Little Green Revelation

Anyone who’s ever lost weight knows that the “maintenance” phase is the hardest part. Getting out of debt and pursuing life-long frugality is no different. Just as dieting is not deferred eating, frugality is not deferred spending. I read posts all of the time from folks who have managed to chip away at some of their debt, only to find themselves maxing out their credit cards again or having to deal with a life emergency without an adequate emergency fund. (I’m not judging – it’s a hard slog for so many people.) Although I’ve ridden the weight loss roller coaster for much of my life, I have managed to stay relatively fit and trim in the debt department. There have been a few times in my life where I gained a little extra debt fluff due to poor spending choices, emergencies, or large but necessary purchases. But I’ve always been successful at paying down my debts in a timely fashion. I’ve also been incredibly lucky in that I’ve been able to hold down jobs for the entirety of my adult life, lucky enough to receive a little parental support when I needed it most, and I haven’t faced spending emergencies that amounted to more than a few thousand dollars. I have been diligent and cautious, but I have also been very lucky.

Truth be told, my financial success story is super boring. I have had full-time employment since I graduated from college. Thanks to scholarships and assistantships, I managed to escape nine years of higher education with a only a small amount of student loan and credit card debt. Although I’ve had brief periods of slightly higher spending since I got a “real job,” my average monthly spending is only a few hundred dollars a month more than when I was a teaching assistant making $20,000 a year. As a spender, I’ve never really yo-yo dieted, and I’ve never had to live on a subsistence budget in order to pay down my debt. Although I got extremely lucky in the student loan department, I’ve also never lived so extravagantly than reeling in my lifestyle felt like a huge sacrifice. What’s my point? Well, when your life is already reasonably frugal and you don’t have any debt emergencies hanging over your head, it makes it very challenging to say to yourself, “I need to do better.”

An Uncertain Time

Rather than optimism for the future, what is currently driving me to save more aggressively is endless ennui and crushing anxiety. Some people are feeling very optimistic about the next 4-8 years, but I’m not one of them. Mr. G works in manufacturing, but in the renewable energy sector. I work in higher education, and rely on federal science funding. I also work with a number of research groups that receive funding from the DOE – funding that is at serious risk under the new administration. I work with dozens of international students who face uncertainty about the J1 Visa program, in addition to heightened concerns about their personal safety in a country that is increasingly embracing isolationist and white nationalist attitudes. I’m scared, to say the least. I also have big existential concerns about what the civil rights landscape will look like in 4 years, what automation means for the future of the economy, and what climate changes means for the future of our planet. Ya know, the usual Monday morning worries.

Add to this our seemingly more trivial but as yet unresolved House Question. Just this week, The House Question presented us with a whole new set of uncertainties that may mean another several months (or years) of indecisiveness. So, dear reader, we are stuck. We are stuck, stuck, stuck in a land of anxiety, indecision and inaction. But, as I joked on Twitter last month, the plus side of being paralyzed by indecision is that you never spend any money – no houses, furniture, renovations or vacations. So, for better or worse, my anxiety is now fueling my “why.” I’ve decided to channel my angst into a self-imposed spending austerity that will fund our future goals (or future unemployment), assuming we are finally able to make some decisions in the next year (or the next administration decides to purge all scientists who disagree with their agenda).

Preparing For Something

Sorry if I sound a bit like an alarmist crazy person in that last section, but the fact of the matter is that I currently feel like an alarmist crazy person. Talking to my friends in academia or federal agencies or national labs just makes me feel more unsettled. So, the first step in my paralysis-induced self-austerity is to increase my cash emergency fund. My really boring goal for 2017 is to have about 12 months of emergency savings at current monthly spending rate.

Since I’m now debt-free, I am able to throw any windfalls, side hustle cash, or tax returns towards my 12-month emergency fund. I’m already about 1/3 of the way there with what was my original 3-4 month e-fund. Once I am finished, my next goals will be to fund a bigger down payment for our next house, or to open a taxable investment account.

