A report published last week established that one in five young British women are in debt ‘all the time’, and nearly 40% struggle to make wages last until the end of the month*. This made me feel young, and not in a good way. Recently, I realised – for the first time in a long time – I wasn’t making enough money. I’d done my VAT return (the worst thing about being a freelance writer is not the deadlines, or the pressure, the staring at a blank screen with no idea how to fill it; it’s not the creative risks, the public vulnerabilities… it’s the admin), which meant I’d spent quality time with my bank statements. Which was how I realised – for various reasons, none of them serious or fiscally terminal, all of which had accumulated anyway – I hadn’t earned enough dosh. More money had gone out of my accounts than had gone in, the buffer of cash I keep for tax had been depleted, ergo I must have a stern chat with myself about tightening my belt, which is Gucci, yes: I bought it in a more lucrative era (February).
I have never been rich. I mean, obvs, these things are relative, but I’m not sure anyone would look at my bank balance, even at its best, and go: ‘You must let me tell you about investment opportunities in my tech start-up!’ What I have had, for a while – ever since the abject brokeness of my early twenties abated with regular paid work – is enough money; where ‘enough money’ = never waking up at 3am feeling sick about it, never freaking out because you’d forgotten an incoming bill, being able to at least try to clothes shop yourself happy on your saddest/maddest days, even though you know it never works, et cetera.
Having ‘enough money’ has been lovely; but – for the time being, at least – it seems that I do not.
So: time to kerb some excesses, get myself back on track, which is within my power, lucky me. I’m buying less, hustling more, and it’s fine. Doable. Sure, there’s the minor dent to the ego to contend with, because success always means earning more than you did before, right: but honestly? The only really bad bit is giving up on the casual, everyday generosity ‘enough’ money allows. The never even thinking about how many more times you get the Uber, or coffees, or leave the tip. I am newly, painfully aware of who among my friends, family, colleagues flourishes the payment app on their phone most easily, readily, and first, and who never quite gets round to it. Oh, I loved being the ‘No, really… I’ll get this!’ girl. I truly did.
READ MORE: 'I Earn 40k And Live At Home, But I Still Need My Parents To Bail Me Out Each Month'