On the 27th of June, I tried to take an Uber into Williamsburg and my card got declined. I assumed it was because I used the wrong card, but when I checked my bank account my stomach felt almost funny at first. The next few days I borrowed money and closely went through my expenses for the past month seeing where I went wrong. During the last six months, I hid three credit cards because I had wracked up a disturbing amount of debt. Something along the lines of $13,000. It’s awful just thinking about it. I had no choice, but to ask my dad for help which ended up getting me in even more trouble because whenever he would give me money, I was so addicted to shopping that I ended up using the money for evil.
My credit card debt all began around October 2018 when I ran out of my savings that I had after quitting my full time job at The New Museum. I had worked really hard to put my money away, pay off some student debt, do a little retail therapy and try and make more by putting my hand into some commercial work. It felt so good to have savings and quit my job. I felt like I had a new chance at life and a new way to fully care for myself. My spending habits quickly worsened as I felt this need to use my independence on high fashion and fine dining. What was I thinking?
It wasn’t always this way. At one point last summer I was working three jobs to make ends meet, pay off my debts and have money for clothes. I’d like to say that it was worth it, but I have extreme respect for those who work multiple jobs to make ends meet. I physically could not do it. I stopped seeing friends, lovers and never had time to sleep or eat. I just don’t understand why the world makes it so difficult for artists to pursue their dreams. Having immigrant grandparents I have that strong work ethic in me, but at what cost? Am I supposed to compromise my health to pay my rent and credit cards off? Nothing seems to make sense or be the right answer and so often it just doesn’t feel fair.