Frugaling

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Lose Track Of Time To Find Your Career

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Looking out at my future

Graduate school consists of a series of races – from place to place, hour to hour. Today, I was a student, counselor, teacher, and technical assistant. Every day requires a series of hats, as I run from activity to activity. Sometimes my mind feels like it’s in a million different places at once. It’s hard to slow down.

Thankfully, I’m nearing the end of my tenure as a doctoral student, and ready to think about next steps. I’ve segued to future-oriented questions. The most important one has been: How can I make the greatest contribution to society, while continuing to be excited to work each day? This question propelled me in the first place to study counseling psychology and acquire a Ph.D. But next steps beget a reevaluation of how I can best make a difference. I can’t stay in graduate school forever!

As a counseling psychology student, I have the privilege of multiple career paths. Some go directly into private practice (seeing clients), hospitals, teaching at universities, researching psychological concerns, and/or informing public policy. Alone, any one would be nightmarish; I’d get itchy, looking for diversity in my daily routine. Doing a sole activity all the time scares me. I don’t want to become an automaton. Frankly, I’ve envisioned being most happy with a blend of research, teaching, and counseling.

Questions abound: Would I like to be a university professor? How about a counseling psychologist at a VA? Will I work at a community college or research institution? How much of the job will include teaching, practice, or research? Where will I find a new home – East, West, Central, another country?

Answers are nearly impossible to find, as the job market is constantly in flux and increasingly competitive. I won’t magically be handed a career because of my advanced degree. Surprising as it may be, having a Ph.D. only gets you into an interview – not in the door.

Future career prospects are also tempered by concerns of stress and overwork. In this field, I’d venture to say many academics put in 60 to 80-hour weeks. There are numerous employers that work people mercilessly. Too many treat their employees as replaceable “human capital.” These practices leave individuals prone to burnout and contribute to this country’s greatest killer: heart disease.

Where does that leave a soon-to-be Ph.D.? Like much in life, I’m seeking a balance between my wants and needs. The 30-hour workweek for an academic probably doesn’t exist unless you’re near the end of your career. But 80 hours per week for years frightens me to the core.

The secret for me is pursuing passions, which can often result in “flow.” This psychological concept centers on how “just-manageable challenges” tend to make employees feel purposeful and needed — in between anxiety and boredom. When this state occurs, people become hyper-focused, productive, and generally happy. It’s a mutually beneficial state for employers and their underlings, but not often made possible due to overscheduled weeks or monotonous responsibilities.

Researchers have presented six symptoms of flow:

  1. “Intense and focused concentration on what one is doing in the present moment.”
  2. “Merging of action and awareness.”
  3. “Loss of reflective self-consciousness”
  4. “A sense that one can control one’s actions…”
  5. “Distortion of temporal experience.”
  6. “Experience of the activity as intrinsically rewarding…”

Essentially, people are focused, active, forget their struggles, feel autonomous, lose track of time, and are internally motivated. From artists to scholars to writers to mathematicians, flow is an incredible place for creativity and excellence.

The greatest moments of my life have been here, when I lose track of time and become engrossed in an activity. For instance, when I started an endowment, Frugaling.org, and wrote my dissertation proposal, each were madly written, advocated for, and created. Despite the time to establish each, the pleasure of feeling purposeful made the hours fly by. They didn’t feel like work. I lost “reflective self-consciousness” and became the activity at hand.

While constrained by a society that values money over health (again, look at our health costs associated with being overworked and underpaid), I have the opportunity and privilege to pursue my own route. As I envision my “perfect” career, I imagine a series of part-time style gigs. I want a sprinkle of supervising counselors’ work, seeing clients, conducting research, and teaching future generations. The hours might become irrelevant when I’m tested, pushed, and encouraged to focus on helping others.

Two Novembers from now, applications will be due. I have time to find the right home, but I’m eager to fulfill the values gained over 26 years of my life. Right now, it feels like a professorship, but I’m open to change. I need to find my flow; without it, any job would be unbearable long term. Additionally, I need to be able to shape ideas, work, and daily activities in a manner that helps others directly.

