Low Balance Alert

C.R.E.A.M...has reached the specified low balance threshold. Coffee reflections on money

I’ve been receiving low balance alerts, weekly, on my checking accounts for about 2-3 months now. Part of coming into this iteration of my life, is realizing how much adults that I interact with daily, actually make their lives off credit and access to credit and not money in the bank. I’m attempting to calm my nerves with this coffee reflection, because I’ve been wrecking myself with the expectation of I have to have money in the bank in order to “do” the things I want and “live” my life.

I’ve been operating off of credit this summer and it’s one of the two times in my adulthood I can remember being able to. Right after college, I racked up stupid ass retail credit card debt when I had a “big girl” job. Then all of a sudden I didn’t have that job, then I worked for myself . Then, I moved because the love of my life, was not the love of my life. Then, I started trying to move on. Then I wanted to buy a house because they were doing special things in Atlanta for low-income folks, so I became obsessed with fixing my credit and the story goes in loops from there that I don’t have the brain to explain. Well actually, let me back track a bit.

I am triggered by debt. After being laid off in 2014 and becoming an independent contractor/self-employed, I was mortified by the concept of credit. Yea, you know, borrowing money when one doesn’t have it in a lump sum to pay. When I got laid off, I didn’t even know where the money would come from for me to pay back the credit card debt I had amassed. Something about me: Borrowing money, let alone asking for it because I need it is a sticky ass dignity/self-respect/pride thing for me. I’ve been this way since my big sis Andretta told me as a teenager “Don’t ever let no nigga or nobody think they own you or pressure you cause they gave you something”. I miss you Dretta, rest in heaven.

Never-the-less. In the uncertainty that is living gig to gig through erotic labor, contracts, consulting, teaching, soloprenuership and all the other things I’ve done to try to make income for myself, there have been chances for more stability. But, I don’t exaggerate when I say that every opportunity that arose for me to go back to “big girl” employment, they all fell through. It’s like, whenever I looked back to the life I thought I wanted for myself the shit just turned to salt. So credit for the beginning part of adulthood for me has never been a viable, let alone desirable option; until this summer.

There is a way I want to live my life, without stressing myself out. Without trying to keep up with my peers or put on this air of wealth, “Black Girl Luxury” or whatever the fucking aesthetic is. I do like nice things (Taurus Venus here, duh!) but I’m also very cool about how everything I have is put together and experienced.

There are things I want to do. I want to dance. I want to dance MY ASS OFF. I want to teach. I want to travel. Most of all, I want to CREATE. and this summer PayPal credit stared me in the face and was like… do you trust you? And not in the sense of do I trust that I can pay it all back. It asked me do I trust that by the generosity of God, that regardless of what happens that I’ll be okay. Talk about scaring the hoes— bitch I was shook; but I was like fuck it. Let’s go.

Low on many things right now, but one thing I’m not low on is heart. Not just my own but the fact that I’ve built a solid gang of people around me that love me. That when trouble comes, as it often does. When the debts are high and the funds are low that they’ll help me see it through with my dignity in tact. Forgive our debts as we forgive our debtors. Fuck all the very real weights of resentment, anger, vengeance or self-pity that not having enough often puts on us. I know it’s cliche, but it all ebbs and flows. Cash may rule everything around me, but it don’t rule me.