Touch memory’s face
as it basks in downy light,
shielded from time’s whim.

“Let It Last…” by Sergey Lysak ©2003 / ephotograph.com

Years ago I read Your Money or Your Life, and it startled me into awareness that money is the item for which I exchange my life energy. Essentially, every dollar I spend is a part of my life expended. I don’t get it back; thus, I ought to give consideration to how I allocate the money. After factoring the varying expenses related to my job (transportation, clothes, lunches) and deducting them from my wage, I was able to calculate my true hourly wage. When I went to the store and wanted to drop $12 on a book, or make-up, or magazines, I have the means to stop and ask: Do I want to exchange an hour of my life for this? Is it really something I want or need? It’s a big shift in thinking — most people don’t really consider that connection. We borrow and spend with impunity and then are saddled — no, entombed — with debt for years.

I would like to say that I practice this mindfulness and implement it fully, but alas, I struggle with my inner spendthrift still (though less often). Yet my attitude toward money did change to a degree — I started understanding that I was worth a good wage (that my skills are valuable and I’m not designated by Fickle Fate “to be a have-not”). I also stopped feeling there was something inherently repugnant about money. I do think that this attitude was, to some extent, the “sour grapes” defense I cultivated over many impoverished years. Not having the ease of money, I opted to cast myself in the light of “being a better person” for having “loftier” values. And now, as my fiancé teases, I’ve become comfortably bourgeoise. Twenty years ago I’d no idea this would be my life. I’m grateful for how it’s turned out so far.

Some facts on debt and bankruptcy in America

From DNC News: Turning the corner on ownership?:

Record Number of Households Filed for Bankruptcy.
In 2003, 1,625,208 households filed for bankruptcy, a 33% increase from 2000. Last year, middle class families faced record numbers of bankruptcies. [US Courts, Administrative Office, Bankruptcy Statistics]

One Household Bankruptcy Every 19 Seconds Last Year.
In the United States during 2003, 1 household every 19 seconds went bankrupt. [US Courts, Administrative Office, Bankruptcy Statistics]

Average Household Debt is $17,283.
In 2003, the average household debt in America was $17, 283, about 40% of family income. This is especially problematic when interest rates are poised to rise. A study by leading experts Alice Rivlin and Isabell Sawhill found, ‘Interest rates are likely to rise at least 1 percentage point, based on estimates from a variety of studies.’ A family with a 30-year home mortgage of $150,000 would see their interest payments go up $1,184 annually. [Rivlin and Sawhill, Restoring Budget Sanity, 2003 and Rubin, Orszag and Gale, ‘Sustained Budget Deficits,’ 2004; Federal Reserve, Consumer Credit Historical Data; Census Bureau]

Average Household Credit Card Debt is $9,205.
In 2003, American families were on average $9,205 in debt from credit cards. This credit card debt will also pose a significant problem for American families as interest rates rise in the coming months. [cardweb.com]

Growing up in Syracuse, I would see public service announcements on T.V. for the local hotline service, called CONTACT. I made use of that service on more than a few occasions as a teen and young adult. I wanted to volunteer, but I didn’t have the spare time. The intensive training program and minimum 12 hours a month while working two jobs and attending college part-time was beyond my energy level. More importantly, I lacked a car, which impeded the flexibility required; it wasn’t on a good bus route, and late night/overnight shifts were part of the commitment.

Finally, in the winter of 1992, I had wheels and slightly more time. It was an agonizing winter, as I recall; Syracuse received a record snowfall of 192.1 inches (16 feet!), which has not been repeated since. I began the training in January and discovered an intensity within me. At that time, I was still developing a sense of professional direction. I wanted to be a therapist, but I still had doubts as to my ability. The trainers mentored me. I recall easily getting into role as we practiced calls on each other; I wanted to make it feel real for the counselor-in-training. People remarked on my ability to slip into character, so to speak. Likewise, they thought I was a perceptive and empathetic listener. I shone.

After four months of training, I was ready to “go live.” I remember handling three different phone lines, often alone, since volunteer coverage was thin. At one point in January 1993, they selected a few of us and asked if we’d be interested in working overnight shifts for pay. I accepted.

Ah, what a bitterly cold winter it was. I remember my schedule. I would go to CONTACT at 11:00 p.m. on Sunday and take calls until 7:00 a.m Monday. Then I’d go home and sleep until 11:30 a.m., awaking to work at the library from noon to 7:30 p.m. I’d rush home and nap for a couple hours before heading out to CONTACT for another overnight. I would repeat the nap and the work shift, and finally crash Tuesday night.

I remember the chilled loneliness and boredom of 3:00 a.m. in a poorly insulated building when it was six degrees outside. I remember the exhaustion of two jobs (but I was packed with energy — I miss that). I remember not getting paid for weeks and weeks, because it was a non-profit with accounting struggles; so there was no immediate gratification for all that effort.

At some point in the spring, the exhaustion and emotional intensity of the work broke my resilience. I was working full-time, carrying six credit hours of classes. I’d had several frightening calls with suicidal people. Oh, and then there were the sex callers — men who wanted to masturbate to the sound of a woman’s voice. If you’re not intending to serve as a vehicle for that, it leaves you feeling pretty vile. Anyhow, I realized I needed a rest. I was finding it hard to detach from callers’ sadness, anger, and fear; their despair penetrated my defenses.

I met with the director and explained that I needed to stop volunteering. I felt terribly guilty for reneging on the commitment I’d made to serve others in need. Though I don’t know why; several other volunteers had needed to leave for various reasons. (It was another epiphany revealing my double-standard. It was okay for others to have needs, but I held myself to a “do it at all costs” expectations.) She was kind and empathetic. The pain of that whole experience made me doubt whether I “could handle” being a therapist. I’d often been told I was “too emotional” to be one. It was years later, after I decided this is my calling, that I realized detachment is a skill one attends graduate school to learn. And I learned to value my commitment to my own well-being, knowing that if I’m run down, I can be of little use to others’ souls.

It was a life-changing, affirming experience, part of the twisty-turny lifelong path I’ve traveled toward my right work. I’m facing another bend in the road, since I’m now living in a state which does not recognize — at all — my previous professional training, which is a master’s degree, a post-graduate internship of two years, and a licensing exam. If I want to practice as a therapist, I will have to do at least the latter two tasks (internship and exams) over again, and it’s likely I’ll need to take more courses in family therapy too. It’s rather demoralizing. I’m trying to think creatively about this. I’ve had one inquiry from someone wanting to work with a life coach, but I’m not prepared to take clients just yet. I have no office. How to make this work?

I’m open to ideas. Please share.

A slight push against
flimsy wood–what mystery
might hide behind it?

“A La Puerta” by Mari Burlingame ©2003 / ephotograph.com