My Parable of Debt Management

Throughout my entire adulthood, the draw of credit cards gradually dragged me into a deep, dark ocean trench.

It was subtle at first, as I wandered from the sandy beach's edge and made a few purchases on a credit card that was far too easy to obtain. I got my feet wet, and it seemed harmless -- even a little thrilling. I knew intuitively that a gigantic, swirling ocean was out there; however, as long as I could see the beach, I would be okay. I ventured further out, accumulating debt but assuming that as long as I could see the houses dotted behind the shifting dunes, someone could still see me, wade into the water, and pull me back to safety. I made larger purchases, visiting England a couple of times and paid for a cross-country trip to Idaho (for a new job) entirely on credit cards. In fact, my parents even threw a life line out to me, providing me an interest-free loan to pay off one of the cards. I did that but my spending habits did not change, and I still tacked on debt to other credit cards.

Then a ferocious wave crashed over me, and I felt a rapid tug pulling me out to sea, much like a rip current. At first, I tried to swim back to land. It was exhausting because I'd stop putting new charges on the credit cards, but high interest rates were an issue; plus I still made unnecessary purchases on my debit card. It reached the point that all I could see were some distant mountains far behind the beach homes -- were they mountains? Or storm clouds?

I was pulled under. I could still make out the light shimmering upon the water's surface. As long as I could see that light, perhaps I'd be alright. It meant I could still rush up and get some air. So I did that, exploring further down into a cavernous trench, then I'd swim back up and take a few breaths. This continued until I ventured so far down into that trench that I couldn't see the light above. What was up, and which way was down? This was right around the time that my car broke down. My father helped pay for the cost to repair it, but I couldn't trust the car any longer. I couldn't afford to buy a new car or even a used car. The situation seemed hopeless.  

At that time, I heard a voice coming from somewhere (actually a co-worker) call out some words offering me a realistic method of escape. It wouldn't be easy, but if I entered into a Debt Management Plan (DMP), I had a good shot of getting back to the surface and ultimately to land again. Through Money Management International, I spoke with a financial counselor. We reviewed all of my assets, debts, income, and monthly spending. She was able to outline a plan to manage the debt. She did the easy work, consulting with my credit card companies to greatly reduce interest rates and tweak minimum payments. It was up to me to take on the difficult, lengthy task of finding alternative sources of income and cutting costs. I switched to a cell phone company called Ting in which I paid only for what I used each month (and received credits by referring others, making it free for about two years); I'm still saving money this way. The biggest thing though was cutting all of my credit cards and closing all of those accounts except one to maintain some credit history.  

I stayed true to the Debt Management Plan, and I eventually buoyed to the ocean surface. I could breathe again! As time went on, I gained the strength to start swimming toward the beach again. Every arm stroke I took became easier. An increasing energy surged through me, and I even could add to my monthly payments. The journey to land seemed as though it was quickening -- it was, because the interest based upon the dropping principle balances was also getting reduced. That meant more of my payments was going to the principle balances. It wasn't fun, though, and sometimes it felt like I'd never reach land. The nights would test my patience. This was taking forever! But what other choice did I have than to continue swimming? A glimmer of light from a distant lighthouse gave me the drive to push forward. Each night, that light would become a hint larger. My patience would be rewarded.

Graphic of credit card debt since August 2000

It has been 18 years since I first obtained a credit card. And it has been 52 months since I entered into the Debt Management Plan with MMI. As I write this story, I can now tell you that I am standing upon my own two feet again. I can feel the sand between my toes -- it's a wonderful feeling. This month, I'm making my final payment toward the credit card debt. The. Final. Payment!  

And I realize there are people gathered on the beach that are delighted to know that I made it out of that deep, dark ocean trench. They supported me and cheered me on during this journey back. Thank you, friends. Thank you, colleagues. Thank you to my parents.

I should feel ecstatic. While I am relieved, I also know that a new journey awaits me. I know it's time to be a responsible adult and mark a personal path ahead. Having financial freedom means that I need to save up money for furniture that I've never been able to afford myself. Having financial freedom means outlining a plan for the future. Most importantly, having financial freedom means that I can finally pursue new career options. I have to do that -- NOW.

The journey never really ends. But at least I can make it on my own, upon stable ground. I will sometimes look back at that vast ocean. I will occasionally dip my feet in the water because you have to make a few purchases every now and then in order to maintain a good credit score and have credit history. Dipping your feet in the water is fine -- even healthy -- as long as you can dry them off quickly.

Gut Feelings: Adhesions Suck

In the past, I've written a series of blog posts about 'gut feelings' - specifically, topics relevant to intestinal issues, whether it's my own experience or books I've read that I felt would be good for others to read.  You can read any of my posts on this blog by searching through the gut feelings topic (or clicking on this link).

Typically, I stay upbeat in my posts.  But I'm feeling the need to write this post as a matter of personal therapy and document a new emotional struggle that has knocked me down hard.  Reality dictates that we can't be positive all the time.  I know I'm not alone in this process, so it's best to share.

