Money Talks

Any other home owners have the song Dirty Cash (money talks) on loop in their head these days? Because it’s been a long, expensive winter. January’s deep freeze was met with frozen and busted plumbing at my house (plus the news that my very old pipes could apparently combust any day.) With the leader of our country on a chaos bender, my heating bill also jumped from a few hundred dollars a month to over a thousand thanks to heating oil prices and said lingering, unrelenting cold.

Now, March and April have somehow become two of the busiest months I can remember in both my professional and personal life. A launch at work with two big events to plan (one of them international) birthdays, baby showers, funerals, and the change of seasons from winter to spring have left me feeling sort of like a cartoon character who had an anvil dropped on their head from a great height. Holding on for dear life, my house, yard, finances, social life, and sleep schedule have been… neglected to say the least. I genuinely don’t think my house has ever been messier and I find myself feeling what some might call resentment towards friends and family who have spouses or who can afford to hire help to pick up the slack when life gets the better of you. But, that’s not the reality I live in, and the reality I do live in is extremely privileged anyway.

And I think that’s where the disconnect lives for me right now. Because from the outside, my life doesn’t necessarily read as someone who is drowning in logistics and laundry and lawn care. But, as someone tackling life largely alone, I can assure you I feel very underwater over here these days. And I know I’m not alone in feeling this way.

I own a home on my own. Which, in the shorthand of the internet, often translates to: she must have help (a safety net… trust fund… something invisible doing the heavy lifting.)

But the truth is much less glossy because there isn’t a partner splitting the bills, or family money quietly absorbing the unexpected financial shocks. There’s just me, my income, and a series of choices that have made this life possible, but also, at times, incredibly heavy to carry (especially with the additional emotional burden of the world at large right now.)

I remember going to my town’s earthday celebration the spring after I moved. Many local organizations had stands, including our historical society. I wanted to introduce myself because my house is surrounded on both sides by historic home museums… I figured I’d be a good neighbor and maybe volunteer my time or offer to help during special events given my close proximity. The women running the booth immediately knew my house and expressed their curiosity over who had purchased it. They began with a series of questions including “what does your husband do?” and I immediately felt a little disheartened, quickly but politely correcting them and sharing that I’d actually bought the house on my own. I saw them exchange quick glances that I’d seen before which I’ve learned over the years to translate to one thing: “must have family money.”