A Story About Paying Off Debt and the Obstacles Along the Way

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Adjusting The Budget For Summer + Covid Times

Back in February, I shared that I'm trying a new, seasonal approach to budgeting based on our distinct spending habits throughout the year: Boring Season (January - April), when our earnings roughly equal our spending; Bonus Season (May - August), when our income exceeds expenses, thanks in large part to Fortysomething's bonuses; and Celebration Season (September - December), when we budget to accommodate two birthdays, two major holidays, and an anniversary.

I'm not sure this framework will hold up during Covid Times. First of all, we have yet to hear about bonuses, and we expect that even if they do materialize, they'll be a fraction of what they were last year. Second, my institution is now actively discussing furloughs, pay cuts, and layoffs, so will I even have a job by the end of the summer? And if I do, what will my paycheck look like? Third, I don't know what's going to happen with Fortysomething's job, either. 

But I'm making a budget anyway based on the information we have right now. We'll adjust later if we have to.

A few things to note:

(1) Our income has changed now that the Kiddo and I are on Fortysomething's health insurance plan. The damage is not as bad as I'd anticipated because the premiums are a pre-tax deduction. But still, there's less coming in. (I don't explicitly include the health insurance premium in the budget because it comes straight out of the paycheck. I also don't include retirement contributions. Yup, we're still making them.)

(2) Our rent has decreased by $50/month.

(3) We've made some adjustments to our electric bill and subscriptions. We try to limit A/C use, but we know we'll be turning it on periodically now that the weather's getting warmer (I have terrible allergies, so simply opening up the windows for some free cool air isn't always an option). $250/month is probably an overestimate, but I'm leaving some wiggle room there. We've also signed up for a few more subscriptions (e.g., Hulu, Kindle Unlimited) because we're spending more time at home.

(4) The new monthly payment for the refinanced student loan is $366. We'd like to pay more than this, but for now, we'll go with the minimum. We're prioritizing saving over debt repayment.

(5) Although we anticipate bringing in some additional money over the summer, it's hard to know how much that will be. That's why I've put a zero in the "Savings" line below. Fortysomething should (???) receive some sort of bonus at some point this summer. Furthermore, he'll be earning some extra cash through his contract gig. We plan to funnel almost all of the extra earnings into our emergency fund, with the exception of a few treats here and there.

A bit of good news for us: We were able to contribute to the emergency fund in May because our loan refinance meant that we didn't owe anything this month. Payments start back up in June.

What about you? Have you had to make any budgetary adjustments lately? How has Covid affected how you spend and save your money?

May - August Monthly Budget:

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This Is Hard

I wish I could say that I'm adjusting to this whole global pandemic thing, but that would be incorrect.

I am not. I'm not adjusting. If anything, I am becoming less adjusted as it becomes ever clearer that this virus is going to be with us for a long time, along with a tanking economy, abominable leadership, and an increasing death toll.

It's not really the virus itself or the possibility of getting sick that's causing most of my stress. It's the secondary effects of the virus, the waves it's made. For example:

Jobs. I mentioned it in my last post and won't rehash it all here, but like many people, I'm stressed about the stability of my job. Higher education wasn't in great shape before the pandemic, and now it's getting completely pummeled. The virus is taking advantage of all the cracks in the system. My institution is in the process of figuring out what and who to cut. Meanwhile, I'm absolutely terrified about my partner having to return to a classroom full of children in August.

Both of us have been applying for jobs; neither of us has heard anything.

Money. We're saving as much as we can at this point. Fortysomething is starting his annual summertime contract work, and most of those earnings will go into our emergency fund. But we've received no news about his yearly bonus, which is usually announced and set in stone in April. We rely on that extra cash, and this year, we're depending on it to help cover our health insurance premiums. I hope it shows up. If not, I hope the powers that be let us know - and soon - that it's not happening this year.

The thing is, we were feeling absolutely fantastic about our emergency fund a mere three months ago. Now it seems like peanuts.

Relationships. In Karen Thompson Walker's The Age of Miracles, which features a profound global event that bears some resemblance to this one, the protagonist notes, "Later, I would come to think of those first days as the time when we learned as a species that we had worried over the wrong things: the hole in the ozone layer, the melting of the ice caps, West Nile and swine flu and killer bees. But I guess it never is what you worry over that comes to pass in the end. The real catastrophes are always different—unimagined, unprepared for, unknown."