Recently on Saturday, April 18, 2015, I woke up in the morning with some abdominal cramps that felt regrettably like the symptoms of a bowel obstruction.  I was supposed to head out that day for a long weekend vacation to Maine, but alas that was not to be.  As the day progressed, I became increasingly nauseated and vomited several times.  I drank some water in an attempt to stay hydrated but it wouldn't stay in my system and came back up within an hour.  I realized I was getting dehydrated.  

And I thought, "Screw this.  I don't want to go to the hospital."  I sat around in my apartment, tired from the pain, and tried to take a nap.  "Maybe it'll go away on its own."  It wasn't.  Through some convincing from my uncle and mother over the phone, I finally got in my car and drove to the hospital about twenty minutes away.

I was grateful that I had a short wait in the emergency room, and within two hours I already had seen a doctor and received painkillers and anti-nausea medication.  I've learned from past experience to immediately explain to the ER staff that I have a history of bowel obstructions because it's better to rule it out promptly (or more likely, rule it as the problem) instead of wasting time considering other causes.

The doctor ordered a CT scan, and the scan revealed some back-up and considerable distension in my intestines.  The likely suspect this time: small bowel obstruction caused by adhesions (to be defined momentarily).  They admitted me into the hospital and I stayed for three nights.  I got the standard treatment: IV fluids, and no eating or drinking for at least a day.  An NG tube (nasogastric tube) that is inserted through the nose into the stomach was not required this time around, which was a small victory.  I've always needed it in the past but this time I didn't.  Throughout the hospital stay, I gradually upgraded to a clear liquids diet, then to a "low-residue diet," which is similar to a low fiber diet with some additional stipulations.  No surgery required.  On the morning of Tuesday, April 21, I was released from the hospital.  It will take me a few days to physically recover.

This was my third hospital stay since 2000 for bowel obstructions, not including two other stays for diverticulitis and pancreatitis in the past four years.  I thought I figured out the foods to avoid and the right diet to ward off obstructions.  This time around, I couldn't pinpoint a reason that I had control over that caused this obstruction.  

Though I knew it intellectually, I guess I never really grasped the concept that bowel obstructions caused by abdominal adhesions cannot be prevented with a certain diet or exercise.  Adhesions are essentially scars formed due to any number of reasons (past surgeries, inflammation, and other medical conditions).  According to a 1990 study, 93% of people who previously had abdominal surgery later developed adhesions.  Adhesions may generally be harmless, but they can also wrap around the intestines or adhere the intestines to other organs or the abdominal wall.  When this happens, it can result in an obstruction -- which almost always requires medical intervention (sometimes surgery, sometimes not).  While treatments have been under development to deter adhesions from forming after surgery (such as chemical sprays), there's no way to definitively stop them from occurring for the time being (hopefully one day, there will be).

This all leads to my main point of this blog post: Adhesions suck.  Royally.  Because you can't do a damn thing about them.  Doctors can surgically remove them, but then that surgery will leave more adhesions in its wake.  It's a never-ending cycle.   

After the last few days in the hospital, I have to admit that I'm physically, emotionally, and spiritually drained.  I'm resigned to the fact that I will inevitably be hospitalized again in the future for bowel obstructions -- they may even increase in occurrence over time.  Pun intended, this scares the shit out of me.  To have knowledge that you will face specific sufferings in the future and you can't do a thing about it is a heavy burden.  I feel helpless with this knowledge now, and it's going to weigh on me for a while.  It's a matter of wondering what the hell I do now.  I have to move on, face the fact that this struggle will never end, and focus on the people, activities, and things that I love.  But that's hard to do at the moment.  I'd really like to just avoid all of my responsibilities right now and just have fun -- that's not realistic, of course.

Life has punched me in the gut, knocked me to the floor, and I'm currently down.  The referee is counting to ten, and I just want to stay where I am.  I don't want to get up and face more of the punches.

Adhesions suck.  

I'm better than this, and I will rise above these feelings.  I've got to ensure that the aspects of my life that I do have control over are happy, thriving ones.  That means some major life changes to better my situation.  But this is an emotional and existential challenge that I'm going to need to deal with first.  For now, I can only send out my thoughts and feelings in this blog.

Financial Debt and Wellbeing

Financial debt, particularly in the form of credit card debt, can deeply affect your personal self-worth.  That has been my experience, at least.  But this is ultimately a positive story to tell.

When I turned 18 years old and entered college in 1997, at a time when credit card companies were permitted to set up tables across college campuses and offer their plastic cards at low interest rates AND a free t-shirt (!) when you open an account, I fell victim to that scene.  Except that's not quite true.  I was not a victim.  I could logically work it out in my head that every penny and dollar that I spent using a credit card was not free money spent.  I knew I would owe it all back eventually plus interest.  However, each credit card transaction felt like a minor event.  I'd think, "When I graduate and make lots of money, I'll easily pay this back."  Hundreds (probably thousands) of credit card transactions added up and gradually weighed me down.

