared the repayment of another debt or experienced any kind of prosperity, I fumbled and sank into old patterns (taking my new family into the madness with me) until I learned to slow down, hold onto the painful truth that I’m an addict and so take careful steps to take care of myself (gently and patiently) during these violent inner struggles to keep with this unfamiliar path of solvency and not give in to the security blanket of dysfunction I’m comfortable with.
Today, when my turn comes to introduce myself, I say (with complete honesty and sometimes tears),
“Hi, my name is Heidi. I’m a gratefully recovering debtor and spender, living my vision today.”
This is my story. Each persons story is different. In some cases, millions of dollars are involved and in others, just a few thousand. It’s not about the money. It’s about using money or lack of it as a drug. This is different from simply having financial challenges. To give you a concrete example, each time I mailed in a final payment on a debt, my heart raced, I sweat and I had to focus on regulating my breathing. Sometimes it took days for my reaction to fade. Giving up my pacifier was beyond frightening and extremely physical.
For anyone who’s interested in learning more, here’s a link to Debtors Anonymous.
I’m re-posting this piece in honor of another life dream becoming a reality. I was at my first Debtors Anonymous Vision’s Workshop when I wrote down my desire to live full-time in an RV. Today I’m writing from a pull out couch in our 27ft x 8ft home on wheels. If someone told me it would take fourteen years, I might have given up, content to simply hope that with the help of my Higher Power, I might one day be able to pay my rent on time consistently, hold a job for more than three months, and not be consumed with the desire and determination to destroy any stability I may manage to create. Now I see fourteen years as the blink of an eye.