As a professional catastrophizer (someone please start paying me for this thing I've been doing for free my entire life), I've thought a lot about all of the bad things that could happen in the world. It's not like I wasn't aware of the possibility of a global pandemic. But what I hadn't considered - what I think a lot of people, even scientists who study these things, hadn't considered - is the isolation that comes with a new biological threat. During other types of disasters, people can lean on one another. They can visit each other. They can physically comfort one another. But with this, the only thing we know will protect us is keeping our distance from those we care about.

Worse, the confusing government response means that we don't have clear guidance on things like whether we need to wear masks outside the house, whether it's okay to hang out with someone as long as we're more than six feet apart, whether we should cancel our travel plans, whether it's safe to eat a meal outside, etc. etc. etc. And so everyone is basically making their own judgment calls, leaving a lot of room for each of us to question what others are doing. Even amongst my own friends, I see this happening. Maybe it's not an overt thing, but the differences in opinion are threatening relationships that are already under strain because of physical distancing requirements. And that's hard.

Running. All of my races have been canceled. That's a bummer, but I can handle it. What's tougher to handle is the way coronavirus has fundamentally changed how I feel about running.

For me, running has always been more about being outside and getting into a more focused headspace than it has about losing weight or looking a certain way. It's fresh air. It's freedom. It's a chance to challenge myself. For half my life, it's played a key role in my effort to maintain and improve my mental health.

But now the trails are crowded, and the people using them aren't always considerate (I'm looking at you, snot rocketers). Lacing up my shoes feels like preparing to traipse through a minefield. Running used to be my happy place. Now I'm constantly on high alert, and my brain never settles. I know not everyone sees it this way; in fact, some runners are logging more mileage than ever. But for me, this situation has put a serious dent in my trail mojo.

It's like the one thing I could always count on to get me through is no longer available.

(That said, I've started strength training again. I did a lot of weight lifting a few years ago, and while it isn't the same as running, I enjoyed it. So I'm going back to it - partly to stay in shape, partly to ensure that I get my daily dose of endorphins.)

Worrying is a mostly pointless endeavor, but it's not something I can just shut off, especially when there's so much to worry about, when there's so much death and suffering. And I get that some people are seeing the opportunities in this situation. I wish I did. I don't. I wish I had something insightful or encouraging to say. I don't.

I feel like I'm in a holding pattern, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for something to change. Waiting for the other shoe to drop (although, seriously, how many shoes can drop?!? Haven't we run out of shoes yet?)

I'm okay. I just wanted to write it out. I can't tell if other people are feeling this way. I think they are?, but it's hard to know, especially based on social media. So I'm putting it out there - partly because it's a form of catharsis, partly to let you know you're not alone if you're feeling any of this, too.
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$76K Updates

Some updates from $76K Land:

(1) Twitter

I left Twitter about a week ago, and since then, I've received several kind emails from people checking in. I haven't responded to all of them yet, but please know that I really, really appreciate the concern and encouragement.

I'm okay. I'm just over Twitter.

For years, I somehow managed to avoid the Twitter trolls. Recently, though, something's changed. As I told Abigail over at I Pick Up Pennies, I feel like I've been getting bullied more and more, even by people I've interacted with for a long time. I'm tired of it and tired of feeling as though I'm not allowed to say anything even remotely honest and/or negative (which is... most of the time, given the current situation) without people getting on my case, giving me advice I didn't ask for, lecturing me, treating me like an idiot, dismissing my feelings, telling me things I already know, or just being straight-up rude.

If I complain or push back, I'm told to toughen up. I'm told it's just part of being on social media. It's like middle school all over again, and I'm not here for it. When I share things about myself, I share who I really am. I'm not going to sugarcoat. I'm not going to censor myself and pretend to be the positive, optimistic, and non-anxious person that I'm not (especially right now) to make other people feel more comfortable. Nor am I going to try to grow thicker skin simply because much of the world has decided that bullying by fully-grown adults is something we just have to accept. (I did try restricting who can see my posts, but it was like whack-a-mole: I'd get rid of one jerk and another one would pop up a second later).

So for now, I'm out. I really miss interacting with my friends. I don't miss feeling like shit.

(2) Student Loans

In better news, we refinanced our student loan. The one we weren't planning to refinance.