Working Towards Clarity

I have a lot of unresolvable questions floating around in my head right now and, unfortunately, the only thing that will bring clarity to many of these questions is time. So, we wait. I’ve also entered “FI maintenance mode,” which feels very uninspiring. On Twitter I mentioned how when I initially discovered FI, I decided that it would be the next “hobby” I would throw myself into. But just like the running thing and the weight loss thing and the many hobbies that came before it, pursuing FI has started to get boring and feel like a slog. I am no longer invigorated by the blog posts of my fellow frugal weirdos, and I don’t have a clear idea of our FI timeline or goals. What is the point of living a frugal lifestyle if I’m having any fun? How is it fulfilling to save for a future that seems so uncertain?

My post-election Season of Ennui is preventing me from achieving any clarity on my “big picture” goals, since optimism and emotional fortitude are not particularly abundant in my life right now. The House Question has too many variables for the time being, and I don’t have the emotional energy to cope with the big picture. So, for now, my answer to my anxiety is to hunker down and save.

Assuming I am being rather alarmist about the next few years, I still think it is a reasonable goal to pursue an über frugal year. If we buy a new house this year – great! My self-imposed austerity just means a bigger down payment or more money for improvements. If shit hits the fan – not great, but at least we’ll be (more) prepared. My decision-making abilities are stuck in neutral at the moment, but that doesn’t mean our path won’t clearer a few months from now. Once we’re finally able to make some decisions, we’ll have the added advantage of having a little more cash on hand to fund them.

Finding Motivation

When I saw the Frugalwoods post last week about embarking together on an über-frugal January, I was initially inspired to participate and then completely terrified about what I was throwing myself into. I’ve also done Drynuary for the last three or four years, and combining an über-frugal month with a dry month sounded a really terrible idea. (It doesn’t help that I have a stressful work project that doesn’t end until mid-January, and stress eating fast food IS MY JAM.) But I want to do it. I already don’t feel like buying much these days, and I could definitely be eating out less and drinking less alcohol. At the very least, it seems I am determined to get my least-favorite month of the year out of the way so my usual least favorite month, February, feels like a cakewalk in comparison.

For me, 2017 seems foreboding at best and catastrophic at worst. I’m going to save as much as I can, and do as much good as I can. I’m going to try to seek clarity and make decisions. I’m going to keep doing science, and be a safe harbor for my students who are facing persecution. I’m going to speak out against injustices and try not to get arrested. Ya know, the usual hopes and dreams for a new year.

Are you anxious about 2017? How are you coping?

First, let me get it out of the way – in case you want to boycott me as well – as a Millennial woman with a doctoral degree in the sciences who works at a university, it’s probably unsurprising that I did not vote for our president-elect. I’m hardly  alone in pondering the consequences of this election – I have questions on everything from how will this affect my friends’ healthcare plans to how to counter the wave of hate crimes and intimidation in my own community to whether or not Congressional Republicans will slash federal research funding, which I rely on for my work. This isn’t a post about the election so much as it is about how everyone is responding to it, particularly with their shopping habits. More specifically, as a fans of frugality and mindful spending, how can we approach being consumers when seemingly every dollar is politicized?

Boycott Whiplash

If you’re on social media, it seems like there is a new company to boycott every day, with both sides occasionally boycotting the same business at different times for different reasons. For example, several years ago Target was on the receiving end of a great deal of backlash after it was discovered that they donated to an anti-gay rights candidate in Minnesota. More recently, Target has spurned boycotts from several other groups, due to their support of bathroom access for transgender individuals. Chick-Fil-A has been a long-time boycott favorite for their financial backing of anti-LGBT causes, and although their support ceased and their stance changed way back in 2012, they are still boycotted by a great number of individuals who aren’t aware of that (or don’t care). Since the election, I’ve seen lengthy lists of companies to boycott, since at some point someone from that company allegedly supported or “normalized” President-Elect Trump. Last week, I saw a huge push for Trump supporters to buy New Balance shoes (some styles are made in the USA) after the CEO praised Trump’s opposition to the TPP, immediately followed by a wave of anti-New Balance sentiments and shoe-burnings after some white nationalist leaders announced it would be their movement’s footwear of choice. On the flip side, Penzey’s Spices came out vehemently against Trump and is facing both a backlash from Trump supporters and a wave of support from anti-Trump individuals. It’s dizzying, to say the least.

