.I put the eggs on to boil, and set my toaster on the counter. Blood-sugar friendly bread, one slice. Mango jam, and a knife. Salt and pepper at the ready. As I'm standing there in the alleyway of my kitchen, in my housecoat that's actually a second-hand Versace wrap dress, in my perfect second-floor apartment, it hits me: I feel ...rich. I actually feel it.
A financial adviser once told me, "Poor is a state of mind". Anyone who knows me knows I have debt (for those of you who don't, here's the short version: I was an impatient baby in my early 20's). For many years now I have been trying to erase my financial history. When I heard that statement a few years back, I changed my language, and started calling myself "broke" instead, as the adviser suggested. I didn't want to have a poor state of mind.
Somehow, though, I still felt poor. Or broke. Whatever. The point is, I was unable to see past all of the things I couldn't (and still can't) do. But this morning, as the soft fabric of my robe brushed against my skin, and I let the bright orange jam cheer my senses, I saw in a fresh way all of the things I have oft' taken for granted. Truly, I am doing just fine. Not only to I get to live alone (luxury), sleep and shower at will, and exercise any freedom I want to, I am warm, comfortable, and well-fed. My skin is soft (hard labour? huh?), my hair is clean, and today, like every second Wednesday, is payday.
I have come to realize something about myself. I'm not financially hard-done-by, I'm bad with money. Sure, my younger behaviors have restricted my current liberties, but my current behaviors, to a lesser extent, do the same. "Poor" as a state of mind, and even "broke" as a final reality, are lame excuses for what is often bad money management.