safety net

tomorrow is pay day.

today is the eve of my departure at the help desk I’ve called “work” for the past 11 months.

I have a lot on my mind. I’ve actually started and scrapped about three other potential blog postings already and as of this very moment it is 8:54 AM (EST).

the real problem is I am anticipating tomorrow’s posting. But today is too soon. I can’t jump it in the queue, I’m waiting on one more event to happen, one I must attend, and then I can write it. And so the timing is just not right.

but back to today.

I’ve been stressing a lot about money. My last two posts have focused on it, and this one will be no exception.

I have received my graduation gift. It was a considerable amount of money. This is a mixed blessing.

how can receiving a considerable amount of cash be considered a “mixed blessing,” Haleigh?

because the last time I was handed a considerable amount of money, I spent 3 years spending it all while still bringing in additional income, in the most irresponsible ways imaginable. I was 18 then. I had no job when it ran dry at the age of 21. But it didn’t matter, because I was still bouncing in the safety net of my parents and the playground that is the American university system.

this is the final safety net. I recognize that. But I do not trust myself to handle this money with sound decision making and rationale.

so what does this mean…

time to pay a visit to Lover #3.

ugh. Nothing else is going to get me to start taking my money seriously again like his recipe for brutal honesty served in a bed pan with a side of harsh honesty. The night we broke up he spent a collective 4 hours dissecting every aspect of my failures as a girlfriend in our relationship. It was exhausting, but nothing he said was necessarily wrong, nor entirely one-sided. So I trust his judgment and I trust his job competency to give me the help I need. What I don’t have much faith in is his ability to act professional and sit down and speak with me in lieu of retreating to the back room for the duration of my visit. That being said:

I’m not talking to anyone else about this.

he was the one who got me to start budgeting in the first place. I only stopped when I met Joe Millionaire; he awoke the Halethorpe of poor financial decision making, and it’s time to put her back to sleep. Lover #3 can do that.

I need all the help I can get, though, because this considerable amount of money is considerably less money than what was handed to me almost 4 years ago, and half of it is already spoken for. I have my work cut out for me here. Outside of two more meager paychecks, I’m not entirely sure when I’ll get paid again, which is a scary position to be in when you’re about to set out all on your own into the big bad world and have the financial behavior history of a 16 year old with a trust fund.

there’s no more safety net, Haleigh. Get it right this time.

somehow I am convinced that when I step into my beautiful new apartment on May 1, I’ll feel the compulsion.

the compulsion to purchase.

I have one glimmer of hope.


I would rather my apartment sit empty than be full of furniture I don’t like, those trigger-happy purchases to simply fill the space.


it won’t be that way. And so it’s not the big purchases that worry me. It’s the little ones. Really, the same ones that have been dragging me down, dragging me back onto my line of credit time and time again. Pesky beers and tequila shots. (I should stop buying patron, I puke no matter what I drink, anyways.) Those recurring monthly subscriptions. Taco Bell (I love you so much, but you hurt my wallet so badly). Kitchen gadgets. Etc.

but there is something I love about the idea of setting my one and only big girl purchase up on the living room floor (my 28″ Samsung SmartTV), leaning against the soft yellow walls with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s (that I will get someone else to buy for me), and watching the Netflix that I don’t pay for in my brand new, empty apartment in complete solitude, knowing that I’m working on saving the money to find the perfect sofa, the perfect bed spread, the perfect breakfast bar stools. That’s just peaceful to me.

until then, I’ll be visiting my ex at the bank.








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