I’ve been meaning to write this post for a long time. Putting it off means pushing the topic of this particularly personal story to the subconscious mind I guess. Which, we all know, is where those things lie that we can easily forget about, continue on with our daily life, and pretend they don’t exist. And ultimately I know, this isn’t the right way to go about things. Not only that, I’ve kind of learned that this is how these deep rooted problems escalate, and end up surfacing much further down the line when they’re not addressed correctly [or typed out to the world like I’m doing right now, ahem].
You want to hear my story? Please read on. I invite you, you’re on the guest list for this particular tale. I’m using this platform because firstly by me writing this enables me to deal with this situation more so, address and acknowledge it, and secondly to reach out to any one else who may have also fucked up a little like me- and how we can connect with each other, by knowing you aren’t alone in this- and essentially, becoming to realise and understand that in the grand scheme of this wonderful thing we call life? It isn’t that big of a problem, and everything can be solved one way or another.
I’m 31, and oh boy, I got myself royally entwisted in a *slight* financial pickle. I came at a baby age of 25 to Dubai, and to work for the airline I currently work for- to save [oh and to escape that heartbreak woe, but that’s going years back- we all good now in terms of that, phew! *punches air in momentary joy*]. Anyway, I digress. Back to the juicy stuff.
They became so easily accessible to get now that I was fully employed, young and independently living in this new foreign country- so at first I took one out to clear off some debts I had accumulated at home [yep you’re gonna see there’s a slight recurring pattern here]. Then came the loan top up a year later. One quick phone call and boom another 10k added to your bill. And a second one. I quickly discovered that my aim to save became more of a chance to full on rave [and shop] around the world and back again, and then some.
Fast forward 6 years, one credit card & one hefty loan later im thinking to myself-
Now I’ve become to realise through my lessons of ‘adulting’ [yes I write that term extremely loosely as I’ve evidently not done much of a good job at that so far], but that for everything there really is a reason. Even debt, pain, heartache and sorrow. Was I meant to get in to debt to finally learn a lifelong lesson to stop buying and living beyond my means? Absolutely. Was I meant to learn this lesson in my thirties rather than be way in to my life at 40 something, possibly have children and a family to provide for- and STILL be in this position?
There comes those days, when those monthly repayments of my stupidity do get on top of me. And get the better of me. Thus casting a downward spiral on every aspect of my life. I stay indoors, I keep the curtains closed, i bite all my nails until there’s nada left & I get lost in a cloud of worry and anxiety. Then comes the calming voice again, it’s just money.
Which is correct. Memories over money? Hell yeah I’d choose that every time, which, as this post is all about, was clearly the direction I chose to take. Each of us has our own struggle in some form or another, life is definitely not as rosy as those perfectly curated little squares on Instagram make out. And that’s why I love to write, to keep things real. And to hopefully reach out to like minded [silly buggars] people who chose the same costly [but oh so much fun] route as I.
I guess to summarise this post/ personal diary entry [and to those who may take the time to read it….] I will leave you with this quote;
“Every event has a purpose and every setback its lesson. I have realized that failure, whether of personal, professional or even spiritual kind, is essential to personal expansion. It brings inner growth and a whole host of psychic rewards. Never regret your past. Rather, embrace it as the teacher that it is.”
-Robin Sharma, The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari.