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That was a popular phrase of my childhood: “beggars can’t be choosers.” I heard it from parents, grandparents, teachers, tv shows, and other sources. But the thing I’ve been learning over the past few years, is that we always have choices, usually with even more than two options to consider. Just because we don’t like some (or many) of the options, or the consequences they come with, doesn’t mean there isn’t the possibility of choice.
I don’t quite know where I’m going with this line of thought. I started out tonight wanting to write about a little thrift store trip from earlier this week. Thinking of thrift stores reminded me of a great, old thrift store (I wonder if its still around?), called Beggars & Choosers. Which of course lead to the first paragraph of this post. Now that’s out of the way, I’ll head back to my story and see if it ends up tying in.
You see, it seems every time I go into a thrift store I’m looking for something specific, but I don’t find it. Instead, I usually find some little treasure that puts a grin on my face and a song in my heart – but I don’t feel like I can buy it. So I sit and agonize over the small amount of money I would be spending, because shouldn’t I be saving that money for the item I originally thought I needed? Then I wander about the store having an internal argument with myself trying to rationalize the purchase or not making the purchase.
The problem of course, is that thrift stores just aren’t like regular stores. All I’d wanted this time is a large, cheap, air tight container to store flour. I could have easily gone to Walmart (or Target, or the Kitchen store) instead, but I’d seen a nice container the last time I was in the thrift store. It was, predictably, not there any more. Nor were any similar items.
Yes, I could have driven to Walmart and bought exactly the item I thought I needed for not too terribly much money. After all, people tell me since I’m low income now, I have no choice – I’ll have to start shopping at Walmart (see, there’s that beggar’s can’t be chooser’s mentality again).
Except it turns out, I only wanted a container for flour. My flour is already in a cheap, airtight container – a ziplock bag. I guess I was longing for the beautiful kitchen I left behind and thought if I put my flour in something nicer then this little apartment would feel more like home. Had I gone to Walmart, I’d have realized this difference later, felt guilty about wasting money on yet another something I didn’t actually need and, more importantly, missed an opportunity.
Meanwhile, what I apparently needed from the thrift store, was a pair of $3.00 rainbow colored chucks, equipped with silly Speedy Gonzalez patch and everything (ok, so they’re really Keds, I don’t care).
Now, why did I need those, rather than just want them, you might ask? Well, my feet didn’t need them, I have plenty of shoes. My soul, on the other hand, most certainly did need them, but without me even knowing it. Something about those goofy little shoes brought a piece of me back to myself today. A part of me I thought I’d lost for good. The part that considers herself worthy of cooking a nice dinner even when there’s no one else to feed and who likes to dance around the kitchen while cooking, singing, not quite at the top of her lungs (for which I hope my neighbors will one day forgive me).
So, I think the conclusion I’ve come to is that I need to make a choice to learn a different form of shopping. It starts with deciding that, for the most part, I will make do with the things I already have. When something needs replacing or if there is a need that must be filled, I will consider all my options (including the somewhat off-the-wall ones and the ones I might not like, such as going without) for filling that need, rather than just heading out to the stores and hunting down the lowest cost replacement that I can find.
At the same time, I will continue my thrift store and freecycle browsing, be open to the opportunities that await me (without agonizing or resorting to rationalizations over them), and see what other little treasures are out there to waken long forgotten parts of my soul and put new smiles on my face.
The first step in trying to adjust how I live to better match my finances is, of course, taking a look at the household budget. I’ve always used Quicken to manage my finances and have definitely used their budget feature. In the past my budget has been more of a guide, a target to aim for and if you miss a bit, who really cares (that’s what credit cards are for, right?). These days, I’m going to have to use it as the functional tool it was meant to be. Oh and um… actually, seriously attempt to stick to it.
Before I moved into my apartment, I wrote up a new budget. Its gotten some tweaking since then, as I learn some basic things, like how different electricity use (and thus cost) is in an apartment vs a stand-alone house. This is what my budget pie looks like; my starting point in this “How little money can I live off, without feeling poor?” experiment.
As you can see from the total at the bottom, I’ve some work ahead of me – particularly as my yearly income is only $14,500. For most people that work would be tidying up the resume, checking out the classifieds or online job sites, and looking for more income. For me, because of the necessities of my health problems, the approach I want to take in my life, and the gift of a year’s time to figure things out (also known as a piece of the divorce settlement paid monthly as if it were a support payment), I’ll be taking a different approach and looking at what I can cut out of that pie instead.
So, as any good pie-lover might do, I’ll start with the largest slice. Rent unfortunately isn’t something I can impact right now, short of taking on a roommate. I’ve no interest in doing that if I can at all avoid it. My health isn’t roommate friendly, its barely apartment friendly, so a roommate’s a last resort. I will however be keeping an eye out for those off-season rental deals. Since this is a college town, the majority of rentals change hands in the summer months when students leave school or arrive. The best rental deals often show up in midwinter, when everyone is settled, committed to their leases and landlords are feeling the pinch of property left empty.
