I was always the type of person who blithely believed that money didn’t matter. My parents insisted many times that I should do what made me happy, without consideration of how much money I would earn.
Follow your bliss, they taught me, and the money will follow. If you do what you love, you’ll be great at it, and if you’re great, people will pay you for it.
An acquaintance of mine during my freshman year told me that he was a business major because “that’s where the money is.”
I was immediately bored with the idea. I couldn’t fathom the idea of devoting your life to something just because you might get rich from it.
I was going after what made me happy, but wouldn’t necessarily earn me anything: I’d declared a major in writing with a minor in music. Lucrative stuff.
But things have changed since I was that snobby freshman who thought that anyone who cared about money was shallow and narrow-minded.
Last year, within the span of one month, I bought my first car and got my own cell phone plan. Where I’d once had no bills to pay, I was now responsible for a car payment, a phone bill and insurance each month, as well as putting gas in my car.
This fall, I moved off campus into my own apartment, where I am now responsible for gas, electric, Internet and cable bills, plus I have to buy groceries.
All this, I do on a budget of maybe $600 a month.
I’m not the first college student to struggle financially, and compared to many, I’m doing okay. But what has changed the most, aside from the dollars in my bank account, is my mindset.
Money is important now. Crucial.
No wonder I used to turn my nose up to anyone who aspired to wealth—it had never been an issue while I was growing up. My family wasn’t rich, but they provided everything for me.
Money wasn’t a problem because I never had to think about it.
Yes, there are those who go after the money because they truly believe that money will make them happy.
But there are also those who want to have a lot of money simply because they never have, and because it’s been the cause of a lot of struggle throughout their lives.
These days, money takes up a good deal of my thinking and planning time.
Can I afford some bagged salad to go with my pasta? Can I wait to pay this bill until I get paid on Friday? Is there anything I can put into savings this month?
I am not destitute. With two supportive parents, I know that if I ever ran completely out of money, someone would be there to take care of me.
But now, having had to budget my money nearly to the dollar on more than one occasion, I understand—and have adopted—the mindset that money does make an enormous difference.
Yes, I’d like to make enough money so that I could occasionally buy steak and not have to worry about it.
I’d like to invest in some heavy winter boots so that my feet aren’t damp halfway through a long, cold day.
I’d love to own a car that I can count on to start when I turn the key. And I haven’t even mentioned the things I’d like to do once I have a real career: travel, buy a house, spend money on theater tickets or classy dinners, without breaking the bank.
I still believe in following my bliss and doing what makes me happy, but I also know now that I won’t be able to live the way I want to live without a solid amount of cash.
All my life I have had the opportunity to travel and to see great things, while still being provided with enough food and clothes to keep me healthy and happy. None of that would have been possible without my family working hard and earning money.
So: I get it. I get the allure of the big bucks now.
In a way, at least. I don’t plan on ever being a billionaire, spending my days on my private island trying to decide what kind of marble to accent my mansion with.
But I do aspire to a life free of financial worry.
And to those who have sought wealth their whole lives: I think I understand you a bit better now, too.
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