April 2nd 2024.
I woke up to the sound of my phone buzzing on my bedside table. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I reached over to check what could possibly be causing such an early morning disturbance. To my horror, I read the notification that my Santander account had entered an unarranged overdraft. Panic set in as I tried to figure out how I had managed to exceed my overdraft limit. Was it my phone bill, website costs, or credit card payments?
Feeling overwhelmed, I curled up into the fetal position and stayed that way for the rest of the day. It was my go-to reaction for dealing with financial worries – to ignore them and pretend they didn't exist. But this time, a voice in my head whispered, "You'll always be in debt." I used to bury my head in the sand or pillows whenever money troubles arose.
Despite living a fairly comfortable life with my partner, owning nice clothes, and eating well, I don't indulge in extravagant things. I share streaming services with my partner and being a vegetarian Indian, my grocery list mostly consists of pulses, vegetables, and spices. So, it came as a shock to me that I had even less coming in than I thought.
Before the pandemic, I had a steady income as a writer and speaker. I enjoyed going out with friends, trying new restaurants, and participating in pub quizzes. While I was never wealthy, I was comfortable. But somewhere between the chaos of the pandemic, a turbulent relationship ending, and my mental health deteriorating, I found myself in constant debt.
I stopped seeing my friends, stopped treating myself, and my eating disorder took advantage of the situation. I would make excuses to avoid social gatherings, citing work deadlines as a reason. But the truth was, I was embarrassed to tell anyone about my financial struggles. There's a lot of shame attached to having money problems, especially for someone like me who was raised by hard-working immigrant parents who instilled in me the value of money from a young age.
My financial situation not only took a toll on my mental health but also on my physical health. I put off getting an eye test for three years because I was worried about the cost. When I finally went, I needed glasses. I found two pairs I loved, but as I went to pay for them, panic set in. "You'll always be in debt," the voice in my head reminded me. I stepped away from the till and checked my account, only to find that I was £2 over my overdraft limit. It was enough to make my palms sweat and for my bank to charge me, pushing me further into debt.
In the following days, I refused to leave the house, fearing that I would exceed my overdraft limit even more just by taking the bus or buying a coffee. As a freelancer, I still had some jobs trickling in, but not enough to support myself. I also work as an editor on a contractual basis, but I also run community projects that don't generate income.
This year marks the ninth year of my South Asian identity magazine, Burnt Roti, and I founded Middlesex Pride, an event for the immigrant community in West London. I have been running the magazine at a loss, funding the print issues and associated events and campaigns from my own pocket. I rarely receive sponsorships or grants, and when I do, the money is quickly swallowed up by expenses and fees. Last year, I had to use my wages to cover extra costs for Middlesex Pride.
I am on the brink of financial ruin. Without enough income, I can't support these projects, and after nine years, I have to shut down my magazine. It's devastating, but it also means that I can focus on Middlesex Pride, building a life with my partner, and finding more secure work. I am open to full-time or part-time jobs, but the problem is that the experience I have gained from running my own community projects is not always recognized by employers.
I was once rejected for a job because they wanted someone with at least five years of experience, and I replied, confused, "But I have nine years of experience." The first time I received a rejection like that, I cried myself to sleep, and it shattered my self-esteem. But I have started making changes. I have already managed to reduce my phone bill and cut down on website costs for all my projects in 2024.
I also made the decision to be open with my partner about my financial struggles. They helped me create a budget and we went through my bank account to find areas where I could save money. Most importantly, I have started speaking more openly about my finances. There shouldn't be any shame in talking about money, but we are always taught to keep it to ourselves. I want to change that. Many of us are not living comfortably, and luxury is a foreign concept.
Debt is one of the reasons why there is a growing wage gap between genders, disabilities, and races. I am still in debt, and I still get anxious when my phone buzzes. I still sometimes prioritize my finances over my health because of the cost of medication. But I have accepted that it's scarier to hide silently in debt than to face it head-on.
Do you have a story about debt that you'd like to share? I'd love to hear from you. Let's start a conversation and break the stigma surrounding money problems. Share your thoughts in the comments below.
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