Filing for Forgiveness (How Financial Ruin Set Me Free)
I moved to Chicago right out of grad school to sing in the chorus of 4 shows at Lyric Opera of Chicago. I immediately set about conquering the Chicago music scene. I auditioned for musicals, operas, choral groups, and went to open calls for modeling agencies. I sang at churches and soon took a role in a local theater production of Naked Boys Singing. Balls to the wall! I was performing as my primary income source while also supplementing with a day job at Banana Republic, where I made $8.50 an hour for shifts starting at 5 and 6am. I was young! Who needed sleep?
When work at Lyric Opera slowed down in the off-season and my school health insurance ran out, I started to panic for some financial security. Add to that a newly acquired taste for the finer things of Chicago's Magnificent Mile (hello, PRADA!) and I needed a full-time job, which I took at Banana Republic. I continued to make my home environment more comfortable (I'm a Cancer; we nest) and clothe myself and go out with friends and despite my full-time job, like many 20-somethings, I soon found I couldn't pay off my credit cards every month. I'd never missed a payment, though. I sold my car, and credit card companies continued to increase my credit limits. Credit was easy! In that time, you could also use balance transfer offers to continue moving the balances around and never pay interest. I thought I was so smart, and I figured I'd get promoted the next year and then be able to pay them off.
I was able to pay off my cards when I moved in with my ex in 2002, but I'd tasted the forbidden fruit of luxury and a regular paycheck. I worked more retail and auditioned and performed less. I took few voice lessons, if any. And I began to grow comfortable with my life.
In 2005 , when I was single again, I viewed a little condo that I thought had a lot of potential, and so I borrowed against my 401K in order to come up with a down payment. Over the next few years, I spent money I really didn't have remodeling the kitchen and bath, but failing to save for the rainy days, like when a roommate moved out overnight and left me hanging for rent, or when a real estate deal I'd been counting on fell through. Little by little, the easy allure of credit card debt crept back into my life. At 31, I was back in trouble and returned to retail to pay it off again. By this time, the balance transfer offers had dried up, and for the first time, I was paying interest and progress to pay down the debt was much slower. It seemed like I'd never be free again. But I was living within my means again and paying it down little by little.
In 2010, I was barely involved in music, but followed through on a resolution to go and audition for the Met Opera Chorus. I was offered a show, and I decided I had to move to NYC to do it or I would regret it forever. I put a whole bunch of moving costs on credit cards, and the process of paying off my debt was delayed. NYC proved more costly than I'd imagined, and 2 years into my NYC adventure, I was in more debt than ever, while also making more money than I ever had in retail. I'd still never made a late payment, but the minimum payments were beginning to crush me.
And then the world fell apart. Under new management, I was laid off from my Area Visual Manager job, a job I'd been doing so well, and that I'd enjoyed so much. After 2 months and several interviews but no job offers, I decided that perhaps the universe had finally shoved the baby bird out of the nest. I moved to NYC to pursue music, not to work retail! I got a restaurant job so that I could audition and started exploring how I could make music my main thing. But at the same time, the condo in Chicago I'd kept became vacant for an unexpected month between tenants. I couldn't pay my mortgage and my credit card bills and my rent.
I worked my ass off at odd jobs, gave up my apartment and crashed with my boyfriend, and leaned on people like I'd never had to before.
And I filed for Chapter 11 Bankruptcy.
This was really hard. I still remember an ex's phone bill I covered that was never repaid. The friend who stayed in my apartment a couple months promising rent who ghosted without paying me a dime. Forgiveness does not come easily for me. And I believed that I owed that money. For so many years, I believed that I should work as hard as required for as long as necessary to pay off the debt I'd incurred. I went on those vacations. I bought that bathroom tile. I wore those shoes and drove that car. I should now pay the price.
But the only way I could make enough money to live in NYC and pay off my credit card debt was to continue working at a job that was slowly numbing my creativity and passion. And now that job was gone. I had to pull the escape hatch that would release me from my drowning.
