Just when you think you've finally got a grip on things...
...you get hit with a 10k tax bill that you put off paying last year
If there’s one thing I’ve consistently excelled at throughout my life, it’s probably procrastination. In primary school, my mum often had to sit next to me to get me to do my homework; in high school, I would only ever read a fraction of the assigned books (all the while devouring a ton of my own books…) and by the time I was at university, I had resorted to writing my essays on the 13-hour flight back to London after Christmas—despite having had over a month to finish them and not taking a single day off from panicking over the looming deadline.
Puzzlingly, I’d always have a boundless array of activities, books, films or shows up my sleeve that I would launch into doing, reading or watching the moment I remembered all the stuff I was expected to do.
Bar a few particularly noteworthy blunders (there was the time I missed a merciless professor’s office hours by 40 minutes, resulting in a disastrous ten percent deduction because he refused to accept digital copies (it was 2010), or when I managed to let slip the registration period for an exam and had to spend a whole semester doing…nothing because passing said exam was a requirement to continue my graduate degree), I usually mustered just enough energy panic right before a deadline to meet it.
Still, for years, I’ve been battling the intense self-hate of someone who would so like to be diligent, organised, consistent, punctual, perfect no matter what she tackles, but mostly just cannot seem to manage to be anything other than last-minute, chaotic, frazzled, forgetful, late. The stark contrast between the person I (and my parents, teachers—and society) wanted (me) to be and the one I’m actually capable of being had saddened, frustrated and bewildered me for twenty odd years—until a therapist finally told me I was a textbook case of someone with AD(H)D. Ever since, I’ve been trying to answer my limitations differences with more leniency and gentleness. Sometimes I even succeed.
The moment I opened the letter from the tax authorities, gently reminding me to settle my 2023 tax bill, was not one of those times. Least of all because it’s almost 10k.
Here I thought I was doing so well, conscientiously wiring money to the tax authorities every month, ahead of the final bill for this year. With the unvarnished truth staring me in the face, however, it slowly came back to me that the reason why I’d even decided to be so sensible in the first place was that I had faced a similar issue last year: an unsurprising amount at an unsurprising time, somehow still a complete surprise to me. Since I lacked the funds then, I hastily postponed paying it by a few months— surely my money troubles would be entirely resolved by then. Without a single change to my behaviour, it goes without saying.
I don’t want this to be read as a cautionary tale of procrastination. Instead, I think I’m trying to make peace with the fact that this may just be a feature of my personality; one which has, unfortunately, contributed a lot to my financial trough. Why impose boundaries today when you’re having such a fun time and you could just start being good tomorrow?
Of course that ‘tomorrow’ never does come with shopping. I’m repeating myself here, but: there will always be a new (fashion) item you can lust after; that’s the industry’s whole game plan. And as is the case with all snowballs, the problem only gets larger the longer it rolls on. The more I postponed reassessing my habits, the larger the hole in my pocket became, and the less willing I was to face and tackle my problem. Talk about a vicious cycle.
I’m not gonna lie, this setback is a really demoralising one. As soon as I opened that letter, I felt the familiar mix of hopelessness and futility sneak up on me. What’s the point of working so hard on changing my habits, forgoing the intoxicating rush of shopping and steering clear of any consumerist temptations when things are still not even slightly looking up?
Short of alternatives other than throwing in the towel aka hiding under the covers and feeling very shitty about myself, I’ve been trying to focus on the small wins. This includes walking away from a decently priced (£79) faux fur coat at a Zara in London this past weekend, despite the rush I got from imagining myself in it, looking fabulous, in all sorts of situations.
This might sound extraordinarily snobbish (please don’t @ me), but:
First, there is the fact that I even considered buying anything from Zara. I only own one thing from there—a plain, black top—which is the result of 1) my fear of wearing the same outfit as someone else in the same place and 2) fast fashion’s devastating effect on the planet (although, of course, I am painfully aware that having stuff shipped to me from faraway places every month is similarly abysmal, no matter how ‘sustainably’ those clothes might have been made, but I’ll get into that at some other point).
Coming face to face with my rampant overspending, however, has *somewhat* clarified what I can actually afford. I doubt I’d have landed myself in this pickle if I’d shopped at Zara instead of Khaite, Toteme, Jacquemus or Acne. Then again, I’d probably still be just as broke as I am today, only with four times as many clothes.
Second, I wouldn’t have thought twice about impulsively spending £79 six months ago. Yet there I was, suddenly considering how much this really was. As it happens, £80 is what it cost to treat an old friend to brunch, visit the Michelangelo, Leonardo, Raphael exhibition at the Royal Academy and enjoy a San Pellegrino Aranciata. All of which I’d so much rather do than I would like to own that coat, on any given day.
I’ve realised that my compulsive shopping had dulled my spending threshold so much that I’d come to find prices such as 450 Swiss francs for a bottle of perfume, 1,400 for a pair of boots or 560 for a jumper entirely reasonable. Today, I feel a tiny bit of pride and a whole lot of relief that I no longer do.
Present shopping distractions
What I’ve been wearing
What I’ve been experiencing
Good: After years of hesitation, I got Mikesch a feline friend last month. This kitten’s sweetness goes beyond the constraints of the written word. I’ve nonetheless decided to name him Tolstoy, after my favourite author (if you haven’t yet, please do yourself a favour and read Anna Karenina).
Bad: Donald Trump.
What I’ve been seeing
If you’re in London, go see the Francis Bacon show at the National Portrait Gallery. His works are sublime and so affecting, as is learning about the loves that shaped his life. Thinking about this triptych, born from the guilt and loss the artist felt after the suicide of his former lover George Dyer, still makes me well up.
What I’ve been watching
I’ve been recommending Bad Sisters to anyone who will listen. It’s a very black, very entertaining comedy with a brilliant cast, whose Irish accents make it all the more enjoyable. Also, Eve Hewson is a vision.
Thanks so much for reading!
A xx