Deprived? Not us
Posted
Jun 06 2008, 12:04 PM
by
Donna Freedman
Rating:
Emily, a personal-finance blogger at Remodeling This Life, was recently asked something all you frugalists have probably heard before: Don't you ever get tired of living this way? Don't you ever want to stop being deprived?
(Haven't heard these questions? Don't worry. You will.)
Yet Emily thinks her life is pretty good. "I am not deprived of anything that I want or need," she wrote in a blog essay. "Through prioritizing and giving meaning to each and every dollar we spend, we accumulate less, experience more and make room for beauty and passion all around us."
Being frugal requires her to "use restraint and patience, waiting to find the right deal at the right time." As a result she has become "more creative, always trying to think of a way I might be able to do the same thing for less and add uniqueness at the same time."
That doesn't sound like deprivation to me.
'Beauty in the little things'
Emily is a stay-at-home mom of a preschooler and a toddler. Two years ago, she and her husband moved to Florida and bought a 1960s cottage that they've been rehabbing themselves -- on a shoestring, of course. With one income and two kids plus remodeling costs, their simplicity was both voluntary and necessary.
But it's taught her a lot. The most important thing she's learned is "that a simple, small, frugal life is a fabulous life. … I have learned to live in the moment, enjoy the mundane and find beauty in the little things."
Sound familiar? It does to me, too. I'm still working on the "live in the moment" part, since I'm always thinking ahead to the next writing assignment, the next course reading, the next batch of homework, the next research paper. But I've spent years honing those other skills Emily noted: enjoying the mundane, and finding beauty in the little things.
The word "mundane" is often used as a synonym for "boring." I'd like to note that it also means "of or pertaining to the world." That's the real world, as opposed to the imaginary one that advertisers try to sell us. Enjoying the mundane, then, might mean raising kids, fixing up a house with your own hands, shopping carefully, modeling your values.
Seeing the smile of delight on your daughter's face when she plays on the swings. Watching your home take shape. Meeting your needs with available funds instead of going into debt. Living your life with purpose.
How is any of that boring?
Making the switch
Those of you who are new to frugality might, in fact, feel deprived. Maybe you were accustomed to dining out nightly, to shopping most weekends, to leasing a new car every year, to traveling wherever and whenever you pleased.
Strictly speaking, you are deprived -- something that was once a big part of your life is no longer there. Added to this is the shock of learning to live differently. It's more work to cook at home than to pay a restaurant to do it for you, and it takes a new mind-set to entertain yourself without a credit card.
You have to learn to create a spending plan and stick to it. You need to shop with your head and not your heart, such as buying a used auto rather than leasing shiny sports cars. You must learn to save for vacations, or forgo them entirely until you get your finances squared away.
Ask yourself this: How much of my life am I willing to spend paying off consumer debt?
Deciding your own values
Would we be as anxious to keep up with the Joneses if we found out that the Joneses are in debt up to their hairlines and about to declare bankruptcy? Some might. Others might try Emily's tack, which is to "use creative and thrifty ways to bring home the things we need."
"I like to think the values that we all learn from frugality and simplicity are very important ones," she writes. "We are teaching our kids restraint, saving, patience, character, recycling, reusing, creativity."
Living well doesn't have to cost a fortune. To me, a "rich" existence is a mundane one, because the world is full of small moments that add up to a life filled with beauty.
I'd rather eat bread and butter with a dear friend than a steak dinner by myself. The satisfaction of that full meal is merely corporeal. When I share simple food with a friend, my soul gets fed, too.