Vote With Your Dollars

There has always been a push for consumers to “vote with their dollars,” whether that be supporting American manufacturing, local businesses, or companies that outwardly support a living wage or environmental causes. These are admirable goals, but it’s damn near impossible to make certain that every single purchase aligns with some set of pre-determined values that you have established for yourself. Even if you’re Berkeley’s most adept car-free, dumpster-diving fruitarian, your lifestyle probably depends on fossil fuels and low-paid workers in some capacity.

Buying local is great – but I can’t get a locally grown bell pepper in the Midwest for 9 months out of the year, and no non-chain businesses in my town are going to sell me a new TV. And in a small-ish town like mine, I’ve probably bought stuff from local businesses where the owners supported a political candidate that I opposed. But does that really matter? Should it always matter? At the end of the day, should I buy something from Amazon (who’s labor practices among its programmers and warehouse workers are shady, at best), or would I rather buy from a local merchant with opposing political views, who still supports local charities and town festivals? To me, the answer is pretty obvious.

That being said, there are places in my community where I purposefully don’t shop, because I don’t agree with their business practices or political stances. I’m certainly not alone, but I don’t make a big deal out of it on social media, and I try not to be petty. For example, I won’t shop at a pet store that gets puppies from commercial breeders, and I don’t shop at Hobby Lobby because of their vocal opposition to covering contraception for their employees. Thankfully, I have other local options where I don’t mind spending my money. Some people don’t care about these issues, and some people do care but shop there anyways because they feel the alternatives are not as good. Regardless, I’m not going to judge you for your craft store choices. (Although I may judge you for some of your purchases, because Hobby Lobby is tacky crap central. ? )

Don’t Vote At All

There is, of course, the other admirable goal of rarely (or never) buying anything at all. Maybe you are pursuing this track because it will help you reach other goals such as paying off debt or saving for retirement, or maybe you’ve decided to become a minimalist. As the Frugalwoods recently wrote, not buying things has the added advantage of freeing you from having to make a ton of decisions about a purchase, especially when your actual goal is to buy as little new stuff as possible. It’s truly a blessing to receive a hand-me-down or find a piece of curb furniture that fulfills a need in your life. Although the item may not be perfect, it’s probably good enough, and it was free. By seeking out free and used items, there’s a lot less concern to be had over whether or not spending money on that item aligns with your broader moral imperative.

Bartering and Sharing

We all probably have micro sharing economies amongst our families or groups of friends – baby stuff handed down over the years, pet sitting exchanged for pet sitting, baby sitting for baby sitting, help with the harvest and you can take home some of the extra, help us move and we’ll feed you dinner. Although most of the things in my personal sharing economy tend to focus on services, there’s nothing stopping you from more actively bartering for goods and services in your community, especially among really small local vendors like vegetable farmers or craftspeople. My only gripe with bartering is that when people attempt to barter with me for hand-knit items, they severely underestimate the time and materials costs associated with their request. So, my advice here is to approach bartering from a place of curiosity and humility, and be willing to adjust your trade accordingly.

Outside of my group of friends, there are other ways to be engaged with the sharing economy in my community. Our local Buy Nothing Group is just getting off the ground, and one thing I didn’t realize before I joined was that it’s not just a platform for giving away free stuff. The group also encourages its members to build lending libraries for tools, books, speciality kitchen gear, etc. Borrowing from your neighbors is a great way to support your goal of not buying stuff, while at the same time building community (assuming you return the item in good condition!).

Be Mindful, Be Realistic

My frugal friends definitely tend to be more mindful about their purchases – not just how much they’re spending, but if they really need the item, how the item is sourced or grown, and if the item is built to last. And that’s great, but it’s obviously maddening to think about the moral implications of every dollar you spend. I’m not in favor of petty boycotts against every company to ever say something nice about our President-Elect, but I’m also not in favor of spending a bunch of money at a company because they said something I agree with. I’ll buy things when I need them, and I’ll do the research if I really care about what it means to spend $5 on anti-Trump cinnamon or $150 on anti-TPP shoes. Do I need shoes? Do I need cinnamon? What if I already have a preferred cinnamon vendor who has not voiced an opinion about the election? Can’t a woman just buy her damn cinnamon and get on with her Christmas baking in peace? 