In the year that followed, I started working at NYU while also going back to school to earn an Advanced Certificate and become a better teacher. Within a year, I was hired onto the music major voice faculty at NYU. And I love teaching! My students inspire me daily! On top of that, I've been able to say yes to every singing opportunity and make room in my life for my volleyball and volunteering passions (that didn't fit into my life when I was working retail). I work out consistently. I make my own schedule. I can go on vacations paid for with cash I earned doing music. I'm able to work toward my big dreams instead of continuing to worry about how I'm going to pay the rent.
When I stopped flogging myself and trying to pay for the sins of my past, I was able to move forward. (Sure, living outside my means in my 20s was wrong! I regret it. Don't do it!) But how long must we hold ourselves accountable for these things when forgiveness is ready and available, whether through a federal law or just sitting down in front of the mirror and letting it go?
(Did you know that Billy Porter filed for bankruptcy in 2007, 6 years before winning a Tony Award for Kinky Boots. Who would've created Lola if he'd decided to become an accountant to pay off his debt?)
Making the decision to forgive myself of my debt, although it still has repercussions, has made room in my life for the good stuff, the friends, the mentors, continued learning, putting my health first and being stronger to support those around me. And so much more than I ever imagined for myself (What?!?! I'm a voice teacher at a top university?!)
It's not that I recommend everyone file for bankruptcy (I have a friend who paid of an incredible amount of credit card debt by working second jobs and cutting expenses and I have so much respect for that journey!) This is certainly an extreme example of self-forgiveness, one that took me years to come to terms with. Even the shame of admitting that I filed for bankruptcy has kept me from talking about it, though I can honestly say it's one of the best things that has ever happened to me.
What other hooks could we let ourselves off? Maybe you're upset that you never finished college and let it stop you from applying for the job you really want. Maybe you wish you'd taken piano lessons and were a better musician. But dwelling on the past never does any good if we don't learn from its mistakes. When we forgive ourselves and move forward with a clean slate, we open up the space in our hearts that was filled with regret and hurt and sorrow for the damage we've done, and we leave room to fill that space with life, love, joy, and passion. A job I sorta liked that paid good money but worked me awful hours so I could pay off my credit cards has been replaced by a job about which I'm deeply passionate that allows me to share my passion for music with the next generation. And if I hadn't been able to forgive myself for those years of living outside my means, this surely couldn't have happened.
When work at Lyric Opera slowed down in the off-season and my school health insurance ran out, I started to panic for some financial security. Add to that a newly acquired taste for the finer things of Chicago's Magnificent Mile (hello, PRADA!) and I needed a full-time job, which I took at Banana Republic. I continued to make my home environment more comfortable (I'm a Cancer; we nest) and clothe myself and go out with friends and despite my full-time job, like many 20-somethings, I soon found I couldn't pay off my credit cards every month. I'd never missed a payment, though. I sold my car, and credit card companies continued to increase my credit limits. Credit was easy! In that time, you could also use balance transfer offers to continue moving the balances around and never pay interest. I thought I was so smart, and I figured I'd get promoted the next year and then be able to pay them off.
I was able to pay off my cards when I moved in with my ex in 2002, but I'd tasted the forbidden fruit of luxury and a regular paycheck. I worked more retail and auditioned and performed less. I took few voice lessons, if any. And I began to grow comfortable with my life.
In 2005 , when I was single again, I viewed a little condo that I thought had a lot of potential, and so I borrowed against my 401K in order to come up with a down payment. Over the next few years, I spent money I really didn't have remodeling the kitchen and bath, but failing to save for the rainy days, like when a roommate moved out overnight and left me hanging for rent, or when a real estate deal I'd been counting on fell through. Little by little, the easy allure of credit card debt crept back into my life. At 31, I was back in trouble and returned to retail to pay it off again. By this time, the balance transfer offers had dried up, and for the first time, I was paying interest and progress to pay down the debt was much slower. It seemed like I'd never be free again. But I was living within my means again and paying it down little by little.
