Tell The Truth

Tell The Truth

If you want to make a big change. Pay off debt. Build wealth. Lose weight. Start a habit. Or break one.

You must understand the difference between lying and telling the truth. I’m not just talking about lying to other people. Or about lying to ourselves. 

I’m talking about pretending. Faking it. Wishing it was true. Trying to sound optimistic. Looking at the bright side. Acting ‘as if.’ Exaggerating. Minimizing. Fudging. Rounding up. Or down. Bullshitting. Fabricating. Distorting. Spinning. Misrepresenting. Omitting details. Cheating. Being polite. Playing nice. Putting on a smile. Fantasizing. Embellishing. Romanticizing. And all the other ways that we manipulate strings of words in our minds and contort our lives to try to make ourselves (and other people) feel better.

To really change. We’ve got to understand where the truth ends and a lie begins. And we’ve got to learn that this isn’t a fine line. Or a flimsy one. Or a flexible one.

How To Make A Decision

How To Make A Decision

We are constantly making decisions.

Some of them are easy. Simple. Routine.

What to wear?

What to eat?

Which one to buy?

But every once in a while, we're faced with a pretty big decision.

A decision that might take us off the road we've been traveling. A road that we've grown to tolerate. Or even love.

A decision that has leads us straight into the unknown. 

When to leave?

When to quit?

When to start?

Which way should I go?

Raise The Roof

Raise The Roof

Getting out of debt isn’t easy.

And, it’s not supposed to be.

We get into debt slowly.

Unconsciously.

Mindlessly.

And then, we get used to being in debt.

We tolerate it.

Until it seems normal.

Comfortable even.

 

If we want to raise the roof on our net worth.

If we want to really get out of debt.

We’ve got to be willing to do the difficult.

Even the impossible.

We can’t expect to stay unconscious.

We can’t expect to mindlessly, comfortably, gently walk our way to being debt free.

Nope.

 

Saturation Point

Saturation Point

I want it. 

But how much should I spend on it?

I used to just spend what I wanted. When I wanted to. Without giving thought to how much I was spending. 

I used to believe that spending more meant I was buying higher quality. And that spending less meant a better deal.

I didn’t give conscious thought to what I wanted to spend. I allowed the item, or the situation, to dictate its price to me - and I blindly followed.

I reacted to situations. I reacted to the price tag. I justified something if I wanted it enough.

I didn’t have my own personal idea about value. Or about what something was worth to me. Or about what the exchange of dollars really meant.

I was living in the world of instant gratification.

If I wanted something. I got it. And most of the time I didn’t even look at the price tag.

This is the very foundation of impulse buying.

If you haven’t taken the time to know what you want. And you haven’t consciously decided how much you’d like to spend. 

No worries.

Marketers will decide for you.

They know that they can seduce you with a sale.

Or a brightly placed display.

Or an “Only 3 left.”

They know that they can tell you why it’s urgent to spend. Now. This much.

And that it works.

What A Lemon Tree Taught Me About Mon

I have an over-achieving lemon tree in my back yard.

It's a small tree. It doesn't take up a lot of space.

But it is serious about lemon production.

It's not like a regular citrus tree with its arms reaching up to the sun. It more like a weeping willow with heavy lemon-laden branches. 

There are at least five hundred lemons on it right now. (I didn't count... just go with my story here.)

When I first moved in, it was spring.

I thought lemons were in season.

And I picked tons of them.

And tried to use them all.

And then they rotted on my counter tops.

And the lemon tree kept on making lemons.

Summer came.

Still lemon season.

I ignored the tree.

The Power Of Numbers

The Power Of Numbers

Who would we be without our numbers?

The number of dollars in our bank accounts.

The number of bills waiting to be paid.

The number on the calendar.

The number of minutes left before we can clock out.

The number of hours we spend in our car.

The number of years it has been since we last travelled.

The number on the scale.

The number on our pair of jeans.

The number of drinks we had last night.

The number of crunches we promise to do tomorrow.

Lost Luggage

Lost Luggage

I was in some form of debt for nearly 20 years. 

The last three years of my life have been dedicated to radical debt eradication.

I didn't realize it at the time - but debt was kind of like my baby.

I thought about it constantly.

I would strategize about how to pay it down.

I would run numbers in my head.

I had a running calculation everytime I spent money.

Or made money.

I was obsessed.

This wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

It kept me passionate.

It kept me focused.

It provided momentum and motivation.

One Wild And Precious Life

One Wild And Precious Life

I used to wish that life was easier.

More fair.

I secretly wanted to be rescued. Or saved. Or at least have someone help me carry the weight of my journey here on this planet.

Maybe a man. A career. A friend. Fame. Money.

Could do the hard stuff for me.

So I tried subletting my life.

I tried to give away the property rights to my own self.

I tried handing over the responsibility.

The decisions.

And I found that I couldn't do it.

I can't be saved.

I can't be rescued.

And I don't want my life to be easier.

$571,817.68 Down And $0 To Go

571,817.68 is a lot of dollars.

On January 18, 2009, this is how much I owed in debt.

After a decade of living beyond my means.

A couple of lousy real estate transactions.

And a failed marriage.

 

I have carried this debt for nearly three years.

Watching each month as the numbers crawled toward zero.

And yesterday, I made my very last payment.

New balance: $0.00.

 

If I stacked 571,817 dollar bills into a pile and weighed it - it would be 1,167 pounds.

 

That's literally HALF a ton.

The debt I carried weighed as much as a grizzly bear.