So my goal for this holiday season is to do my research when it matters, but also to stay a little above the fray. I plan on making gifts when possible, and purchasing a few items from companies and local businesses that I trust and respect. I plan on giving experience gifts and donations to local groups that are doing good in my community. I can’t afford organic butter for all of my cookies, but I’ll try to buy fair-trade chocolate whenever possible. I’m sticking with my apolitical cinnamon vendor (a local spice shop), because they have good cinnamon, and they’re nice. Maybe these things seem trivial, but it’s all a part of my goal to spend my money mindfully year-round.

When I was a graduate student, my monthly ritual on the Friday after payday was to go to Target, restock my household necessities, and then treat myself to a few items from the dollar section or home goods section. After Target, I’d probably go out to eat and then go home and watch Gilmore Girls. (Thrilling, I know.) A decade later, I can see that my monthly treat-yo-self sessions just added to cheap clutter in my home, and that they were also a waste of money. However, I also completely empathize with my 2006 self. In 2006, I was making $20,000 a year and I had just gotten out of a really bad relationship. I was working 60+ hours a week on a fruitless research project, and I didn’t even have weekends off, let alone actual vacation time. The light at the end of the tunnel, my PhD, was at least 3 years down the line. If I were to travel back in time and tell 2006 me, “stop wasting money on stupid stuff! If you can save $100 every month, you’ll be able to afford a trip to (a place that is not your laboratory) at the end of the year!” I think 2006 me would have laughed and laughed and laughed and then probably cried.

Sure, 2006 me was in a little bit of credit card debt and really, really needed a new computer for her research. Yes, 2006 me had to call her mom and ask for a couple of hundred dollars so she could afford to eat when she traveled to a research conference. And, yep, 2006 me was sleeping on an air mattress on the floor because she could not afford a new bed for a few months after her ex moved out. These situations illuminate that 2006 me definitely could have done better with what little money she did have. But 2006 me was just barely holding her head above water, and giving serious thought to her budgetary situation wasn’t very high on her list of priorities.

When Treat-Yo-Self is All You Got

Of course, we have all heard about the “latte factor” time and time again. For some, it’s not coffee stops, but rather app purchases, books, trinkets, lunches out, clothes – the list goes on. There are so many little things we can spend our money on that don’t actually add happiness to our lives. And these things can certainly add up to big dollars over the years, and hamper our larger financial goals. But looking back at my life ten years ago, I feel like these small indulgences were one of the few things that enabled me to deal with the insane levels of bullshit I was experiencing. For better or for worse, shopping helped me cope.

When I was a kid – shopping was something my mother and I did on a Saturday afternoon, and even then I seriously enjoyed the hunt for an awesome clearance rack deal. As an adult, it was an extremely low stress activity that removed me from reality for a short period of time. The day after the aforementioned relationship ended, I was sitting on my friend’s driveway, bawling my eyes out, when she suggested we head to the mall in an attempt to take my mind off of things. (Admittedly, I did need a smaller pair of pants after months of stress-induced weight loss.) Could I have found the same release in running, or yoga? It’s possible, but my emotional health was in such a state that getting out of bed was challenging enough, let alone having enough motivation at the end of the day to lace up my sneakers. I have so few good memories of my first few years of grad school, but I do remember the anticipation of my monthly trip to Target, and the small glimmer of joy I would feel walking up and down the aisles. On a rare Saturday off, I’d head to the Big City and wander a shopping mall or the gourmet grocery store by myself. For whatever reason, shopping was among a handful of activities that I actually looked forward to, and it helped me retain some sense of normalcy in an otherwise turbulent year.

What Happens When the Tunnel Is Endless?

