LETTING GO OF MY DEBT SHAME

I'M GENERALLY NOT ASHAMED TO talk about personal matters. In fact, I'm known for oversharing.

- Jamie Feldman

 

At parties, I'm always good for a few cringey anecdotes plucked from my lackluster dating life. As a writer, I've never shied away from sharing the vulnerable, sometimes ugly, side of my evolving relationship with self-worth. Even my earliest report cards mention my garrulous nature: "Jamie Feldman: Talks too much." But there's one topic that I've kept quiet for as long as I could remember: money or in recent years, the lack of it.

I've maintained a fluctuating level of credit-card debt for over a decade. At its highest, it hovered around $18,000. From that first moment in my hopeful early 20s when I felt the shiny piece of plastic in my hands, I was hooked. Now this, I thought, was freedom. I recklessly opened card after card, blatantly ignoring interest rates, skating by on minimum payments, and maintaining a hefty balance at all times.

Growing up, there wasn't a whole lot of talk about money in my house. There was just a general sense there was never really enough of it. As a result, I have, for the majority of my adult life, maintained a pretty precarious balancing act of living both in a scarcity mindset and way beyond my means. I've gone through periods of unflinchingly forking my credit card over at a $100-perperson group dinner, then spent the following weeks living off of ramen and tinned fish. I've thrown caution to the wind and booked trips because "I deserve it!" then spent hours spiraling at the sight of my bank account, if I wasn't too afraid to even check my bank account, that is. I also naively assumed I was the only one with this kind of debt. The only explanation I could fathom for this mindset was deep, internalized shame.