How Much Money Means You Don’t Have to Worry?

How Much Money Means You Don’t Have to Worry?

By Caragh Poh   Mar. 11, 2019

 Get That Money is an exploration of the many ways we think about our finances — what we earn, what we have, and what we want.

 When I was a kid, I somehow became aware that some people could allegedly make $100,000 a year — more than both my parents combined some years, and the closest answer my father would give to my nosy questions about his income.

He always told me to never look down on people who do honest work for little pay, but, concerned I would tell other people, he also refused to tell me how much he made.

The lesson I drew from this has been a very Catholic-influenced do not ever make anyone feel ashamed, but please remember to allow shame to infiltrate your life at all times.

We were not a $100,000 family. I did not come from $100,000 stock. And so, obviously, making $100,000 became my one true path to happiness and feeling quietly better than everyone else. I could own a bigger house, with newer toys, and I could buy clothes that weren’t on sale at Walmart.

 I could own every single Backstreet Boys and Brandy CD. CDs were so expensive! CDs were $19.99 each! I would never fight with people I love about money.

​I would never let the hot water get shut off. I would never stand silently by a cashier at the head of a long line as they counted off pennies two-by-two 75 times.

 Of course, we were not truly poor. We were immensely privileged compared to many, but my bubble was very small and the other people in it all had better stuff — they had American Dolls that looked like them, cable, pink Power Wheels.

 Their living rooms had too-nice furniture I never quite felt comfortable or clean enough to sit on. And somehow it all matched, like a Good Homes magazine, like the pieces were bought at the same time, together, on purpose, from the same collection. Utterly alien.

 But back then, I was ignorant enough to think we were poor, and I’m dumb enough now to sometimes forget where we stood compared to most.

How much is enough to keep two people happy?

 My parents took out a mortgage for a raised ranch in 1996. We had a washer and dryer that almost always worked. We had shelter, we had bicycles, we eventually got a computer, and a bit later even got that cable.

​My parents allowed me to stay at home for free while I went through college with loans somewhat offset by multiple jobs. I had my own bedroom.

 Most of our material items came to us used, but we still had them. We were more or less comfortable, firmly stationed in our place in the lower-middle class. A whole family of Bruce Springsteen songs, baby.

 It’s a place so many know well: You’re always in a hole, but you’re also always digging out of it, so it’s never really all that bad. A little struggle never really hurt anyone.

 A little struggle never really hurt anyone, but too much struggle can strangle anything.

 Even a 30-year relationship. My parents argued constantly about bills for the last 20 years of their relationship, maybe especially when the argument wasn’t about the bills.

I watched their marriage burn until it fizzled out into two adults who lived under the same roof and only communicated through their four kids.

 It couldn’t have only been about the ever-growing debts, but I imagine it would’ve been a lot easier without them. More vacations, more material rewards to ease hard weeks, more time off from work, better health care, less worry, less math, fewer overdrafts, fewer debt collectors. The things people forget about when they try to tell you money can’t buy happiness.

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https://www.thecut.com/2019/03/how-much-money-means-you-dont-have-to-worry.html