Let's talk about wealth

I have a dysfunctional relationship with money and spending. For some reason, I can't get my arms around my financial situation. I can't seem to take a clear-eyed, dispassionate look at my finances and then make logical, rational choices. I've never really been able to make or follow a budget. Instead, I've always aimed to make just enough so I don't have to worry about what I spend. In other words, I've sought to have a margin of error that allows me to say "whatever" and live on in hazy and willful ignorance.

This sort of attitude is fine if you're a childless renter in good economic times. However, that certainly doesn't describe my situation. To put things into perspective, I'm paying more in daycare costs now than I made during my entire first year out of college. Holy moly! Let me repeat that: I'm paying more in daycare costs now than I made during my entire first year out of college. And my income hasn't gone up all that much, so daycare costs -- and utilities and house stuff and medical bills and classes for the kids -- really do take a huge bite. So, as I say to my kids...no more funning around. Let's get serious here. Let's talk about wealth, the lack thereof, and my mental struggles with it.

There is a quote I came across recently. It's from David Copperfield, which I admit I've never read. It says,

"And think most of all of Mr. Micawber and his advice to David: 'Annual
income twenty pounds, annual expenditure nineteen nineteen six, result
happiness. Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure twenty
pounds ought and six, result misery.' Following that advice will
protect you from the worst of economic upheavals."

In other words, spending less than you make leads to happiness, and spending more than you make creates anxiety. Logically,I know this is right, but I've always thought about things the other way round. It's not so much that I try to spend more than I make, but I certainly don't equate saving money with happiness or other good feelings. Unfortunately for me, it's spending money that makes me feel this way.

Dickens is talking about wealth and how it makes us feel. For me, it's first and foremost about security. There should be a word for it -- security and happiness that comes from feeling wealthy. I'm sure the Germans do have a word for it, similar to Farfegnugen. That makes sense so far, but what makes me feel wealthy -- and therefore secure and happy -- is all messed up. There are several ways I end up experiencing this happiness that comes from feeling wealthy, and unfortunately none of them is particularly healthy, financially speaking.

First of all, I associate wealth and security with images of richness and stability. I remember as a teenager walking up 5th Avenue in New York with my mother, looking in the display windows of Tiffany's and other jewelry stores. I felt a sense of solidity, as if these big, thick buildings, with their gleaming displays would always be there. I remember going to amazing restaurants with my parents and afterwards stepping out into the day, feeling sated and protected, as if I was surrounded by a magical glow.

I remember visiting a college friend of my father's who had become a professor at Brown University. He had a large, well-ordered house with shiny wood floors and Harvard chairs in the study. He took us to a restaurant in Newport, where 19th-century shipping magnates had build huge, fortress-like mansions along the coast. The sun was low on the horizon as we pulled up to the restaurant, and my brother and I were allowed to run around on the well-manicured lawn. I felt a sense of security from the setting and from the fact that we were able to be part of it by going to the restaurant. I think back to that restaurant now and the quality of the light, and I think that it's something that I would like to have in my life. It's certainly something I would like to give my kids. But there's fat chance of that, since for us an evening out is Baja Fresh with a splurge at Starbucks if we're feeling flush.

I have many more images of the kind of solidity that makes me feel wealthy and secure, however temporarily. There's even a smell I associate with it -- a whiff of gin and tonics in the open air. The images include big sprawling houses on Point O'Woods and Nantucket. Volvo station wagons and Subaru Outbacks with LL Bean trim. Golden retrievers. A complex glass of wine in a calm, reflective place.

Perhaps I've seen one too many Ralph Lauren ads, because It seems that many of my images of wealth are kind of preppy. Or maybe it's just a remnant of coming of age in the 80s. In any case, that wealth wasn't real for me then, and it certainly isn't real now. Nobody ever bought me any jewelry from 5th Avenue. The youngest daughter of my father's college friend had Down's Syndrome. The shipping magnates of Newport are long gone, and for all I know their descendants may be facing foreclosure on their tract housing in scruffy New England suburbs. In reality, most of the time I recall smelling gin and tonics in the open air, I was working as a college bartender (or bahtendah, as we liked to say with a Boston accent).

Still, thinking of these things even now gives me comfort. It's pretty crazy, but there it is. So I experience this feeling of wealth, which has nothing to do with real money. And it doesn't get me any closer to any kind of security, financial or otherwise.

Wealth means something else to me as well. It's connected with shopping and the acquisition of stuff. I grew up in suburban America, shopping for sport. Like many kids, I hung out at malls, surrounded by material goods. Now that I think of it, it was pretty spiritually bankrupt, but of course I wasn't aware of that as a teenager. Obtaining certain items -- generally clothing and cosmetics -- made me feel secure and complete. I remember putting a certain Gunne Sax dress on layaway. I remember getting high heeled clogs when I was in junior high. These things were my armor. If I wore the right things to my nouveau riche public school, I would be protected. Maybe I wouldn't be popular, but I certainly wouldn't be a loser with a capital L on my forehead. At a certain point, my parents gave me a clothing allowance. I supplemented it with part-time McJobs. I knew that if I could find just the right outfit or pants or shoes, everything would be okay.

And, guess what? It's still like that for me today. I tell myself, I have to look professional and just right for work to build my image within the limitations of our office casual dress code. I think to myself, I just need to get the right pair of high black boots to wear with skirts, the right pair of low black boots to wear with pants. Or I need yet another black jacket or black shirt....and I will be protected and ready to go. (Yes, for me black is the new black. I should probably go shopping for some brighter colors sometime or else I'll start looking like somebody's Old World grandmother.) Again, these clothes make me feel secure and calm, like I've checked all of the boxes and am simply okay. I can now start from zero.

That's all good, but although my purchases make me feel wealthy, I'm in fact decreasing my actual wealth. It would make so much more sense just to be happy with the clothes I have....but they're never enough.

And finally, the third bass-akwards thing that makes me feel wealthy is finding bargains. Never mind, as Ben Franklin said, that it's not a bargain if you don't need it. Never mind that the spending depletes my resources. Engaging in the process of getting a good deal makes me feel like I'm being proactive about increasing my wealth.

Yesterday, for example, I bought a bunch of stuff at a thrift shop sale. It was great stuff. The price was right. I felt good. But it certainly didn't make me any richer. Nonetheless, I came away with the happiness that comes from feeling wealthy. I felt as if a hole had been filled.

And maybe that's what it all comes down to. For me, feeling wealthy is about filling up what feels empty. And it's more important to me to fill whatever emotional emptiness is inside me than to fill up the empty coffers of my bank account. It's something I'm going to have to get past, because this is the real world, man. Money doesn't grow on trees, and these are hard times. As the main earner, I have kids depending on me.

I just need to get it through my head that "saving" = "wealth". Or maybe it's that "not spending" = "wealth". Or perhaps I should think more broadly. Maybe I need to find other, healthier ways to fill the emptiness that I feel. Taking a deep breath, appreciating nature, listening to and watching my kids, enjoying a good book. It won't be natural or easy, but I've got to try. Once I learn to use my inner resources to create this feeling of wealth, maybe I"ll be able to focus on creating financial wealth as well. Then one of these months I may be able to I can keep my spending down to nineteen nineteen six rather than twenty ought and six.