I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the way we form associations in our minds. Our memories shape us, bend us to their will, and often make us into people without our awareness. I have a piece of furniture, an antique dresser that I got off the street when its last owner was getting ready to throw it out. It’s functional, even beautiful maybe, and the top of that dresser is so scuffed and scarred that it seems to have a part of every previous owner sitting there, staring up at me. I love those scuffs; they give the dresser context. Our memories are like that: they give us emotional context.
I’ve been thinking a lot recently about some of my issues with money, specifically how I feel about giving and receiving. My debt is mostly debt borne of my sister’s wedding celebrations earlier this year: flights to and from the wedding, bridal shower, and bachelorette party; a very expensive (but beautiful) wedding gift; the cost for the bridal shower itself…The list goes on and on. That’s typical of me; I love to give gifts to my friends and family. Not flashy gifts, mind you, but meaningful things: a dinner out in celebration of something; a special, thought-out present; even cards, which I give out regularly for different events.
Partly I’m thinking about this because Christmas is fast approaching, but partly it’s because of an argument I got into earlier this week. One of my friends also likes to buy things, mainly food and drink, and she’ll treat me to lunch or Starbucks or something several times a week. I know she’s just trying to do it because she’s a generous person, but instead of graciously accepting it for what it is, I often really argue with her on it. This week, we actually got into a pretty major argument where that was one of the issues.
“Why is it such a big deal? You buy me stuff all the time,” she said to me.
Suddenly, I found myself blurting out, “Because my dad always used money to control me!”
Silence. Dead. F*ing. Silence.
I was more stunned than she was, I think. It’s not that I equate her with my father, but that every time someone gives me something, somewhere deep inside of me I feel a twinge. My dad’s use of money to control us–to make us go where he wanted and do what he wanted–always boiled down to one thing in my family: I wasn’t worthy. My siblings were given access to things I never was because I was more rebellious, and therefore my dad took away funds frequently.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not complaining. It was my dad’s money to do with as he pleased, and I always had a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and clothes on my back. But I also felt that I was never worthy, of love or of gifts.
So now, instead of accepting gifts, I much prefer to give them, because it doesn’t come with that twinge, that fear that someone will realize that I’m not worthy of their gifts. My own scuffed top is showing, and though it’s part of me (and sometimes a beautiful part, that part that’s generous), I can’t help but want to slap on a new coat of paint and hope the scuffs don’t show through. Unfortunately, I have a lot of sanding to do before I’m ready for a new coat of paint.
In the meantime, I’m working on it a little at a time. I let my friend buy me Starbucks. We made up. And tonight, I’m sharing a little of my pain with all of you, my other friends, and hoping that (for now) it will be enough.
That’s quite a revelation. I can understand why that translates so directly into wanting to be the giver, and not the recipient. I’m glad you shared, and hope that it helps!
Aww, doll. I understand completely. I always felt like my father threw things in my face. Any time he bought me a school supply or even drove me somewhere, it eventually got held over my head the next time he was going off in one of his screaming fits.
It’s the reason why I can’t ever accept money from my boyfriend and never allow friends to pay for me. My constant comment is: You don’t need to pay for this, I can pay for it myself.
I understand one hundred percent.
I agree that money is deeply embedded in our emotional minds. My own dedication to saving up a big fat “freedom fund” is at least partially the manifestation of a desire to get out from under my parents’ collective thumb, emotional and financial both. Hence my reluctance to put money they gave me into it. One of the great things about money management, I think, is that it can be sort of like an emotional radar–it can clue you into the hotspots, places where you need to do some work emotionally as well as financially.
I understand where you come from. My dad used to give me money or would give me money based on certain conditions. He’d cut the check for college if I chose an acceptable major ie: science or engineering. When I switched to journalism, my dad held a very tight leash on the checkbook and was very reluctant. So I worked close to full-time to pay my own way.
My dad gave me $1,000 recently so I could attend a professional development conference. I haven’t cashed the check because if I take the money he’ll use it to control my career choices. Free money isn’t really free.
These memories are a constant source of struggle when friends want to pay for dinner or buy me a drink. I feel like I’m financially independent enough to pay my own way but sometimes it comes off a bit hard-headed.
WOW. Have you ever read The 9 Steps to Financial Freedom? I’m not a super huge fan of Suze Orman, but her little anecdotes at the start of chapters is a personal story about a client of hers and their relationship to money, their perspective on it and fears about it. It might help you gain some further insight into that feeling.
Keep in mind that it’s a two way street. I don’t know you or your friend, but for me, culturally, it’s important to be generous with my friends, and often that means a little coffee here, lunch treat there, etc. Understand that your friend might have been fulfilling what she feels is a cultural obligation of friendship and an expression of love, and not one of control and owing.
Celebrate what money is, and try to find a way to change your perspective on money as a means of control.
I’ll write you a post of my own about this subject.