Here's what happened: When the government announced that it was suspending federal student loan payments for a few months, we were super excited. We logged into Nelnet to read the details and discovered that... our loan did not qualify.

Anyway, it was the perfect incentive to finally look into refinancing. After clearing a few weird hurdles (for instance, we were told that we had to provide a picture of Fortysomething's diploma rather than his transcript, and we don't have his diploma anymore; we reached out to someone in management, and they relaxed that rule for us), we were successful.

The old loan had a 7.25% interest rate. This new loan has an interest rate of 4.0%, and the monthly minimum payment is actually a bit lower. We'll be able to pay it off in less than 10 years (hopefully much sooner than that, but there are other financial priorities to consider right now), and we'll save about $10K in interest.

So yay.

(3) Health Insurance

Thanks to the pandemic, I've ditched the short-term health insurance plan that I was on. It's just too risky and too sketchy. The Kiddo and I are now on Fortysomething's employer-sponsored plan, which isn't fantastic but offers more protection. Although the premium is hundreds of dollars more than we were paying, it's a pre-tax deduction. When the first premium hit this week, the damage wasn't as bad as I expected to be.

(4) Job Stuff

Like many people right now, we're feeling very anxious about our jobs. We're lucky in that we are both still employed. Personally, as someone in higher education, I'm feeling pretty vulnerable at the moment. So far, the administration at my institution has offered nothing but vague platitudes about working together through difficult times, but it's clear that something has got to give. Rumors are flying about layoffs and furloughs. I work in online instruction, so you'd think I'd be okay - but I wouldn't be surprised if my little part-time gig was offloaded to a full-time, tenure-track faculty member to help justify their position.

Fortysomething's job as a grade school teacher seems fairly stable at the moment, but we're both worried about him having to go back in the fall. I know not everyone is concerned about catching this virus at work, but he's around kids all day, every day. In a normal year, he gets sick at least three or four times and passes it on to the rest of the family. It's one thing when those illnesses consist of the common cold, a stomach bug, or even the flu, but coronavirus is a whole different beast. Sure, you could get it and barely notice. Or you could end up on a ventilator.

I'm not going to lie. I'm scared - for him, for me, and for our kid. I know that people want schools to reopen, and I understand why they want/need them to reopen, but it seems absolutely bananas to do so unless a comprehensive testing, monitoring, and isolation program is in place. It's not enough to provide everyone with hand sanitizer and hope things will work out. We need to protect kids, teachers, and their families. Frankly, my partner and I aren't so dedicated to education that we're willing to sacrifice our lives and finances for it. So we're exploring our options.

I'll say this: if you're a parent and you want your kid to be back in the classroom, advocate for students and teachers by reaching out to the powers that be (school board, state government, reps in Congress) to demand frequent testing. Because that's the only way this will work.
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I Quit My Job A Year Ago - And I Have No Regrets

I just wanted to briefly poke my head in for a rare non-COVID moment to acknowledge the one year anniversary of this event:
That's right: April 18 was my quitiversary! Happy Quitiversary to me!

I have no regrets at all. Not about leaving that job, anyway. Yes, our income dropped by about 40%, and yes, I lost employer-sponsored health insurance. I decided not to return to full-time work, opting instead to spend a few months walking dogs before picking up a part-time adjuncting job that is enjoyable most of the time but that is, admittedly, probably a dead end. I had to buy my own short-term health plan and it was every bit as crappy as I expected it to be. The budgeting has been tricky at times. Not knowing what's next has been stressful, and the COVID pandemic has not helped.

Still no regrets. It turns out no amount of money is worth that level of misery.

There is a part of me that has regrets and maybe a little embarrassment about my overall career path, but that feeling isn't tied specifically to the job from hell. But what can I say, other than it didn't pan out for me? It wasn't for lack of trying. I threw myself into multiple jobs, all of which I appeared to excel in, all of which left me feeling stressed out, exhausted, anxious, and desperate to escape.

What I said in my quitting post still holds true:

"The fact is, I'm not sure that full-time employment is for me. I'm not sure it was ever for me. Between my mental health constraints, my desire to do what I want to do, my hatred for unnecessary meetings, my disdain for pointless tasks, and my resentment of micromanagement, perhaps I'm not a good fit for corporate culture. I did it because I thought it was something I had to do. I did it because I was told that I was above making coffee and selling Goretex... and I believed that, because our culture has brainwashed us into thinking that some jobs are more dignified than others."