Ideally, I’d love to start looking to buy. That gets complicated though.
I’d be looking for a tiny house on a decent sized lot, with room for gardening, dog play areas (read: digging, plant annihilation and other doggie landscaping fun), nut or fruit trees possibly, firewood storage, outdoor work & living space as well as storage for a 55 gallon drum of B100 and a bit of space for other outdoor ideas I might have. As for indoor space, I’ve learned that I feel quite comfortable in 800 square feet. Anything larger takes too much out of my health to keep up, and realistically is just wasted space. I do more of my living outside than I do inside. I’d also be looking for a fairly tiny price. I’m not interested in mortgage debt, or any sort of debt for that matter. I know economists and business people say differently, and maybe for their style of life they’re right, but for mine – there is no such thing as good debt.
The catch, of course, is that I don’t find many houses in the area that fit this description, or have the potential to. The few that do, they’re not for sale. The trend here runs the other way, large houses on tiny lots. Then of course there’s the cost. Life in the college town is nice and it has its perks, like a fare-free transit system, but living here is not cheap, even out of town a bit in the country. What I’m hoping is that I might reap the benefits of the trouble the housing market is having. This area used to be a seller’s market, with prices steadily heading ever higher and houses selling fast. My former neighbor’s home sold just a few years ago in 48 hours with a bidding war that ended in an over asking-price sale. Now, houses seem to just be sitting and waiting.
So I’ll sit and wait a bit too, for prices to start falling that is. Maybe by then I’ll have decided if I’m staying in the area or heading for somewhere new.
Clearly, one of the first things that comes next is adapting how I live to better fit my finances. Going from a household with a $100,000 annual income (at its peak), to an annual income of $14,500 – well, that’s going to be an interesting experience. Especially when you take into account that my health, while greatly improved, still seriously impacts my ability to hold a full-time job. I work in a public library, a great job that seems to mesh well with the particular needs CFIDS and Fibromyalgia force upon me. Unfortunately, I’m only physically able to work 20 hours a week. An incredible improvement over the years of not being able to work at all, but my earning ability is still sorely limited.
Now, this post could easily stop at a boring lesson in budgeting and frugality. Luckily for me, I’ve always had a desire for the “live simply” self-sustainable way of life. So I tend to see this, potentially soul sucking aspect of the changes in my life, as a challenge, an opportunity for growth, a chance to practice what so many preach, and a way to rediscover one piece of myself.
Struggling to stifle that part of myself, or reconcile it with our ever growing collection of gadgets, gizmos, toys for grown-ups, clothes, endless appliances, and miscellaneous Stuff was one of those (many) things that didn’t allow my relationship and marriage to thrive. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not placing blame. I certainly participated in America’s favorite pass-time, Consumerism (what, you thought it was Baseball?). It was how I felt about my participation that ate at me, helped to destroy my sense of self respect and self worth. That needed to change. I needed to change, in order to begin another aspect of my healing.
Of course, reality being different than the stuff of dreams and desires, we’ll have to see how much my vision of a self-sufficient, sustainable, simple life stands up to the pressures of it being a requirement, rather than a luxury.
It seems that all around me life is changing. Some changes are things I have no control over, like a 7 year stint with CFIDS now seemingly going into remission. Suddenly, I find I’m returning to the waking world. Like a ghost, finally starting to adapt to its ethereal life, unexpectedly becoming more solid again. Career lost, old friends gone, family missing vital parts of itself, uncertain what this body I inhabit can do, unsure of what I’m doing here, what I want, or even who I am.
Other changes are more of my own making. For example a 15 year relationship turned 4 year marriage turned “I’m sorry, but I just can’t do this anymore.” Moving out on my own to start a new life. A new job doing work I’d never done before. Trying new things, attempting to re-discover something as basic as my own likes, dislikes and passions. The possibility of swapping town for country, or town for mountains, or town for city. Maybe a new state, or how about a new country even?
Meanwhile the world around me changes (or doesn’t change, despite great need) in ways I struggle to comprehend. And all the while, some… instinct? within me speaks louder and with ever more urgency that a huge change is coming. At first I thought this persistent gnawing in my gut was related to my own personal life, but so many of my friends and acquaintances seem to be feeling similar urgings that I can’t help but wonder if the message has a broader scope.
So here I sit, in my tiny apartment which is very much not the home I spent the last decade creating, truly on my own for the first time since I can remember. With my newly recovered health, minimal responsibilities, a disturbingly low income, apparently a whole host of options and opportunities before me and I find myself wondering: What the hell do I do now?
Somewhat amusingly the answer that hit home the most came not from my therapist, my family, my divorce lawyer, my friends, co-workers or my ex. Though they all did kindly offer their sage advice. No, it came from a line in a TV show. Lost, I think it was. Pathetic, no? Anyway…
After being kicked out of a monastery, a man asks of his mentor:
“But what do I do now?”
His mentor answers, offering no further explanation:
“You do what comes next”
For some reason I found that a wholly comforting and satisfactory answer. So this blog is simply me, writing my way to what comes next.
