embarrassment of riches
Like many people, I have a longstanding list of things to do when (if?) I have more money. This list isn't just expensive clothes I want, though I like to think about them too, of course. Instead it's more like: start contributing to my retirement account again. Freeze some eggs? Finally see someone about the chronic tension that's lived in the right side of my body since I was 18.
In the last few years, I have started making more and steadier money, and it turns out that's a loose concept, "more." It's been hard to identify how much more "more" actually means, especially since my work is so unpredictable. I spent the first few years of my income jump-- from regularly earning around $50k to around $80k-- just, like, establishing a regular savings account again. And trying to get myself to believe that that number would stay stable, instead of taking a dive.
Finally, a few months ago, I managed to convince myself that it was time to take the next step. One of the things that means is that I'm going to a physical therapist to deal with my TMJ. About this, I alternate between two emotional poles: embarrassed that I'm doing it at all, that I'm acting like something I've lived with for half of my life really needs hundreds of dollars of specialized care... and also, somehow, embarrassed that it took me this long to start actually dealing with it. What was I doing all that time, clenching my teeth, weathering the tension headaches? Why didn't I start taking care of myself sooner?
Or, I'm talking to a financial advisor about how to deal with my money: where and how it should be invested. I feel deep, abiding shame about the state of that savings account I mentioned earlier (even though, of course, I'm lucky to have one at all-- fewer than half of American adults have $1,000 to spare for an emergency!) I'm ashamed about the fact that I haven't put a cent towards retirement since I left my last full-time job in 2016. I don't have a ROTH IRA or any investments. I'm a walking version of that Liz Lemon line, "I've got like, twelve grand in checking?" except LOL, I do not have twelve grand.
Shame, shame, shame, shame. About having too much privilege and not enough money, and not knowing what to do with it, the money, that is, when I do have it. The way I've spent what I did have in the mean time. The years I bought nice dresses instead of physical therapy. The way I avoided, neglected, taking care of my money, especially when it might have also meant taking better care of myself.
But and also. I was broke. And I was stressed out, because I was broke. The thing I lacked was not just money but mental energy to do anything other than make it, and throw it at the problems that felt solvable-- always small-scale, and the source of some nice instant gratification once solved.
I am trying to spend differently now, and that's one thing. Related, but harder, is changing how I think. Giving up the habits of anxiety and avoidance, of believing that now is too pressing of a problem for me to possibly have to think about later too. The hardest thing about the jaw PT is not the physical exercises. It is believing that this sensation I've lived with for years-- managed, worked through and around, gotten used to, gotten to think of as part of myself-- that it can and will change.
Speaking of which, a financial follow up: Slightly fewer than the predicted 10% of you sent me money to help offset the cost of ButtonDown, but those who did were very generous. I ended up with $1087-- $500 of which came from my personal angel investor, ML. Thanks, dude.
Not from me, but related to the above and worth a listen is the podcast Classy with Jonathan Menjivar. The pilot, in particular, tackles the questions of "can you be a "good" rich person?" and also "why is that a thing people are so obsessed with being?" in a way I found fascinating.
I wrote the LA Times Books newsletter this week! It includes a mini-essay about how much I like the Festival of Books as well as an interview with (extremely smart) local bookseller Mads Gobbo.
I'm also moderating a Festival panel in April. It's called Magical Realms and Family Sagas in Young Adult Fiction, and it is free and open to the public.
Meanwhile, On the Bleachers keeps on keeping on, We just published an interview with Harvard professor Stephanie Burt, who, you might have heard, is teaching a class on Taylor Swift this semester. (My book GRACE AND THE FEVER is on the syllabus, an honor and a thrill!)
I'm also still publishing regularly over at Descript's Creator HQ, doing a series called How They Made It, where I interview independent podcasters about how to make creative work and also money. Ideally at the same time.