Dysfunctional Loot Relationship

It's been a while since I felt that desperate, painful, junkie feeling of despair and desperation.  It's dismal when there's nothing left to hold onto and the craving to check out is immensely powerful and takes priority over everything else.  I can recall the days living in the W. Village in the mid-90s, cranked out and tweaked out, living with a guy on a futon in the living room of a small one bedroom railroad apartment so I could be close to a 'supply' and have a roof with a working air conditioner.  In those days, my life was devoid of reality, love or serenity, and I was pretty much broke and very broken.

In those blocked out countless junkie days, my life was constantly spiraling further and further out of control.  My only anchor was my ability to hustle.  I'm a very good hustler.  No matter how devoid of cash I was, I was always able to get just enough to have what I needed to stay up.

In those days, my idea of essentials and needs included cigarettes, a few cool clothes, crank, vinyl, guest list and hustling to make even more money to continue to afford a nighttime clublife lifestyle in a land of fantasy in the underbelly of New York City's downtown.  In this world, I was an expert and knew my way around.

My hustling skills continued to improve.  I clawed my way up, and starved for more money in the same way I needed a bigger fix of the illicits.  Money would line my pockets in fat rolls, organized neatly with all the heads facing up and in numerical bill order.

When I stored thousands of dollars in that Victoria's Secret box hidden in my suitcase, the money was neatly bundled and organized, I knew exactly what I had and how it was stashed.  As long as the box was full, I was at ease. 

In the years that followed, I hustled my way towards a legitimate life, hustling PR job after PR job, trying to shirk my shady reputation and become 'the best person I can be'.  I remember when I was offered a job at a real PR agency for $70K/yr, wow... legally making $70K.  I had plans, moving it around, not blowing it on tons of clothing and crap... keeping some in a safety net and with that... I was at ease. 


On Sept 10th, 2001 I was making $250K.  We had a nice apartment, some new Ikea furniture, money in savings, and I was at ease.  On September 11th, that all went away, and I was in panic and distress.  This is the feeling I'm speaking of, that fear that I won't have what I need, food, shelter, and that tucked away stash to keep me at ease.

FF..... more than a decade later.

These days, I make less than I made when I first graduated from college.  I'm very cool with that.  As I've aged, I've come to terms with the fact that the hustle doesn't make me happy anymore, and neither does the large sums that can't buy me what is really important in life.... LOVE. 

I've simplified our lives, we live in a little cabin, I don't shop for anything but food, gas, books and toys.  Don't have a smart phone or a new iPod.  I barely wear make up or worry about appearances in that way I did in my publicity diva days.  We need very little to have a lot.  We live in the mountains.  I spend my money on activities like snowboarding, surfing and travel.  And I do it all for not just me but for me and my son.  All of the money is not for 'I' but for 'US'.

My fragile financial situation took a serious nosedive last month, I found myself with NO income at all.  And I was NOT at ease anymore.  Money is an attachment and security blanket I need in order to be equanimous.  When I turned my computer on and found that my income was totally halted, my balance shifted.  My serenity raped.  Flustered I spent days scrambling for work, any work, anything to bring in money to obliterate my panic.

Like the junkie days, I found myself scrambling online to find work, any work.  The situation was humbling and humiliating.  My survival instincts to make sure we had enough kicked in hard.  I was prepared to do just about anything to make sure we were going to have 'enough'.  

Fear of Financial Insecurity is my Mara**.  When my economic situation wanes, my peaceful serenity is obliterated by my immense fear and panic.  It's just like I felt back in the old days tweaking for more junk.  I tweak for more money.

The question is, is there any way around it?  Can I exist peacefully with nothing to line my pockets?  Well, I sure didn't try to this past month.  I've been a basket case, emotional disaster, craving a way to check out of my skull and numb myself to the painful cravings to have my accounts be at that 'right' amount so that I am comfortable, and so I feel at ease.

It's all relative, the modicum of money I need to pad our savings these days feels just like the money in the Victoria's Secret shoe box of yesteryear, even though the amounts are drastically different, their significance is still very much the same.  

I definitely have a dysfunctional relationship to money.  I grew up in home where there was plenty of it, multiple houses, mercedes, club memberships and the best of everything.  Then, by the time I was in college, it was all gone and I had to learn to scramble and make it for myself.  I have done a lot to shed my need for being financially wealthy.  Sure, I envy friends I grew up with who have so much more than me materially.

Tonight... on my drive home, I stopped at the farm stand.  In my ragged tank top, short skirt and rain boots.   I picked out a few local fruits, veggies and cheeses amongst the NYC Trendoid Weekenders in their Prada Flip Flops making an attempt to look hipster 'country'.  I used to be them, craving to get out for a weekend in 'the Country'.  I chatted with the cashier, put my things in my reuseable shopping bags, and mindfully walked through the puddles in the parking lot to my car.  Inhaling the sticky humid summer air, feeling the light breeze on my cheek, noticing the stars overhead, I took my time to enjoy the experience as a New Yorker escaping the city.  But I don't have to escape!  I live right here, where they all want to visit.

Enough is such a scary idea, what is enough.  For me, enough is more than food, gas and bills.  Enough is experience, love and peaceful home.  I've worked my ass off to get where I am today.  Money is just money, it comes and goes.  I give way to much power to something so meaningless.

I have much to explore about needing money to be at ease.  I don't think I fully have a solution to this one yet. 

** Mara is the demon who bothered the Buddha throughout his life.  Like the devil sitting on your shoulder telling you to do bad things.