I carried out this poor financial plan of instant gratification and delayed punishment for fourteen years.  During graduate school I took it to a new level when I took out $16,000 in student loans, mistakenly believing it was a necessary action to stay afloat as a poor graduate student.  It wasn't necessary.  I simply didn't want to face the truth that I needed to live within my means.  I wanted to spend money on material possessions (many of which I eventually threw away but still had the debt associated with them) and fun vacations.  Even when I got a "real job" after graduate school, I maintained my bad habits.  I'd try to validate my spending routine with excuses: "Maybe I'll inherit lots of money one day" or "I can stop spending so much whenever I want" or "I always make the minimum payments, so what's the harm?"

By September 2011, I had accumulated over $38,000 in credit card debt.  Major car trouble that year finally triggered a financial existential crisis.  I am incredibly lucky to have parents who could help me out, and I was able to get a used car from my father.  I am thankful for this advantage I had.  I know that most don't have that safety net.  That crisis opened my eyes to my real situation: I was weighed down by debt - financially and emotionally.  I felt ashamed.  When I dated other people, I knew I'd eventually have to mention my debt.  I'd see people my age get married or buy a new car or make a down payment on a home with their savings, with few if any worries.  I'd wish I could be like them.

It was a depressing experience, literally.  Feeling that shame for years, even when it was below the surface, made me feel like I had little worth.  It inhibited my career plans.  It inhibited my relationships.  It inhibited my sense of pride.

But then I was given sound advice when I sat down with my friend and coworker Amanda.  She suggested a debt management plan through Money Management International (MMI).  She knew someone else that did it, and it worked for them.  It was the first advice I had heard from anyone that seemed to make any sense.  I talked it over with my mother, and she reminded me that it wouldn't be easy.  I'd actually have to budget my money and use only what I had in my bank account.  I'd have to throw away all of my credit cards.  ALL of them.  No "emergency" credit card on the side.  "Emergencies" are slippery things you can easily create out of thin air.  When I called the financial counselor with MMI, she helped me come up with a plan. It'd take about four and a half years at most to pay off all of the credit card debt.  MMI works with the credit card companies to reduce your interest rates and modify your minimum monthly payments.

Here's what my situation looked like - I have no shame in explaining it now, and perhaps if you're reading this, it might help you by seeing what MMI was able to do for me.

Credit Card     Balance     APR       APR Reduced     Monthly Minimum Payment
                                                                                    Old                      New
#1                    $3,459      10.24%   (no reduction)     $65                      $82
#2                    $2,666      13.24%   6%                      $57                      $65
#3                    $17,992    22.99%   9.9%                   $550                    $419
#4                    $4,370      19.99%   6.99%                 $91                      $92
#5                    $9,716      9.9%       3%                      $177                    $202

As you can see, MMI was able to significantly reduce the annual interest rates for four of the five credit cards.  Some monthly minimum payments went up; some went down.  The total monthly payments were lower with the new plan.  It was a plan customized to meet my budgetary needs. MMI charged me a $30 monthly administrative fee, but that has been a small price to pay.  My financial counselor suggested requesting an income-sensitive based payment plan for my student loan; since that interest rate was so low (just 3%), it made sense to make lower payments to that so that I could make higher payments to the higher interest credit cards.  MMI closed four of my five credit card accounts, but left one open so I could maintain a credit history.  But I wasn't permitted to use that card.  The MMI plan was financially smart, and it forced me to stick to it by signing an agreement.  I could back out of the agreement at any time, but all of the interest rates would go back up if I did that.  Once I signed my name, I felt like I made a commitment to MMI, to the credit companies, but most importantly to myself.  Once I signed the agreement, I instantly felt relieved -- I felt GOOD.  Some weight felt lifted from my chest because this was a plan for a positive future.

I've never backed out of the plan.  I've stuck with it.  You can read my prior blog posts and see that I made sacrifices to have a budget designed to be within my means of living.  I also got creative and came up with ways to save money.  Sometimes I made additional payments when I had extra cash.  I'd occasionally work a side job to make additional money.  As my salary increased a bit, I'd distribute the salary increase directly to my credit card payments through MMI.  With my tax refunds, I'd designate a portion of it for payments.  I'd also put aside money in a savings account for those true emergencies.  My credit score has risen dramatically throughout this time.

It actually hasn't been too difficult to stick to this plan.  At times, I'd feel down, wishing I had more money to spend.  But I never considered backing out because I knew I'd be hurting myself.

In January 2015, I paid off my first credit card.  Now this month (February 2015), I paid off the second credit card.  Presently, my credit card debt is under $9,000 (which is $29,000 less than what it was in September 2011).  By November 2015 (probably sooner), the remaining three credit card accounts will be whittled down to zero.  At that time I'll be able to focus on paying off my student loan.  Most importantly, I'll be able to start building a financial future.

This is the year when I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.  It is invigorating.  I can visualize a near-future where I can control my destiny through my career, relationships, and overall well-being.  And perhaps this can serve as an opportunity to help someone else who is in financial distress and needs that push, motivation, or advice to make a plan for a positive future.