Headache

I've had a headache for three days. I thought I was coming down with something, but I realized that I've been obsessing the last couple of days about...money.

I hate money.

My savings are running out quickly. I haven't found a new job yet, and I discovered I will only be getting about $600 back this year from my taxes. I expected about $1000.

I know everyone struggles with money. It is the forever present anxiety in our lives. But for most of my life, it wasn't an issue. My father is a doctor. He makes a good deal of money. When my parents were together, I never had to worry. But as soon as my parents separated, the money was an issue. Suddenly everything was divided, and my father seemed to horde what he had.

He was always a sort of scrooge about money. Granted, when I was a little girl, I didn't really want for anything, but my father still would never let me buy gum at the check out line at the grocery store. And as soon as I entered my senior year of high school, he decided he wasn't going to pay for as much of my education that was required of him by the divorce agreement. It's a long story. But basically, he agreed to pay for about a third of my tuition (he was required to pay a little over half).

Just after my first year at Columbia College, I decided that a city school was not for me. I didn't like the fact the Columbia had no community. I didn't have many friends. Not to mention, I was a white female, and at that time, I was the minority in my theatre program. I couldn't get a part in educational theatre to save my life. I also had an acting teacher who refused to give me a high grade because he said he only reserved those grades for "the exceptionally hard working".

I was soon accepted to Bradley University, and I was terribly excited about it. It was a smaller theatre program, away from home - and I would have that typical college experience that I wanted.

As soon as I told my father, he became very angry. He was furious that I wanted to transfer. He insisted he couldn't 'afford it', which is funny because at the time Columbia's tuition was more expensive then Bradley's. I remember talking to my father on the phone one night while I was still at Columbia, and telling him I was thinking about transferring. He didn't really take what I had to say seriously, which is why when I told him I was accepted to another school, he was so shocked. I am convinced he was mad because he felt I went 'behind his back' or something like that. Which I didn't. We got into another huge fight (my father and I fought a lot then) and he told me that it didn't matter what school I went to because I could basically get the same education anywhere.

I will never forget when he told me this. We were driving in his Ford Explorer. I was in the front passenger seat. I think we were near Midway, and he was fuming, just attacking me.

And I said:
"Well, what about medical school, dad? Don't you have to go to good medical school?"

And he said:
"Well, of course you have to go to a good medical school. But you can get the same education anywhere."

What an asshole.

It was never even about money. It was about the fact that I seemed less in his eyes - that my dreams and ambitions were not important - that I wasn't important.

So, from then on out, my father decided not to give much for my education. He always told me he 'couldn't afford it'.

The man skimped on my education, but he bought me diamonds - on more then on occasion.

My mother always talked about how she could have taken him to court as he didn't uphold his end of the divorce agreement. Even though I am very angry with my father, I could never do that. I couldn't loose the little bit of the father I had. He would have abandoned me forever.

When my parents were speaking, all they talked about was money. And me. Me and money - that's what I remember them fighting about. My brothers were out of the house by then. I was the only thing left. There was no way for me not to be in the middle.

My father believed that my mother brainwashed me to not like him.

Well, clearly that must be it. Because nothing he did to me was wrong or hurtful.

I am merely a girl after all.
Just a little, innocent girl with no thoughts of my own.

Blah.

The point I am trying to make is - I grew up very comfortably. I wouldn't have considered myself rich by any means, but we did go to Disney World every summer.

But as the family unit started to crumble, my mother's anxiety about money and finances exploded. She hadn't been on her own in over twenty years. She had always been taken care of, and now she had to learn to live all over again.

I do put some blame on my mother for my own financial anxieties - even though it's not really her fault. She didn't know how to handle it. But I will say at times, she was obsessive. Almost pulling out her hair worrying about how to pay for everything. She was the only model I had. I make budgets and lists all the time. But I don't even find that very helpful. I think about if I have anythingg I can sell. Maybe I should cancel Comcast? I pay over $80 a month. That's insane.

I use coupons. I don't regularly stop for Starbucks on the way home from work. But I find it really hard. Not just because I am used to spending more, but because I don't have anyone to hold me accountable but myself. And sometimes, (well, a lot) I give myself way too much slack. I buy things to feel good, to pass the time. I don't have a huge social life (yet) due to my hours at work. So a trip to Target becomes a way to get out of the house - and escape. Then before too long, I am making weekly escapes to Target. And before I can blink, I'm transferring another $100 out of my savings to my checking account.

My brain hurts. All this thinking.
It's exhausting being me.