You're Only As Sick As Your Secrets
So I'm telling (about the time I spent $40 I didn't have on soap).
I bought myself $40 hand soap for my birthday this year.
It was actually purchased the day before my birthday when I was alone, walking around Cobble Hill. I had just taken myself to lunch and was having the kind of day where I try (sometimes successfully) to convince myself that yes, actually I am good at being by myself. I’m so good at being by myself that I’ll post all about it on Instagram and then I will spend the rest of my “alone” time with you, waiting to see how much you like my alone-ability.
The woman who walked into Aesop is the one I might want to be, the one who wouldn’t bat an eye at a $40 exfoliating soap -- excuse me -- $40 Reverence Aromatique Hand Wash. The woman I am is more Mrs. Meyers $5.99 lavender. But it was my birthday! And hand washing had become so in vogue. COVID and all. I deserved this. I could be an Aesop woman. It would be my new thing.
And thus, with a mindless swipe of my Chase Sapphire I became she who I was destined to be.
It was a $40 drop in the bucket of my gaping credit card debt hole.
I started thinking about that moment this week, while I scraped the bottle for final remaining remnants of, and I quote the bottle: “exfoliating hand wash with finely milled Pumice to gentry scrub the hands, enhanced with petitgrain extract and bergamot rind to ensure scrupulously clean hands.”
On one hand, I still can’t believe how long my hands had existed in the world just being unscrupulously clean. And just look at her. She looks rich.
On the other, pretending I can afford to live scrupulously is something I am familiar with -- quite good at, in fact. I won’t say no to a night out, dinner at an expensive restaurant, a $300 bridesmaid dress (on sale from $550!) I used to reason that these were things I wanted to do and buy, that I would figure the money stuff out later. And to be fair, I don’t regret a lot of that stuff. Going out to dinner is fun and drinking good wine is -- also fun! But in all of it, there was never a question of who I was doing it for and why. Of course I could be available to everyone at any time regardless of cost -- emotional or literal. So I would watch the debt increase, tell myself it was time to get serious about it, go back to spending mindlessly. What’s another $17 glass of wine, right?
The common thread looping through all of these experiences was (is) shame. “Not bad for everything we ordered!” I’d say, forking over my credit card to cover a nearly $100 dinner. I’d feel shame over not being able to afford something, but the thrill of spending money trumped the anxiety of overspending it. With shame came the panic of FOO (fear of overdrafting, duh). And of course, shame that I couldn’t get my shit together to be more financially capable.
The truth is very few of us are taught how to handle any of this shit. And spending your entire life trying to make sure everyone likes you is expensive. If I spend money to go out with you, you’ll love me. If you love me, you won’t leave me. And then I won’t be alone.
I found myself extremely alone Saturday evening. With many of my friends out of town or otherwise engaged, I realized somewhere around the 5:00 PM hour that I had -- gasp -- nothing to do. Walking home through my busy neighborhood, past all the groups of friends wearing flowy dresses, drinking expensive natural wine out of sweaty glasses, I felt lonely. No matter that I had been at a table just like that one with my friends one day earlier and no matter that it was actually too hot to really enjoy eating outdoors. I felt alone and -- you guessed it -- ashamed of my alone-ness.
I wanted to stop at the wine shop to buy lonely-lesseners. But I didn’t. I went home and read a book and made pasta and went to sleep early, and then I woke up without swollen fingers or a puffy face and got in my car and went to the beach by myself (unless you count my beach chair as a person which I do so -- disregard).
The truth is that all these plans and dinners and opportunities to spend have helped me avoid down time and as a result avoid thinking about my pain and grief - whether by drinking too much, spending too much or doing too much. Motion keeps the bad, scary feelings at a distance. My dad, his addiction and my grief over his death then, have, over the years, become an abstract idea more than an actual experience involving actual people. In therapy and even more recently in Al Anon, I have been quieter, taken time to look inward, think about what it would have been like for him to be sitting in those very rooms, rooms that he sat in when he was alive. Acknowledging him as a human with a disease has made me feel a lot of pain -- but also closer to him and in turn, closer to knowing myself.
And myself is a person who wants to go home sometimes and stop numbing myself and get the fuck out of credit card debt.
So I’ve been drinking less. Not not drinking, just drinking less. And writing more. And reading more (I have shame about books I haven’t read or authors I am unfamiliar with when I have the audacity to call myself a “writer” and “reader” -- but that’s a brain spiral for another time).
I am starting to want to figure out how to budget, how to do a little more feeling and (a little) less doing.
All of this is to say that if you are, like me, someone who feels shame about money or shame surrounding how much you spend or the reasons you spend it -- consciously or subconsciously -- I hope this helps. Reading about other people’s messy stuff makes me feel less alone and sharing the truth about my messed up relationship with money kills the shame monster lurking within (for more on shame monsters, see Big Mouth).
If nothing else, I hope someone from Aesop PR sees this and sends me new soap as mine is out and my hands are once again at risk of becoming unscrupulously clean.
Just kidding. Kind of.
It feels kind of insane to segway into sharing some things I have purchased and am liking right now. Here they are anyway!
My HAIR. It’s blonde! But natural? And perfect? I love it so much. I got it done at The Karcher in Greenpoint, which happens to be across the street from Peter Pan Donuts, where I promptly brought my new blonde hair and bought four old fashioneds (donuts not cocktails) immediately following my haircut. Absolutely zero shame in that game.
Casey Wilson’s memoir, The Wreckage of my Presence. It wrecked me (sorry) In the best way. Also if you haven’t watched Happy Endings, go leave this newsletter here and start.
The $20 parking fee at Jacob Riis and the Tibetan food my mom and I ate in Jackson Heights later that day, here.
These Tevas that I haven’t actually bought (yet) but want.
A Roku so I can finally watch The White Lotus not on my computer (I know, I’m late on all fronts).
And yeah, fuck it, the Aesop hand wash. It rocks. I’m not repurchasing anytime soon but you should.
OK, love you. Thanks as always for reading.
Love,
Jamie AF
P.S. Thank you Al Anon (AND THE CHICKS) for headline help.
The two best things I learned about money are that soon as you owe somebody money you’re in affect bankrupt so don’t use money you don’t have. Second best thing is, ask my father, he’s a financial genius and will help you succeed in reaching your financial goals
I'm on the journey too. Well, my path/journey. (Thanks Al Anon). Its so weird to me how anything functions in our world with the way most "adults" go about their lives. Trying to stay in the here and now and loved reading your post:) I'm on the other side of the money issue in that I'm not able to spend money without intense anxiety so what can I say we all have our things. Hoping I can get myself to buy some much needed clothing sooner rather than later. Anywho love to you and you are not alone:) xoxo