“I’m so broke right now that my nervous breakdown is on layaway.”
Today’s #CONFESSION: I’m broke.
I’m currently dodging calls from debt collectors like Neo in the Matrix. Only I don’t have his moves. #FML
How did I get myself in this mess?
I’d like to blame genetics but I should have learned from my father’s mistakes; his “spend first, pay it later attitude” – not copied them. I’d like to blame the no-job-having baby daddy but I refuse to give him that much credit. Get it, credit? Ok, I’ll stop.
So in the end who’s to blame?
Me, myself, and the this thing called life.
When I graduated from college I was debt free. #thanksparentalunits But that doesn’t mean I had money or knew how to manage money. It did however allow me to pursue a creative career which is code for long hours, little pay but loads for the resume.
Or so I thought….
Turns out my job wasn’t as much about branding as it was about babysitting. Welp. That job lasted about 6 months before my mental health problems overtook my motivation to mansit and I was “let go”. As my boss put it – “You’re too smart to be my assistant for the next year…” Best break up/firing #ever.
Even with the second job I had started before I was let go – nannying – and unemployment I slowly spiraled into depression and debt. By the time I moved home when my lease was up 7 months later I had racked up a few thousand in credit card and personal debt.
Luckily a couple months later I was able to find a new job in my desired field of marketing and advertising but after a few months I was “let go” again. I went from mansitting to work mistress, i.e. being the third employee in a company run by a married couple. You can’t complain to one boss when they’re sleeping with your other boss. Wife trumps work mistress. The end.
And then I started working for my mother. And if you haven’t read about the dysfunctional dynamic that is my mother and I – please direct your attention to this post. Needless to say working and living with my mother did wonders for well-being… and my wallet.
I felt trapped. I needed money but I couldn’t move. At least not more than a 100 feet. #housearrest
But I digress….
I think it’s time to tell you how I went from my alma mater to my arresting officer…#staytuned