I knew that my time making $20,000 would be fairly limited – at least I hoped so! But making under $25,000 a year is the reality for almost 25% of US Households. I’m guessing many of those households will not see their incomes increase rapidly over the course of 3 years, as mine did as I transitioned from graduate student to post-doc to permanent employee. And while my parents didn’t pay for any of my education, they did provide me with a financial safety net, which prevented me from slipping further into debt during my most difficult months. While it’s true that I lived paycheck-to-paycheck for five years, I’ve never been without that security. As much as I should have been thinking about how shopping affected my bottom line, I didn’t have to obsess over every dollar I spent. I was still far above the poverty line for a household of one and I never had to worry about making rent or having food to eat. It may have felt like I was treading water – but in reality, I knew how to swim, had a life vest on, and the shore wasn’t all that far away. 

So this period of my life is what I think about every time someone tries to shame (actual) poor people for buying “junk” food with their EBT card. Or for having a refrigerator or a cell phone. I think about it every time I feel like judging a family member or friend for spending money in a way that doesn’t align with my personal priorities. I mean, why do people spend money? Sometimes we need things – food, clothing, shelter, toilet paper. But sometimes (even though minimalism tells us we shouldn’t), we buy things because they make us happy.

I think most of us who are on this FI/RE journey have had some realization that the pursuit of “stuff” isn’t going to make us happy in the long term or help us build a lasting legacy. But the point is, we’ve already had that revelation. It’s really easy to say “I don’t need to buy this junk!” when you already have a ton of junk. It’s easy to eschew the trappings of modern life when you’ve had an opportunity to be burdened by them. It’s easy to rid your house of clutter and excess when you know you could afford to replace something you decide you need later on. It’s easy to abandon shopping as a hobby when you have the means to engage in hobbies that require time, gear, and transportation options. Pursuing minimalism and financial independence can be challenging for anyone at any stage in life, but I think it’s unhelpful to scold other people for spending money on things we now judge as “frivolous.”

Finding New Avenues for Happiness

I recognize for some, shopping can become a serious addiction. And it’s true that the majority of us still probably buy way, way too much junk and produce huge amounts of waste as a result. My shopping hobby was an old habit that I found comforting during a difficult period of my life. Keeping my indulgences small meant I didn’t assume massive credit card debt pursuing my hobby. It obviously didn’t help me save money, either, but at least I grew out of this habit before it got to be very expensive. As my income has grown over the years, I’ve certainly been susceptible to lifestyle creep and hedonic adaptation. Thankfully, after stumbling into the personal finance community, I have been able to gain the self-awareness to realize that the pursuit of possessions doesn’t align with my long-term goals.

That doesn’t mean I’m immune to buying stuff – I think few of us are as disciplined as Mr. Money Mustache or The Frugalwoods. But I’m getting better. I’m still a sucker for a good clearance deal, but I try to make sure that I’m buying clothes or home items to replace something that’s worn out. I still do a fair amount of “window shopping” because my parents enjoy perusing a junk shop or a used bookstore, and it’s an enjoyable way to spend a Saturday afternoon in the winter months. What has changed is that now I can go to a flea market or a craft fair or an estate sale and be extremely discerning about the stuff I choose to bring into my home. I have a few things I loosely collect, and I’m always on the hunt for unique pieces at incredible prices. I rarely find them, so I feel ok walking away from the more ordinary or overpriced junk.

So, back to 2006. I moved on, I started healing, I kinda-sorta got my shit together, and I was able to claw my way out of the black hole of situational depression. Once my ex left, I was able to shed a lot his weird ideas about money (another post for another time), and start developing my own goals for my finances – for the first time in my adult life. I had the emotional energy to pursue more fulfilling hobbies, and my research project started working. Most significantly, I found a new group of friends who loved canoeing. Canoeing was another activity I had loved as a kid, but I didn’t have the means (boat) or transportation (car that can carry a boat) to enjoy it as an adult. Suddenly I found myself with friends that had canoes to spare, and all I had to do was chip in for beer, sandwiches, and gas. Suddenly I had more to look forward to than wandering the aisles of Target by myself – and, as it turns out, that was what I really needed.