I grew up poor. Poor like if my grandparents hadn’t provided us a house to live in, we would have been homeless. Poor like food insecure, poor like one school uniform to last the entire year.
And it sucked. There was nothing cute or quaint about it. It was eating pasta for months on end, never going to the dentist, and having a constantly stressed out mother that cried at the drop of a hat and screamed into her pillow at night because she couldn’t provide me the things she wanted to. It was misery, for both of us.
I swore I would do better for my kids, and I mostly have. We have had a few rough moments, but they have always had health insurance, toys for Christmas, and food in the fridge. Even if a lot of that went on credit cards.
When I graduated with an MA in Legal Studies when my kids were still babies, I was sure I’d be a lawyer by the time they were the ages they are now. Life intervened, and instead of a law degree, I got a divorce, a lay off, and a falling apart 110 year old house that constantly needs repairs I can’t afford. I have worked at animal shelters, as a dog walker, and at Starbucks to make ends meet. (None of which I regret, by the way. They were all wonderful experiences, surrounded by amazing people, and I made some lifelong friends in those jobs. But $10 an hour doesn’t pay the bills.)
Three years ago, I finally found a job/career that I really enjoy, working in higher education, and I have started to plow through the bureaucracy and move up. My salary had almost doubled in three years.
And let me tell you what. I am happier.
I am happier not having to charge groceries on a credit card. I am happier being able to afford guitar lessons for my son and travel soccer for my daughter. I am happier being able to say yes to dinner at Panera Bread, instead of going home and making .55 cent a box mac and cheese for them. I am so much damn happier being able to buy tickets to summer concerts for us all, and drop my dog off at daycare for the day instead of knowing he’s sitting home in a crate while we’re gone. I am so so so much happier being able to have a little fun in life and not worry that we’ll run out of food before the next paycheck, and take care of the people I love in the way that they deserve.
No, money in and of itself doesn’t make people happier. But the things that money can do — create security, adventure, and experiences — those things DO make people happier. And it doesn’t do poor people any favors to keep telling them that they can be happy without money. Yeah, we know that. Because part of being poor is finding every possible way to wring happiness out of the most mundane situations. Because that’s how people stay sane, and forge ahead, and don’t give up.
Yes, poor people have fun. Yes, they have moments of great joy and happiness. But telling them that money won’t make them happier, that money won’t facilitate the kind of life they want, is bullshit. And they know it.
Every parent wants to give their children all the opportunities life has to offer. Having the means to give your kids music lessons and sports and trips to interesting places, that is what we all want. You can be happy without those things, sure, but it’s way better with them. The sense of fulfillment I get when listening to my daughter play piano, knowing I was able to give her an opportunity to learn an instrument, an opportunity I never got because of financial constraints…it is the most wonderful feeling in the world.
My mom, the one who cried into her pillow every night, the one who screamed and yelled and sobbed all the time when I was little because of the stress of trying to keep us afloat…she’s in her 70’s now and still working. She has no retirement. She has student loan debt, from an ill advised MA degree she got in her 50’s, and she has tons of credit card debt. She has no long term job prospects. She will probably be working freelance and gig jobs until she physically can’t anymore.
That’s not happiness. Retirement, money to enjoy trips and grandkids, a nice house that’s in good nick, that’s happiness in your 70’s. Not working until you die just to keep food on the table.
I don’t want my life to end up like that. I don’t want debt to crush me. That’s why, even with the upward trajectory of my career, I am looking for a second job. I want to pay down my debt, and improve our lives at the same time. I want to give us the best opportunities to be as successful and secure as possible. And if that requires me to work a little more and a little harder, then I will. Money makes our — not extravagant — lives happier.
Some people are going to blast me for this. Will say it’s consumer culture, that I’m buying into the end stage capitalism bullshit, and that life doesn’t have to be fueled by money. I want to agree with them. I’m a socialist at heart. I’m voting for Bernie. I’m all about taking care of each other and making sure we all have what we need.
But we do live in a society where money matters. That’s just how it is. And more of it = more opportunities. Not to consume, not to have STUFF, but to have experiences, to have adventures, to learn. Money brings music, art, and theatre into our lives. It allows me to expand my children’s palates and cook interesting food for dinner. It provides knowledge, in the form of extra educational activities, new books, magazine subscriptions.
Money also buys me peace of mind. I don’t have to be terrified every time the car needs work or the dog needs a vet visit. I lived like that for a long time, and it wears you down. It’s exhausting to always be sure the next tiny little bump in the road will be the thing that sends you spiraling into financial ruin. Money brings a good night’s sleep. It allows you to live life without constant fear of the unknown.
So don’t tell me money doesn’t buy happiness. Don’t tell poor people that they don’t need it to be happy. They know that. They also know that money would make life a lot easier, a lot less stressful, and opens doors to the world that couldn’t be opened without it.
