Perspective is a funny thing
Losing it and finding it again (Originally posted to Substack April 1st, 2026)
The last time I truly thought about perspective was when I decided that I hated toxic positivity and it was ruining my life. I toyed with the idea of writing about it, but it was mostly just me complaining about people I had to interact with on a semi regular basis. Every time I reread it I just sounded bitter and obnoxious.
I filed my taxes two days ago at midnight. It was the first year I didn’t have my parents’ “guy” file them for me. Through immense fault of my own, I owed the government a number of dollars that I’ll choose not to disclose, but know that it’s a soul crushing amount for a 25 year old. I told my mom I could pay rent, taxes, or my credit card, but not all three. While I’m grateful for my financial situation and learned enough to save what I could, I was basically bankrupt by this oversight. In addition to this, I also owed an underpayment fee because they didn’t ask me initially for a form that I had and I also had to pay to refile with the caveat that I now needed TurboTax Deluxe. In the darkness of my bedroom, my dry face illuminated by my computer screen, I googled “ways to make money now” and hoped for options that didn’t include prostitution (physical or emotional). When I finally fell asleep at 3 am I woke up with That Funny Feeling™. I got to work and felt an inescapable urge to burst into tears, but an inability to actually cry. My eyes watered for 8 hours non stop and I choked it down like I’d done it a million times before.
My own financial anxieties bring with them shame, guilt, and anger geared at past me for not being stronger. Erewhon plate with beef here, cream top latte AND pain au chocolate there. I need to cancel my DoorDash subscription. I walked to get lunch and actively hoped a car would hit me, all while abiding by the crossing signals and looking both ways. Being in the red didn’t stop me from buying house made chips and salsa. When I got home that day I put on an episode of Ginny and Georgia, because their reality was only slightly worse than mine, and then fell asleep at 6pm. I was in the middle or ordering Wingstop when I decided sleep was the only thing to keep me from pulling the trigger. When I awoke in the middle of the night, my circumstances hadn’t changed. I was still out of funds, and stuck in life, and I had also missed a dance class that could’ve made me feel better if I felt a little less like my life was ending. Not only was I feeling poor, I was feeling romantically undesired, platonically lonely, and like a waste of the money I did still have.
My self hatred is only made worse by toxic positivity. I was not interested in someone even alluding to a silver lining. I had already rehearsed all the ways in which my mistakes could be formulated into a lesson that could launch me into a more fiscally responsible version of myself. How I could pose this as my origin story once I become Super-Financially-Responsible-Girl™. I had already pre-abused myself in all the ways I could imagine. Every financial misstep was addressed. Every mistake. I would throw up all the food I had ever eaten if I could. I would give back my belongings and sleep in a storage closet. I would suck the knowledge out of my head. I would give back any time I had paid for. Have it. It’s yours. So, I slept for as long as I could, and I felt guilty about that too.
Today, I woke up to a text from my mom. It was a screenshot of an article in our hometown paper. The stepdad of a childhood friend on mine had been arrested for a multitude of sex crimes against a minor occurring over the course of several years in the late 2000s/ early 2010s. A year ago that friend had texted me asking if I had ever been sexually assaulted while at her house growing up. I hadn’t. It had been a few years since we talked and she didn’t provide further details on the situation. I don’t remember if I told anyone she reached out. I obviously didn’t tell my mom. She said “Do you think [redacted] is the minor? I hope not but I’m looking at the dates”. I confirmed her suspicions and she said, “Omg I didn’t know it was her!! Glad she told someone, sweet girl I hope this helps her heal”. I hope this helps her heal too.
I think the worst thing you can do to a person who is in genuine distress is tell them it could be worse. Sure there’s people who are dying, but it does suck that I owe the government a ridiculous amount of money. Especially because they’re probably going to use my money to do something stupid (I owed federal tax). You have to find perspective on your own. Sometimes the universe will show it to you, you just have to have the eyes to see it. If you’re particularly dumb and closed off, sometimes it hits you over the head. It really could be worse.
I trust my mom little to none with my feelings, but lately I’ve had a voice in my head saying “she might surprise you”. I think I saw that in a show or something. When I texted her about my taxes and all I owed, I expected her to tell me to take it as a lesson. I should’ve done x, y, z. Press me if I had the money. Tell me to budget. She didn’t do any of those things. She just let me talk. I complained that ICE agents are getting my yearly gross salary as a sign on bonus. She agreed it was ridiculous. She wished me a better day. She said “The future will be brighter this too shall pass… it will get easier”.
It will get easier.
Comments