Hey debt fighters! Today we have an awesome dear debt letter from Jayme. Jayme is a freelance writer and blogger at sonotniche.com who has paid off more than half of $65,000 on a low income. She blogs tips on surviving as a family of five living below poverty level while still kicking debt’s butt.
I will no longer be the “other person” in my husband’s life. I will no longer take a second place to you.
I know that you two had a relationship long before he and I met. Even though I am the better person, you still manage to occasionally seduce him with your ‘feel-good’ promises.
As my Gramma would say, “You ain’t nothing but trouble.”
For half a dozen years now, we’ve lived with you between us. Lurking like a dark temptress in the night, you take many forms.
You are past medical bills. You are our mortgage. You are the disembodied spirit of past marriages. You are things we had to buy out of necessity, and interest that accumulated over years of only being able to make minimum payments on past mistakes.
Slowly, we have managed to remove parts of you from our lives. You are losing your appeal. My husband is learning to desire freedom more than things. To realize that he doesn’t have to belong to you anymore. There is a way for you to break up forever.
I’m more attractive than you, Debt. I am more seductive. I am tempting my husband with promises of things you never allowed him to have, like fat savings accounts and delectable little luxuries bought with cash.
This is the big year. This year, you need to pack up your bag of tricks and get ready to buy yourself a bus ticket out of my town. In a few months, we will only deal with you through the bank, as we begin padding out our mortgage payments. That will be the only lingering trace of YOU in our lives. In less than three years, you will be nothing but a bad memory.
Will he miss you? Don’t fool yourself. You aren’t that great. In fact, you suck.
You’ve eaten our food, taken our holidays, and stolen away time we should have been enjoying our family. You’ve made us hang our heads in shame and try to hide the times we couldn’t afford even basic necessities.
You’ve spit on us one too many times. Now its my turn.
As we speak, a check is going in the mail. One small piece of you is about to die.
I hope it hurts you like you have hurt us, you abusive piece of baggage.