I never thought we were poor, though. It's not like anybody ever pulled me aside and said, "Your family doesn't have very much money so you are less than a person." But thinking back, it does account for a lot of the ribbing I got as a kid. I never attributed it to being poor, though. I just thought there was something wrong with me.
I maintain that the only reason that I didn't end up as knocked up white trash is that I was smart. My test scores were all in line. And my brain opened so many doors for me that would have otherwise remained closed. I have a lot of appreciation for this.
But like so many other things, that's just backstory. Again. The real thing I want to talk about is this: How my poverty-stricken upbringing has affcted my adult conceptions of money and economics.
I know some girls that have dozens of pairs of shoes. They don't think there's anything wrong with that. I think I have four pairs. Two are in regular rotation, one I bought 50% off for a job interview and the fourth were a pair of dress shoes I've had since I was 16.
I have two jackets: one windbreaker and one winter coat. I've had the windbreaker for 4-5 years. I got the coat 2 years ago. Some people buy new coats every year. In my world, you buy one good coat and make it last for a couple years.
Do you get the picture? Probably not yet. I'm suddenly making all of this money. And I'm still viewing the world through poverty-colored glasses. I don't have any new furniture. (Except for this sweet table I just bought - but it was 30% off.) I haven't bought new clothes in over a year. Sure, I'll pick up a shirt here and there. But mostly my wardrobe is the same.
I saw this bed at the place where I bought the table, Oak Express. It's a $490 bed. I know I can afford the bed. The bed could be mine. I'd probably have to finance the mattress and box springs for it, but it wouldn't take me too long to pay those off. But I'm hedging back and forth about whether or not I can BUY this bed. Even though I want it. And I can afford it.
I guess I have to accept that the deprivation mentality must end. I am a fairly affluent member of the middle class. But I'm only 22 years old. The shrill cries of poverty are still echoing through my brain. And I'm not quite sure what to do about that.