And I'm still working hard. Aside from the part-time job, I do plenty of things I don't get paid for: manage the household finances, clean, cook, help the Kiddo with schoolwork, make doctors' appointments, fix things, etc. Not to say that Fortysomething doesn't do household stuff - he does - but obviously, for both of us, there's a lot of work that doesn't bring in a paycheck.

Somehow (miraculously), we've managed to cobble things together on a reduced income. We get by on Fortysomething's full-time salary, Fortysomething's bonuses, and the part-time peanuts that I earn. Some months, we've been able to save. Some months, we've had to dip into savings. We sock away cash whenever we can and try not to feel bad when we can't. We've ultimately been able to grow our savings since I quit.

In a couple of weeks, the Kiddo and I will move onto Fortysomething's health insurance plan (we need something more reliable in the era of COVID), an expense that will translate into an extra $550 or so a month. This will make our current arrangement a little more challenging, but we can make it work through the end of the year thanks to the recent stimulus checks and the afore-mentioned bonuses.

I often wish I had a little more direction - What am I supposed to be doing with my life? What career will perfectly mesh with my experience and abilities? What am I passionate about? - but I've been sitting with those questions for a year, and I'm still not sure. Sometimes that really bothers me. Sometimes I just shrug it off, knock out a few hours at my little part-time gig, bake some bread, wash some dishes, run a few miles, watch some Survivor with the family, and call it good enough. After all, isn't the whole "your career is what gives your life meaning" spiel nothing more than emotionally-veiled capitalistic propaganda designed to encourage all of us worker bees to continue propping up the billionaires? (Not to imply that there's a problem if your work does feel meaningful - if so, that's great. But I don't think that has to be true for everybody.)
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Everything Has Changed

I wanted to write something about the COVID-19 pandemic and how it's affecting us, but until today, it's been hard to find enough motivation + brain space to make that happen. Let's see what I can put together on this incongruously sunny Sunday.

The Current Situation

As of this moment, more than 2,200 people in the United States and more than 33,000 people worldwide have died from the coronavirus. In the U.S., the shit really started to hit the fan at the beginning of March; since then, it has deteriorated drastically, in large part due to the federal government's absolutely abominable handling of the situation. I won't get into that here because my head will explode. But I will say this: I don't feel safe.

Arizona's cases have started to pick up over the past two weeks. There are now more than 900 documented cases in the state, and there have been 17 deaths, two in our county. All restaurants, gyms, movie theaters, and other gathering places are closed along with schools. We are not under shelter-in-place orders yet, but given that our local ICU is already full and the hospital has insufficient PPE, I'm guessing that may happen this week (the Republican governor is reluctant to take such measures and refuses to let mayors make the call for their own cities; don't get me started). 

Day-To-Day Self-Isolation Life

My family has been preparing for this since the end of January, when the first coronavirus patient in Arizona was identified. We were closely watching what was going on in China, and the first inklings of community spread were emerging in Europe. We're both scientists; Fortysomething is a biologist. We knew the virus would spread, and we knew it didn't care about borders. We slowly stocked up on dry goods and emergency supplies, and by mid-February, we were pretty well set. 

I began self-isolating at the end of February, and Fortysomething and the Kiddo have been doing so since school closed on March 13. We're not going out except to run (to avoid crowded trails, I've been getting up before dawn and heading out as soon as it's light enough to see the road) and bike (the Kiddo's chosen form of exercise). We were going to the grocery store every week and a half or so, but a positive experience with Instacart yesterday has us convinced we'll have our food delivered from here on out, unless Instacart shoppers decide to go on strike for the long-term. 

Day-to-day life includes work for the adults, online learning for the Kiddo, baking bread (I was doing it before, but with the Kiddo home all the time, it gets consumed more quickly these days), Zooming with my book club and other friends, watching the newest season of Survivor, working on puzzles, preparing meals, and napping. Lots of napping. I feel like I'm tired all the time.

Basically, we're lucky to be able to stay at home, so we're just trying to hunker down, not get sick, and keep out of the way. The not-getting-sick part is especially important given my shitty health insurance - another thing that I can't think too much about before losing it. That's why we're shut-ins at this point. That's why I have a hard time walking out my front door without having a panic attack.