How will you find your flow? What activities make you lose track of time? When do you feel purposeful, action-oriented, and passionate? Could these activities ever become a part of your work?

How Psychological Pressures Change Your Spending

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Over the last month, I’ve been working on my dissertation. While writing this tome, I’m continuing clinical work at a local VA, instructing two courses, and creating scholarly papers. This might be the busiest moment of my life. And in about a month, I’ll need to hand over a draft to my adviser. And he’ll decide “go” or “no go.” My future depends on it.

The symptoms of this pressure are powerful. I’ve struggled to write, become a nervous wreck, and have unending indigestion. My stomach burbles and gurgles with unease. Simultaneously, Frugaling has been unusually quiet, and I’ve been shocked by the emails from regular readers wondering how I’m doing (you’re so sweet!). I’ve been unable to write as much as I like.

Eventually the dissertation writing will end. But I can’t help but think, I need to succeed. I’m in control of this moment, and I’ve never been more motivated.

Unfortunately, as I’ve focused on this one area, a handful of others things have faltered. Control in one category, has led to failures in others. It’s like my brain can only concentrate on a few things at once; then, it descends into reactive, non-conscious action. My reptilian brain takes over, and I let autopilot handle the controls.

My ideals of frugality and simple living have taken a back seat to this burden. Even after two years of Frugaling, I’m embarrassed to say I still struggle to maintain a budget when the stress hits the fan. With nearly every moment hunched over my keyboard, hammering away at keys incessantly, old habits are returning.

The inner voice says, “I’m too hungry to wait for home. I want to treat myself for writing so much. I need a break – give me that large popcorn.” Me, me, me, me, me. I crave candy, quick meals, and snacks at strange times. Yes, I want that fatty burger and fries. Yum! All I want is to swipe a worry away and not feel guilty for doing so. Suddenly, I can spend $60-70 in a day’s worth of food. Poof!

These moments highlight the complexity of changing a budget and spending less. We can make great alterations to our lives, and still relapse and regress. It happens. And I think I know why.

See, the first 24 years of my life, I didn’t watch spending, create a budget, cook at home, avoid student/car loans, bike to school/work, or look for ways to save. My brain developed a pathway and logic to deal with nearly everything over those years, including when to eat out, buy a car, etc. Frugality wasn’t in the mix, and it got me into 5 figures of debt.

It’s hard to change anything; especially if that’s all you’ve known. The neuronal structure has developed a keen appreciation for certain types of rewards and feedback. Simply put, my brain expects me to spend when I’m stressed. To change this pattern of behavior requires repeated corrective action, recognition of when I’m slipping, accountability from friends/family, and other reward mechanisms.

One of my psychology textbooks curiously likes to say that after about 6 months of change, a habit can stick. Well, I’m here to tell you that’s not always the case. Despite a couple years of successful behavioral change, I occasionally fight to regain control and relapse to old spending.

Various factors work against me. Twenty-four years of bad habits and a society full of encouraging messages about immediate gratification stack the deck. It’s an uphill battle, but I’m better at waging it than ever before.

I might not have perfected my budget but change has occurred. Today, I can realize when everything is falling apart – spending has gone haywire – and stop. Today, I can write this letter of accountability to you all. Today, I can admit faults while acknowledging strengths.

Frugality isn’t about dogma or perfection. We’re on a journey – together – to find ways to save, spend less, and recapture control when we lose it. There’s power in these lessons and the brain – while stubborn to change – does slowly cooperate.

What I Learn Outside The Classroom

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Computer work

“It occurred to me that there were two sets of virtues, the résumé virtues and the eulogy virtues. The résumé virtues are the skills you bring to the marketplace. The eulogy virtues are the ones that are talked about at your funeral — whether you were kind, brave, honest or faithful.”
—David Brooks

Earlier this week I chatted with an old friend about my dissertation. I mentioned that I’m having trouble isolating variables, staying interested, and writing the countless pages required of me. But her advice and guidance helped keep me on track, motivated, and psyched.

