I LIKE MONEY: On being Peniaphobic and the Joy of earning.
Sometime last year, I wrote about how I discovered I have a phobia. To think that I once bragged about not having a phobia. Here I am fingers shaking and heart palpitating from the thought of being poor. I do dread being broke. once my account balance begins to show me a certain figure I have mentally pinned as my minimum broke rate (MBR), the panic attacks begin.
I honestly can’t recall when this phobia started, I can only remember that as a young girl, I watched my mother deprive herself of the things she would have loved to do just to help another family member who probably cares less about her well being. I watched her pinch her money and I detested it. I watched how I would have to say a subtle prayer beneath my breath before I ask of anything from my mother- for fear that I might receive a NO with all the resounding speech on how “things are hard” that she could muster. It made me grow up not asking for things, even the important ones like ladies hygiene essentials. I would often reuse people’s old and worn-out underwear. Watching my mother, I swore to myself never to be broke, and never to be in a situation where I cannot afford the things I want or need at times. I made peace with the fact that I like money and money is a very strong motivation for me to work unlike what various motivational speakers and religious leaders would say concerning money and the importance of you not making money the source of your joy. Unbeknownst to them, Money brings me a kind of joy I would never want to deny.
Because I had sworn to myself to never be broke, I started working at age 15. Working was and is my get out of jail card. I know if I work, I would get paid. Albeit, this has not often been the case, I derive joy in working and that sometimes augment for the joy of money I have. Thing is, I do not consider myself as a frivolous spender. I am rather frugal than frivolous. I only splurge on necessities like vacations, charity, a few shopping once I gain or lose a few pounds of body weight; gifts for loved ones and bills(which cannot be considered as a splurge). My fear of being broke has led me to save aggressively and until 2020, It worked for me.
During the pandemic, I lost my means of livelihood and it has been a daunting task to get back into the workforce. It’s not that I do not have the degrees to back up my job search or that I am ill experienced, it just seems like the universe is playing a fast one on me and I have no zeal to fight.
Due to my lack of income, I have found myself going into the sunken place of being fearful of being broke. I am even ashamed to speak to anyone about it as I fear the response would be; “ don’t let money control you. It’s just money, it cannot give you joy. etc”. I am ashamed to tell people I love the joy of being able to afford something I want or need without batting an eyelid, the joy of spending on the other things that bring me happiness, like going on a vacation with the girls or just balling on a budget without over calculating the money I would need to live out an experience. The joy of meeting a need or solving a financial hurdle without fear of not having it for the next day; the joy of not micro-managing my savings and the joy of saving with the assurance that I would not have to touch my savings. Contrary to social and popular demands, I like money, not to the point of obsession but to the point of admiration for how it can bring peace of mind just by having it legitimately.
I have experienced what it feels like to have enough (not plenty) and I have experienced what life feels like not having at all. I have come to conclude that not having the financial means to take care of myself scares me almost to the point of death and I would rather continue to like money than live with the feeling being peniaphobic leaves me with.