Mostly, we're trying to take it a day at a time, something I've never been good at. Now, it's a relief to focus only on the handful of hours ahead and make them as good as possible.

Finances in the Time of COVID

Financially, we're okay at this point. We have emergency savings, though we did draw them down a bit to purchase supplies (if this doesn't qualify as an emergency, I don't know what does). Fortysomething and I both still have our jobs. I worry a little bit about my gig: I could see my employer cutting some of us adjunct instructors to save money. On the other hand, my work is in online instruction and my pay is peanuts in the grand scheme of things, so I hope I have some security? Our state has mandated that nobody can be evicted right now, so even if we did lose our jobs, we would be able to keep living here.

I'm supposed to re-up my short-term health insurance next month. We'll see how that goes. It's a terrible plan, and if the premiums increase too much, it won't make sense. But paying the $800+ to be on my partner's plan would also be a huge crunch for us.

Although I don't like to live with regrets, I now have serious regrets about signing up for the stage race in August. I mean, there was absolutely no way for me to know that this was going to happen. But man, I'd really like that $1400 to be in my bank account right now. The race, which is supposed to take place in August, hasn't been canceled yet. Surely it will be. I don't see how it will be safe for hundreds of participants to camp, eat, and run together for days on end only four months from now.

We should be receiving a stimulus check from the government in a few weeks, which will be greatly appreciated. We'll save about half of it and use the rest to support local businesses, the food bank, and the city shelter. 

In the Tornado

I wrote a few things about five weeks ago that I ended up not publishing. Re-reading them, I'm struck by how insanely different things are now. Everything has changed, and we're all going to continue living in the middle of this tornado for at least another month or two. Let's face it: most of us can't even tell which way is up. We're just trying to get through the day. We don't have time to ascertain long-term repercussions. But when the tornado is gone? We'll have to deal with the fallout. There's going to be a lot of it. 

The immediate silver lining is that my community is working together as best it can to deal with this massive challenge. I hope that the long-term silver lining will be things like the adoption of universal healthcare and living wages for hourly workers. And I hope that rich people are finally getting the message that if we don't fix our rampant systemic issues, everyone will pay the price for it.
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Why "Just Find Another Job!" Isn't As Simple As It Sounds (For Me)

This isn't even really a blog post, guys.

It's probably going to be more like two paragraphs. It's a mini reflection on anxiety and sleep.

I was thinking about something last night and then again today when I was out on my run. I was thinking about how last year, things at work got so bad that I basically stopped sleeping and fell into a vortex of insomnia that was really, really hard to escape, even after sent in my letter of resignation.

Then I remembered that the same thing had happened in my advising job and in my tenure-track teaching job. The only reason it didn't happen in my full-time online teaching job was because my boss let me come in late every day and change my schedule whenever I wanted to (and then she left and that perk ended).

I mean, I knew I'd had issues with insomnia in the past. I just hadn't connected the dots to see how prevalent this problem has been for me.

Some people can get by without sleep. I can't. Lack of sleep makes me angry, resentful, confused, and inarticulate, none of which are conducive to a positive performance at work (or a positive life in general). Sleeping pills have addressed part of the problem - namely, the falling asleep part - but leave me perpetually groggy. It is a sucky, scary, personality-altering condition.

Insomnia is a beast. Those of you who've experienced it know what I mean.

I look at/for jobs every day. I find about 2-3 jobs per week that pay a decent wage and that I'm at least somewhat qualified for. But I will admit that I'm picky even beyond those considerations because I just can't dive into yet another job that will destroy my health.

As a result, I routinely discard any job ad containing words such as "obsessed," "passionate," "driven," and "go-getter," because in my experience, those kinds of jobs are breeding grounds for my stress and anxiety. Management jobs? No. Jobs requiring frequent presentations? No. Jobs where I have to help other people through difficult situations? No, though I wish I could be effective in that sort of position.

So... I eliminate many possibilities simply because I know those gigs won't be good for my anxiety and will destroy the healthy habits I've developed over the past year. And I don't want to give up good sleep. These days, I go to bed by 10 and wake up around 6 without much issue. On the nights when something does keep me awake past midnight, I'm comforted by the knowledge that I'll have time to nap the next day.

I'm not saying this as a sob story or to make excuses. It just is what it is - a factor that requires a lot of consideration when I'm sifting through options.

