Normally, I detest the word “breakthrough”. It’s a dramatic word, an exclamation of intense knowledge about oneself that I cannot help but be jealous of. I would imagine that somewhere someone’s subconscious would surface with such intensity that it was akin to the Koolaid Man smashing through a wall, all while screaming “OH YEAH!” Well, I had my Koolaid Man moment today, all while stuck in traffic.

For so long, the reasons for my spending habits were elusive to me. The causes lost in so much emotional baggage, not really coming forth until I was talking to my partner whilst in bumper to bumper traffic. I knew that there was a cause to create so much effect. The effects were surrounding me, cocooning me in excess of all kinds, which is now causing me to feel so smothered by my poor financial choices.

For most of my childhood, which is mostly blank to me because I cannot remember most of my traumatic upbringing, I felt absolutely worthless. I felt like I did not matter. My needs were not seen and in turn, my needs were neglected. I was neglected. I was abused both mentally and physically by my parents. I felt less than nothing. Money that my parents did have were spent on drugs and lush, truly eliminating anything that I needed. In turn, I internalized the weight of it, realizing that I did not matter to the two people who were supposed to love and care about me the most. I was brought into this world and swiftly discarded once I stopped being cute and controlled.

This started to change once I started making money of my own. My first check was cashed with my parents in the car, so they were now privy to how much I made, which led to getting calls for things that were needed because of their money and drug habits. I bought my parent’s attention unknowingly. The attention and importance that I wanted to feel, I was now swimming in it. I became an enabler and it was a vicious cycle. I was in too deep to crawl out. I bought groceries. I saved my leftover meals for them when I went out to eat. I hid big milestones in my life because since I was doing so good, “hey, can I borrow $100?” questions were around every corner. My mental health started to suffer because eventually all the attention and the love I was receiving came at a cost, I wasn’t their daughter, I was a cash cow. I again didn’t matter unless I was valuable. I honestly felt this more from my mother. Her calls were cold and quickly started asking me for money not even 30 seconds into the call. My father was more passive and I do believe there was a part of him that was more interested in how I was doing, but he still benefited from her.

Now years later, I am sitting in traffic, unmoving and yet I feel my mind soaring in so many directions. I feel this way when I am driving, lost in so much thought. Then it came to me. I started using money to create a sense of importance. I used my card as a badge of belonging. I matter because look at all the stuff I have now. I have everything that I could possibly ever need or want. I became the financial version of a parent to myself. But the problem is that there is no amount of money that I could spend to convince myself that I matter. There is no coin to prove my sense of belonging on this earth. Money isn’t going to fill the hole in my heart where my loving childhood memories should reside. I used money to feel like somebody, all while locking away the child within myself that is hurting and wanting to be seen.

I now have the reason why I use money to soothe the sadness that I feel. But what now? What happens now?

I honestly don’t know. I feel like the answer is somewhere where reparenting myself resides. The shift from buying my own love for myself to truly loving myself sans bribery is going to be a task. I am sure I will find the answer because of my tenacity for learning about new things, even learning to love myself and provide for myself without the influence of shiny baubles. Thank you for reading because it was difficult to write about this. As always, much emotional spending love,

Elle B.