A Financial Catastrophe Before Breakfast
What our relationship with money tells us about ourselves
“£1023.32 owed now”. I re-read my completed tax return in shock. I already knew I owed £2.5K in July and I am saving for that - this was extra. As someone who earns around £22K a year, an unexpected thousand pound bill is a substantial amount.
It completely cleared me out. Goodbye, fledgling fund for taking some time off when I turn 50 next October. Goodbye, small remaining amount of savings after I spent the rest last month on a very expensive Buddha. Goodbye sense of financial security. Goodbye pride-at-managing-my-money-well. Goodbye a thousand and twenty three lovely golden pounds.
Money, eh? I feel the nerves fizzing in my stomach as I share these figures with you.
Will you think I’m poor? I want to qualify my figures by saying that we receive our rent and most bills in return for running the temple, and so I can afford expensive chocolates and holidays in nice cottages with Kaspa and the dogs.
Will you think I’m too extravagant in a world that is burning up? I mostly buy second hand clothes and never fly.
Will you think I am undervaluing myself?
Are you scoffing at my unpreparedness?
Are you judging me?
It’s okay if you are, because I am already judging myself. My immediate reaction to the unexpected tax bill was a mini-explosion of shame, covered up almost immediately by self-sufficiency. I immediately batted away Kaspa’s offer of financial help, and started working out how I could sort out the mess.
After a little time had passed, a phrase slid into my thoughts. ‘It’s only numbers.’ My money is indeed only numbers on my phone - where it once said ‘1034’ it now says ‘0’, but that doesn’t actually change anything about my life. I know that I’ll work towards building my savings up again and in six months or so I’ll have a healthy buffer again. I have enough to eat and I have a small monthly budget for other essentials (books and breakfasts out with my friends). I am privileged in a myriad of ways.
After a little more time had passed, another thought arrived. I have been given an opportunity to give another thousand pounds to the government - not a government I would choose, and their spending plan isn’t the one I’d choose either, but they will give some of my money to folk who need it. I’m glad of that. I’m glad that it pays for fixing roads. I’m glad some of it goes to our National Health System, which my dad made use of before he died.
I moved some money around, set up the payment, and checked my email once more before leaving my desk for breakfast. There was a message from Substack telling me that £161.34 was due in my account today. A gift from you, dear readers.
It felt like a little reminder from the Universe. Keep doing your work as best you can, and you will be provided for. Don’t buy very expensive Buddhas very often (maybe leave it another decade), be as generous as you can with what you give away, and all will be well. You will be looked after.
The numbers in my banking app are lower than they were when I woke up, and right now that feels absolutely okay. From here I can see the emerald of spinach leaves in the veg patch, lit from behind by the sun. I have a dog by my feet. I have a day of good work ahead of me - psychotherapy clients, admin - and I have almost finished writing this piece - as a gift for you. Now it is time for granary toast with vegan butter (the good kind with plenty of fat) and marmite.
What more could I want?
Go gently,
Satya <3
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Things you might be curious about: This morning my adventures with money showed me various things about myself (or reminded me of them) - that sometimes I don’t pay attention to detail, that I can be impulsive, that I hate asking for or receiving help, that I am fiercely self-reliant - also that I like to learn from difficult things, that I am able to be honest with myself and others, and that I know deep down that the Universe has my back. What does your relationship with money show you about yourself? Let me know!
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As they say, the devil is in the details. As a writer of English haiku, I know life is all about details. And yes, I miss some too. With finances, I decide on purchases by asking myself if it is a want or a need. And sometimes, the answer is disappointment.
Yesterday I was walking the dog in a lovely park with my husband who is recovering from a painful back surgery. He was talking about the raised flower beds he wants to put in our little townhouse backyard. Nearby was a homeless man nodding off at a picnic table. The sharp contrast cut deeply. I wanted to stop talking about our house and plans, even though we've got our own struggles. As someone who experienced a period of homelessness, joblessness, food insecurity, abuse and financial terror decades ago, I did not want the man to overhear our conversation. What would he think? That I didn't understand? That I didn't care? That we are the privileged and he the marginalized?
I am indeed blessed beyond belief. Yet sometimes I don't feel deserving in a world that has so much suffering. I know I do good with what I have been given, I know these gifts are for me, and I know it is okay to accept them. But the distance between the head and the heart is a long, rough road. I travel it every day.