At some point during the conversation she asked me about my plan. More specifically, what was my plan with Frugaling. I pondered that question and frankly didn’t understand what she meant at first. “My plan?” I inquired. She responded, “Yeah, your plan. You’ve been working on Frugaling for a long time now. Do you ever think it’ll influence or turn into a career?”

I couldn’t help but laugh aloud. Frugaling has never felt like a primary goal or endpoint. Rather, working on this site has been a break from the normal routine — an opportunity to write freely and talk about personal finance in a forum that didn’t exist for me.

Interestingly, I’ve always lived this way: pursuing one avenue while holding countless activities in the background. In high school, I gambled and watched the stock market in every off block or break. I played at lunch with friends and raced home to sign online for hours of entertainment. Poker and stocks superseded high school. As a consequence, my grades suffered and relationships were strained. Nobody liked the person I had become, including me. The lessons of high school paled in comparison to the power of isolation, overwhelming greed, and selfishness. I learned early on that I never wanted to go back to that place.

Despite the lessons, it was the start of a long pattern of side work/play. In college, I was a resident assistant, op-ed columnist for the school newspaper, research assistant, instructor, and served on various committees for suicide prevention and community service. By the end of my tenure I raised over $30,000 for suicide prevention. Here, I learned the importance of selflessness, friendship, and love. None of which were learned in the classroom.

I’ve been in graduate school for… Well, I’m working on my fifth year now because I spent a year at my alma mater in another Ph.D. program. Then, I transferred to my current one for counseling psychology. But in my one year, I became more immersed in the world of suicide prevention via board memberships and invited talks.

My passion for mental health and community engagement grew, but it stood in conflict with academic demands. When I left the program and moved to another, the professors called me it out and basically said, “You’re a great person to have in the classroom, but you’re distracted and your grades have suffered. There are times in life where you must cut back on certain activities to excel in others.”

That was the first time in my life where I wholeheartedly disagreed with feedback about how I conducted myself. My “distractions” were epic side projects, which got me through graduate school, gave me diverse experiences, and exposed me to entire world of learning that occurs out there — in the world.

See, I can’t help but think that these mentalities are something of an “old guard.” In generations of yore, people would become educated, train for a particular career, and then work until they either dropped dead or retired. They did that one thing — over and over again. If all went well, you retired with a hefty pension and retirement package. You could drift off into blissful security, knowing you’d worked hard and earned the riches to live comfortably.

This mentality of education, training, and career has shifted though. People change jobs more than ever — laterally, vertically, and entirely. Now, a job is a temporary weigh station versus a home away from home. Employers tend to treat employees as expendable moneymakers — easily replaced with another head. And the incentives for staying with one company have largely evaporated. Even when pensions are offered, they’re sometimes cut or stopped altogether.

Frankly, I have an utter insecurity for pigeonholing myself to one esoteric career path and never looking back, sideways, or ahead. It’s utterly frightening to imagine doing one thing for the rest of my life, and I’m not sure that any one employer will empower me to do so.

I’ve been in school for about 21 years. The majority has been spent “distracted” and preoccupied with other loves, passions, and motivations. And I can’t help but think about Neil deGrasse Tyson’s belief that discoveries don’t occur in classrooms — they happen in minds, labs, and connections outside. Heck, Einstein didn’t have his eureka moments in a classroom. But largely, most seem caught up in the rat race of education and prestige.

As I reflect on the future of Frugaling, it’s easy to see how it fits into my life. It will likely never be my number one “career,” but there’ll always be a place for this wonderful distraction in my life. These adventures in time and effort have never failed me. In breaking away from the shackles of needing A’s in all my courses or feeling guilty for not working harder, I’m comforted by the fact that work comes in many forms.

Today we live in a world of great change and diversity, to assume or predict what’s necessary for tomorrow would be foolish. Instead, I embrace the unknown by mixing up my life and embracing my wacky, weird, and awesome interests.

