Value for Value

Another saying papa has is that we give ourselves a message with the way we treat money—in a very real way, money is time, or if you like, bits of life as you experience it. When we consistently give things away, when we accept too little pay or do not seek to obtain something of value for our lives, we have sent ourselves a message: we aren’t worth much.

I have to be honest. This sort of message always makes me uncomfortable. I’ve seen people do some real fucked up things in the pursuit of money, from relatives stripping my great aunt’s house around her as soon as she couldn’t fight back, to relationship ending fights over inheritance. I’ve tried to give my inheritance, a set of silverware, back because I was so disgusted at my cousins, siblings, accusing each other of having sold it at the funeral.

And yet, he has a point. My day job is quite comfortable, in terms of paycheck. I spend… far more of it than I should on other people, as a gesture of love and support. It’s not uncommon for me to be flat broke between paychecks, and to have people still knocking on my door whining about something they could afford for themselves, but won’t buy because I’ve shared these things before and they want to keep their money.

For my part, having been truly hungry (and homeless and completely destitute)—and by truly hungry, I mean my hair was falling out and my teeth were loose from malnutrition—I am always hesitant to inflict hardship on other people. I’ve always felt like life is quite good at handing us opportunities for personal growth without any help from me.

His rather pointed observation is that I am cheating myself, the people I’m helping, and sending myself a message.

He’s not wrong. I do not like the message I’ve been sending myself.

Value is anything and many things. A dear friend made the observation that I should be starting conversations with the standby “ass, grass, or cash.”

Crass, but applicable.