Addiction

 

Addiction

If I’m being honest I don’t think I enjoyed my time in Stockholm as much as I could have.  I have a distinct memory of sitting outside at a table on a busy, beautiful street and pouting.  Why?  Because it was that part of the trip.  When everything feels like it costs too much money, and you can’t stop thinking about your bank account.  And my glass of cabernet sauvignon was like 160 kronner, which is roughly fifteen euro, and that felt like way too much.

I think that in America we are addicted to money.  I know that sounds crazy to say.  How can you be addicted to something that you need?  Something that sustains you?  That would be like being addicted to breathing air.  But bear with me.

I think about money all of the time.  How much I’m making.  How I could make even more.  How I might better take advantage of my circumstances.  Who might be taking advantage of me.  It is an ever present, intrusive thought.  Not a day goes by when I don’t think about money; when I don’t worry about money. There’s a movie I like in which the main character says “when I was ten, I was an aristorcrat.  I rode around in the back of taxis and all I could think about was art and literature.  Now I’m thirty, and all I can think about is money.”  Me too.  Well not the thirty part.  Close.  Ish.

And I know how hypocritical this all sounds.  Because I am writing this blog about my time in Europe, and I take my kids to Disney, and there are so many other people that have it harder than I do.  I have immense privilege.  That’s a fair criticism.  But doesn’t that also highlight the extent of the problem?  Even people who have a lot of money never have enough money?  Even if we didn’t go to Europe or go on vacation; even if we ate every meal at home and bought the cheapest of everything, what savings would that amount to?  A couple extra months worth of cushion?  Maybe?  Someone else posted something to the effect of “Almost every person in America under fifty is six bad months away from being homeless.  Virtually nobody in America is six good months away from being a millionaire.”

It’s not that way in Finland.  People don’t seem as pervasively consumed with money.  They have the things that they need.  They do fun things and enjoy life.  They don’t seem to agonize over every cent.  Because they don’t need to.  And as a visitor it made me feel a little bit like an alien.  One thought I had when I was excited about all of the cool stuff in Finnish libraries was “I wonder how often people just steal this stuff.  Like it wouldn’t work in America because people would take the really nice stuff and would never return it.”  I don’t really think that happens.  I think most Finnish people would be confused by the thought that anyone would steal something from the library.  Why would they?  They already can use the stuff.  It’s for everyone.  I mean, I like beer.  When I walk into a bar my first impulse isn’t “how can I steal everyone else’s beer and drink it myself.”  If I thought that, it would be pretty obvious I had a serious problem right?  So why do we normalize and celebrate American businessmen who dedicate their lives to making sure they have more money than everyone else?  Even if people do steal from Finnish libraries (which I am sure occasionally happens) I don’t think Finns care that much.  Because they don’t base their personal and professional worth on having more than everyone else does.

It’s odd that we Americans are this way.  Because we are told so many cautionary tales about money.  That it can’t buy happiness.  That we can’t take it with us.  That no amount of money ever bought a second worth of time.  Mo’ money, mo’ problems.  Some people think the bible identifies money as the root of all evil.  It doesn’t actually.  Its warning is far more prescient:  It is the love of money that is the root of all evil.  I think that’s important.

Because our love of money – our addiction to money – is killing us.  Money problems are one of the leading causes of marital problems and divorce, and also one of the leading causes of suicide.  Money ranks as one of the chief stressors in the lives of almost every American.  People stay in jobs that they hate because they can’t afford to leave.  Women stay in abusive marriages and family relationships because they can’t afford to leave. 

And the harms aren’t only individual but social as well.  We aren’t taking care of our people.  We aren’t taking care of our children.  Nearly one in every eight kids goes to bed hungry each night and unsure of where their next meal will come from.  Our schools are failing.  We are exhausting our natural resources.  We are poisoning our planet.  And every time someone proposes to try to fix any of our problems what do people say in opposition?  Is it that they have competing ideas?  Or that they have evidence we don’t actually need to fix the problems?  No.  It’s always the same:  “That will cost too much.”  “Yeah, but how will we pay for it.”  Money.  We love money so much that many people – people who I used to think of as good people; maybe some people reading this blog – just elected a convicted criminal, adjudicated rapist, authoritarian who is obviously mentally unwell to lead the country.  Why?  Because he promised he would save you a little bit of money.  (Spoiler alert, he won’t.  He will actually probably make it worse).  We are killing ourselves, and each other, and our children, and our world just to try to get one more hit of money.  And if you replace the word money with drugs or alcohol or sex we would obviously recognize it as an addition and a deadly one at that.

But in America we have no choice.  We have to be addicted to money.  Because we’ve set up a high stakes game where either you win at being addicted or you lose.  You’re either addicted to money, or you don’t get to take your kids on vacation, and you have to work two jobs, and you fight every day of your life to just exist.  And if you can’t do that, then your family suffers.  If you’re bad enough, you lose your house and your food and your teeth.  A little bit worse and you just die. 

Unfortunately, I am pretty good at nursing my addiction.  My kids have a house, and their teeth. Well actually they are missing a few of them right now, but that’s age appropriate and sort of dilutes my point, so just stick with me, you know what I mean.  I can take them on vacation.  I get to exist.  And the price is that I’m miserable.  All the time.  I always order the cheapest meal at the restaurant; always fix things myself and do it poorly and give myself a headache; I do more with less and wear out my body and my spirit.  And I sit on a beautiful Stockholm street glowering and pouting and missing all of the beauty because I wish my wine was two euro cheaper so I’d have two less worries tomorrow.  Money. 

I’m so goddamned tired of being addicted to money.  I’m so tired of living in a country where you have to be addicted to money.  Where your happiness is always tied to the temporary high of money; where the hangover from our addition is persistent and deadly.

I don’t want to be addicted to money anymore.  I’d rather be addicted to munkki.

Hei Hei