Why I'm living beyond my means

It's a compulsion, but is it money well spent?

I transfer out of my savings every day, and it will only be what I directly need it for. Like a €5 coffee, or a €75 suitcase. One’s a luxury, the other a necessity.

I always grimace and usually have nightmares about it, too. It’s this cross between denial and complete awareness. I don’t know why I do it. There are probably gentler ways to expose myself to my emptying pockets, but I’m not that kind of problem solver; I’m more of a problem spender.

“Another glass?” “The sun is out…”

“Do I need this bag?” “You’re always carrying things…”

”Are the chocolate sprinkles necessary?” “But, we should make the mousse pretty...”

It’s ridiculous this spending. I should be stressed. And I am.

For some reason, I would rather buy a chocolate I don’t need than deprive myself of the sensation of it melting on my tongue. And I’d rather max my credit card on a flight than remain spinning out in the same place where a steady income is more accessible.

The resulting anxiety is cyclical, and ridiculous. I cried about my financial anxieties by a French canal with my sister, before saying “sangria?” to a friend on a beach in Lisbon a week later. It’s a constant push and pull between fulfilling my present-day desires while maintaining monetary sanity.

As the dollars tick down, the thought of money consumes me. Yet I watch myself stubbornly refuse to make it easier and choose not to work from Australia. Losing jobs because of my remoteness, I decide to live off the relief of having articles commissioned instead. I know the self-induced see-saw I put myself on. And annoyingly, I don’t want to get off.

I often avoid thinking too far in the future, that is, where the realities of my actions live. They become a tomorrow problem, until tomorrow arrives, and I crash down. My intuition wounded, I’m governed by worry. To exit these spirals, I reassure myself with the idea that, if it makes me feel good, I must. I never want to miss my chance with good, especially when good feels so fleeting.

So, yes, I’ll order the sushi platter to eat on the couch. Yes, we’ll get the bottle and probably another. And yes, I’ll fly to Lisbon so my friend can fry me schnitzel and summon a prosperous tarot spread.

I’m spending my money on reachable euphorias. I’ll probably cry about it later, I just need something now to take the edge off.