In 2010, I was barely involved in music, but followed through on a resolution to go and audition for the Met Opera Chorus. I was offered a show, and I decided I had to move to NYC to do it or I would regret it forever. I put a whole bunch of moving costs on credit cards, and the process of paying off my debt was delayed. NYC proved more costly than I'd imagined, and 2 years into my NYC adventure, I was in more debt than ever, while also making more money than I ever had in retail. I'd still never made a late payment, but the minimum payments were beginning to crush me.
And then the world fell apart. Under new management, I was laid off from my Area Visual Manager job, a job I'd been doing so well, and that I'd enjoyed so much. After 2 months and several interviews but no job offers, I decided that perhaps the universe had finally shoved the baby bird out of the nest. I moved to NYC to pursue music, not to work retail! I got a restaurant job so that I could audition and started exploring how I could make music my main thing. But at the same time, the condo in Chicago I'd kept became vacant for an unexpected month between tenants. I couldn't pay my mortgage and my credit card bills and my rent.
I worked my ass off at odd jobs, gave up my apartment and crashed with my boyfriend, and leaned on people like I'd never had to before.
And I filed for Chapter 11 Bankruptcy.
This was really hard. I still remember an ex's phone bill I covered that was never repaid. The friend who stayed in my apartment a couple months promising rent who ghosted without paying me a dime. Forgiveness does not come easily for me. And I believed that I owed that money. For so many years, I believed that I should work as hard as required for as long as necessary to pay off the debt I'd incurred. I went on those vacations. I bought that bathroom tile. I wore those shoes and drove that car. I should now pay the price.
But the only way I could make enough money to live in NYC and pay off my credit card debt was to continue working at a job that was slowly numbing my creativity and passion. And now that job was gone. I had to pull the escape hatch that would release me from my drowning.
In the year that followed, I started working at NYU while also going back to school to earn an Advanced Certificate and become a better teacher. Within a year, I was hired onto the music major voice faculty at NYU. And I love teaching! My students inspire me daily! On top of that, I've been able to say yes to every singing opportunity and make room in my life for my volleyball and volunteering passions (that didn't fit into my life when I was working retail). I work out consistently. I make my own schedule. I can go on vacations paid for with cash I earned doing music. I'm able to work toward my big dreams instead of continuing to worry about how I'm going to pay the rent.
When I stopped flogging myself and trying to pay for the sins of my past, I was able to move forward. (Sure, living outside my means in my 20s was wrong! I regret it. Don't do it!) But how long must we hold ourselves accountable for these things when forgiveness is ready and available, whether through a federal law or just sitting down in front of the mirror and letting it go?
(Did you know that Billy Porter filed for bankruptcy in 2007, 6 years before winning a Tony Award for Kinky Boots. Who would've created Lola if he'd decided to become an accountant to pay off his debt?)
Making the decision to forgive myself of my debt, although it still has repercussions, has made room in my life for the good stuff, the friends, the mentors, continued learning, putting my health first and being stronger to support those around me. And so much more than I ever imagined for myself (What?!?! I'm a voice teacher at a top university?!)
It's not that I recommend everyone file for bankruptcy (I have a friend who paid of an incredible amount of credit card debt by working second jobs and cutting expenses and I have so much respect for that journey!) This is certainly an extreme example of self-forgiveness, one that took me years to come to terms with. Even the shame of admitting that I filed for bankruptcy has kept me from talking about it, though I can honestly say it's one of the best things that has ever happened to me.
What other hooks could we let ourselves off? Maybe you're upset that you never finished college and let it stop you from applying for the job you really want. Maybe you wish you'd taken piano lessons and were a better musician. But dwelling on the past never does any good if we don't learn from its mistakes. When we forgive ourselves and move forward with a clean slate, we open up the space in our hearts that was filled with regret and hurt and sorrow for the damage we've done, and we leave room to fill that space with life, love, joy, and passion. A job I sorta liked that paid good money but worked me awful hours so I could pay off my credit cards has been replaced by a job about which I'm deeply passionate that allows me to share my passion for music with the next generation. And if I hadn't been able to forgive myself for those years of living outside my means, this surely couldn't have happened.
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