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I’m going to talk about something I was always taught by my parents not to.
Money.
“Eurgh”, right?
Look – a string of bad decisions have led to where I’m at financially, I am 100 per cent aware of the fact that it’s no one’s fault but my own. So I’m going to tell my story, because I know I am not the only person out there who doesn’t posses the willpower to stop themselves from spending, and I know there aren’t many others who would feel comfortable sharing their own stories for fear of judgement.
*DISCLAIMER* this is not a “help me, I’m poor” type of story, by the way.
I know I’m incredibly lucky to be in the position I’m in now, and that I’ve had people who have been able to help me. I am NOT seeking any form of sympathy.
But anyway, here goes:
I’ve had a spending problem for as long as I can remember.
School tried. My parents tried. Bank tellers tried. But I just couldn’t grasp the concept of saving.
When I landed my first casual job at 15 (I was a Subway sandwich artist) I was delighted to have my own income to play with.
Every payday I’d head to Diva to stock up on cheap chintzy rings and all manner of slogan T-shirts from Jay Jays (so cringe).