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.