I got some mail today telling me that an old credit card of mine (with a zero balance that I haven’t used in ages) got closed because I have too much debt and stuff in collections. Some of that was news to me, and some of it I was just in denial about.
I went online and found out that the stuff in collections is a $330 medical bill from when I was in the hospital. I might be able to take care of that.
And then the debt: I was sure my balance on one credit card was $2,500. No, it was $7,500. Now, how such a discrepancy could occur is blatantly beyond me. But who cares? Money! Let me have it! Let me have it now so I can spend it!
I have a spending problem. I also have a gambling problem. It might not be my fault. Abilify, one of my antipsychotics, causes an intense urge to gamble. You can’t make this stuff up. And no, I can’t go off Abilify. Tried it, went crazy. That was summer of 2019. I made a very sincere and concerted effort to quit taking it.
I think it might be a manageable side effect. Looking over my financial issues, I decided to just hand my monthly stipend to my dad, let him pay my credit cards from it, and he can keep the rest because I owe him a fortune. He can also give me one credit card for groceries that I come home and return to him. (And no, you can’t buy lottery tickets with a credit card, so that’s good.)
Ashley Leia, what do you think? Should I try to manage it as a side effect or talk to Dr. Phlegm about switching drugs? All thoughts welcome. If anyone else wants to chime in, feel free–Ashley Leia’s our regular pharmaceutical expert. Oooh, I could talk to a pharmacist, too, but since I already know it’s a side effect, I’m not sure what else I could be told.
I’ll have to delete my credit card numbers online through Amazon and PayPal.
I’m doing all this to myself. My dad thinks it sounds like an ordeal. He’d rather I just become better with money. I told him that wasn’t doable. He doesn’t even know about my love of playing the ponies. He only knows about my love of scratch-offs. I… don’t want to disappoint him. But once I get everything off my banking sites, I won’t be able to play the ponies. That will make me sad.
It feels like a relief, honestly. Like, thank God. And the less I spend on groceries, the more he’ll be repaid directly. He’ll have to fund the dog food, vet bills, and possibly my psychiatry sessions, which are $130 every two months or so. Quite honestly, I don’t think Dr. Phlegm’s being paid enough.
So he agreed and told me to write him a check for $850 next month. How do I tell him I’ve already borrowed $310 from next month’s income? Ugh. I think I’m in the painful throes of a financial crisis. BUT, if I can sell this expensive sewing machine of my late grandmother’s for $800, I’ll be in the clear, and then some. Here’s hoping. I’ve got it listed on eBay.
My dad said, “What if you need new clothes?”
I said, “I don’t need any clothes.”
And he muttered, “That’s for sure.” [Eyeroll.]
I’m upset with my lifestyle mistakes pertaining to money and weight. I expect more from myself and feel disappointed that I tend to flake out and space out and make bad decisions, one after another. I just need to try harder.
If I had money, which I don’t, I’d get my piano tuned to preserve its quality, and I’d buy new eyeglasses. My current pair has a smucked-up lens because I’ve had this pair for around five years.