How do you approach your career in the 21st century?
What careers are you training for?
Do you ever work outside work or “distract” yourself? How so or why not?

Living For The Moment – Not Spending It

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There are constant pressures to spend – especially as a twentysomething. Marketing companies have perfected the appeal to youthfulness and adventure. And sometimes people get trapped in façades of the “good life.” They buy expensive cocktails, go to clubs, and spend til the only thing that’s dry is their wallet.

I’d be lying if I said that doesn’t sound fun from time to time. It’s a blast getting to hang out with friends, blow off some steam, and recognize that life is finite. Let’s have fun when we can and spend in the moment. For a few moments we can pretend like the financial pressures of student loans, income inequality, and variable credit debt don’t exist. When we swipe, the worries disappear.

Why am I talking about spending like there’s no tomorrow? Because two days ago I read something that shocked my senses. An Elite Daily author, Lauren Martin, wrote an article entitled, “If you have savings in your 20s, you’re doing something wrong.”

The entire foundation was on the premise of partying hard, networking, and enjoying life when you can. Instead of saving money or contributing to a 401k, Ms. Martin advocated for being on the edge and nearly penniless.

She explained that you needn’t worry about saving at this time because later in life you’ll be making more. With great simplicity, a friend of Lauren’s says, “Don’t save money. Make more money.” From then on, she’s awakened to the idea that buying expensive items is her right and obligation. When she turns 40 and looks back on her twenties, she feels confident that it will all be money well spent.

Her article wraps up with 7 of the most egregious statements I’ve read about finances:

  1. “When you’re too worried about your bank statement, you’re not making your own.”
  2. “When you’re saving for yourself, you’re refusing to bet on yourself.”
  3. “When you have something to bank on, you have nothing to reach for.”
  4. “When you live your life by numbers, you strip yourself of poetry.”
  5. “When you die, you can’t take your money with you.”
  6. “When you deprive yourself, you don’t learn how to TREAT YO SELF.”
  7. “When you care about your 401k, your like is just a ‘k.’”

Giving Lauren the benefit of the doubt, her words can almost be read as aspirational and inspirational. You might think, “Yes, I’m going to live it up while I can and make a name for myself. I’m going to show everyone who I am. Watch out world!” But read them again, and you’ll begin to notice privilege, ignorance, selfishness, and myopia.

Perhaps most egregious of all her recommendations is the age-old line, “When you die, you can’t take your money with you.” The adage is right, when you’re dead, you’re all dead. Unfortunately, this author is missing many of the reasonable reasons to save. By socking away cash when you’re young, you’ll be better prepared for uncertain medical complications, job loss, and anything life throws at you. But even more, death brings an opportunity to give back. I intend to give what I can to charities and offer the rest to family. If, instead, I spent it all on drinks in my twenties, I’d have nothing for either.

The second line I want to focus in on is, “When you’re too worried about your bank statement, you’re not making your own.” Presumably, Lauren’s suggesting you must spend money to make a name for yourself. Whether it’s the expensive clothing she purchases or fanciful “networking” opportunities at restaurants, she seems to know how to make her own statement.

But making a statement is complex in a society bombarded with advertising. Being unique requires constant reanalysis of culture. To be countercultural and your own person is actually difficult when certain brands aim to sell to that exact demographic. The good news is that statements needn’t cost anything. I can make a statement by saving, and that might be the most powerful of all.

The Internet is vast and diverse. Finding voices that encourage wanton spending is easy. What took me by alarm and spurred a response was two-fold. First, the article was published on a fairly popular news and opinion website. Second, the article had been shared over 35,000 times in two days. Lauren hit on the pulse of a large group of twentysomethings. Her article explicitly supported spendthrift ways. Anyone that needed an excuse to empty their wallets could find solace in her words.

We’re constantly at a precipice between spending and saving. Each day we are confronted with this choice. We can spend our savings away in a flash of 20s, or save for the many moments that life brings. To break away from the herd mentality and save can be challenging, but the choice is ours.

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