Saving money while living alone

After all of the awkward and painful situations I’ve been in, I don’t think I can ever go back to living with a roommate. The price tag for your own place, let alone one large enough to take care of multiple pets, is easily the largest expense you could have, especially on the west coast of the U.S. I wish there were another way to peacefully live alone and still feel comfortable and safe.

I make too much money to still be broke.

The first step to recovery is realizing you have a problem in the first place.

I make a US$66,000 salary, which is pretty decent for where I live. I saved $7,000 to move to a new state, rent a one-bedroom apartment and live alone for the first time. (I’ve always relied on living with other people to help pay the rent, but during this “anything goes” COVID situation in the US I realized it’d be better for my mental health to finally move out on my own.) 

When I moved into this apartment in May, I told myself that minimalism would help me stay on-budget. With that in mind, I splurged on the essential things that I knew would make me feel more at home and establish new routines — nice new cookware, a Fellow digital kettle, a Thuma bed frame that Instagram convinced me I needed...and because I was coming from San Francisco, where the cost of living is completely insane and nothing is reasonably priced, suddenly I could afford anything I wanted with no problem! I adopted a rescue cat, installed bookshelves, bought my first “smart home” thing (an Alexa Dot speaker) and some Philips Hue smart lights I could control with my voice. Fancy! Oh, wait...wasn’t I supposed to be “minimalist?”

Please note, my dear, probably nonexistent reader, that it doesn’t end there. As I began to fill out my apartment, every new addition inspired another. I have a smart home assistant now, so shouldn’t I have more than one Smart Thing to connect it to? I bought a smart TV. But my apartment is a bit small, so I should hang the TV on the wall to save space! I bought a TV mount. Oh, and my Redbubble side business will be easier to launch if I have a scanner...but here’s a scanner-printer combo that’s also Alexa-capable! Obviously that’s the more optimized choice. But now I need a place to put it...time to install more shelves! While I’m at it, I’m working full-time and going back to school next month, so I should put some effort into getting organized...time to hit up Container Store? All the while, I continued to voraciously consume the local pillow market. Bed pillows, throw pillows, floor pillows, body pillows...so many pillows! So much comfort!

This is my problem. That $7,000 ran out months ago. The phrase “I should look at my budget” only enters my brain the day before payday, and no other day. I paid for the essential furniture with my debit card using money I already had, but by the time I got to the “throw pillow” circle of hell, I was using “buy now pay later” services like Klarna and Affirm. On pillows. Pillows! I realized my TV was purchased through a lease-to-own business for twice its value over a week after it had been delivered to my home. 

For the amount of money that I earn, I shouldn’t even need to think about these sorts of services. Back when I was actually struggling I used my upbringing as an excuse for why I’m living paycheck to paycheck; my mom wasn’t great with money either, and she didn’t like her “little girl” going outside on her own, so I wasn’t allowed to get a job in my teens. She died when I was still in high school, and I was wholly unprepared to fend for myself or participate in the economy. I wallowed in a painful period of underemployment, couchsurfing, and struggling to put myself through college, but I “picked myself up by my bootstraps” as well as I could, eventually dropping out of college to take an internship that turned into a lucrative job. As soon as I was getting paid enough to furnish the comforts I never had as a child, I dove right into late-stage capitalism and never looked back.

At 30 years old, that look back is way overdue. I’m going back to school — which costs money. I have a (cat) son now and would love to adopt a dog soon, both of whom will costs lots of money to keep healthy and happy. I have a therapist, who is worth every penny, but good god does she cost money. I don’t buy things I don’t value, or keep things I don’t use; I can look around my apartment and tell you what everything cost me and why I have it. I spent so much of my energy in COVID making this place as perfect, as functional, as OpTiMiZeD as possible, and I regret nothing! 

That’s the problem. All of this stuff is necessary, sure, but the timing wasn’t. I needed a printer a month from now, so why did I overdraft my debit card to get it last week? Why did I agree to adopt the cat without at least some savings to back me up in case of an emergency? I mean, shit...what about my own health? I am lucky enough to have a health savings account...with nothing in it, because I keep withdrawing money. Why do I feel such an urgent need every payday to drive my account balance back to zero in the name of “optimization?” Spending all of my money on Friday makes it impossible for me to be in my friends’ lives the next Wednesday. What’s more, I need to save money for a computer this year, and I want to buy a car next year. If I logically understand why I should save my money, why can’t I do it? What is keeping me in this ongoing loop of “optimizing” my space when saving would help me optimize my life and overall happiness?

I started this blog to chronicle my journey through compulsive shopping, retail therapy, and overspending in hopes that I can find other people who have started from the bottom of financial literacy, like me, and lived to tell the tale. Has anyone else been caught in this vicious cycle, or currently going through it? Say hey, if you have. Or feel free to lurk and watch my journey to financial stability from afar. Thanks for dropping by, either way. :)