It's the kind of boundary I need to set for myself, but it also feels somewhat limiting, and that can be frustrating. Because I do feel like I have more to give to meaningful work... and yes, I also really want to earn a higher income.

That's all.
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I Need A Break From PF Twitter

Around the time that I started this blog, I joined Twitter and became part of the very active personal finance community there.

At first, it was a real boon. I met other people who were going through similar experiences or who'd had similar experiences in the past. When I asked for feedback on things like debt repayment vs. investing, how to set up an IRA, or how much to keep in our emergency fund, I received invaluable advice. And when I'd post about our debt repayment victories, my new PF friends would respond with nothing but encouragement. 

As a somewhat shy introvert who often struggles with in-person interactions, this realm of social media was the perfect place to talk about the things that interested me - personal finance, yes, but also careers, our kids, etc. - and meet likeminded people at various points in their life/financial journeys. 

Overall, it was a positive place to be, and I was (and am) grateful for it.

Lately, though, the discussions and commentary in the PF Twitter community feel... not positive. I log on and see Tweets to the effect of:

People who can't afford school shouldn't take out student loans.

If you are in debt, someone else owns your future!

I can't believe how much debt people have. It's SCARY. People have NO financial literacy. They're SO irresponsible.

If you're struggling with money, you're just not trying hard enough.

If you're struggling with money, you just need to work harder. Take on a second or third side hustle.

Increasing your income is easy! Just get a new job.

I can't believe my friend bought a car/new furniture/a vacation. They can't afford it and they got mad when I told them what I thought! [Sidenote: your friends don't want your opinion on their purchases unless they ask for your opinion.]

Frugality is dumb. Just increase your income.

OMG, look at this chart of millennial net worth! This is so SAD. I have SO MUCH MORE than this because *I* planned ahead and saved.

Look at this article! This 53-year-old has no retirement fund! She is SCREWED.

Who the eff takes out a car loan. STUPID PEOPLE THAT'S WHO.

Don't be AVERAGE. Average is SAD. Be extraordinary and FIRE! 

If social media doesn't get to you - if you're immune to comparing yourself to others even when you're in what essentially amounts to a virtual room full of people telling you (directly or indirectly) that you're doing it wrong - then cool. I salute you.

I, a melty, vulnerable little snowflake, am 100 percent willing to admit that these messages do get to me. Because we do have student loans. We don't have enough retirement money. My job change has made our lives better but it doesn't pay enough. We did struggle with finances for a long time. 

Using basic logic to connect the dots, I can't help but read these Tweets and feel like I'm dumb, lazy, whiny, ungrateful, and irresponsible.

But we've put a lot of work into our finances, and we/I don't deserve to feel that way.

Our story isn't exciting enough to become personal finance clickbait, but we've made an enormous amount of progress. We're finally in the green on our net worth (and before that, we were in the red but on a positive trajectory). We have some savings. We've paid off some debt. Because I ditched a soul-sucking job with a good salary and health benefits for a no-benefits job that I actually enjoy, I no longer feel constantly depressed, anxious, and stressed out. 

And that's just us/me. Other people with debt, behind on retirement funds, and/or lacking in savings have their own stories. Maybe those stories involve poor choices made way in the past. (News flash: everyone makes poor choices sometimes. It's called being human.) Maybe they involve really expensive, unavoidable life situations. There are any number of possible reasons. You don't know. You can't know. And yet we continue to send out the message that if you're not in a good financial place, you're an idiot, plain and simple.

You can say whatever you want, of course. I'd just like to point out that if your goal is to help other people, none of the above messages are in any way motivating, uplifting, or encouraging. If your goal is to pat yourself on the back for making all the right financial choices, can't you do that without putting other people down?

Many Tweeters in the community are amazing and wonderful, but somehow it's the negative stuff that gets lodged in my brain. I've spent most of these first few weeks of 2020 with the vague sense that I'm failing, and Twitter is not helping. 

So I just need to step back, clear my head, and recalibrate. 

I'm not deleting my Twitter account. I'll be back sometime, when I get my head on straight and feel less sensitive to the commentary. And I'll still be writing on this blog. I plan to comment more on other people's blog posts because I really do like interacting with fellow money nerds. 

If we're friends and you want to connect elsewhere (Instagram [where I don't talk about money at all], Twitter DMs, text, probably not the phone because I hate the phone), then let's do that. 

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