To all parents - Debt will kill you and will shape your kids’ relationship with finances indefinitely!

Stop
while you can.

I don’t know when it all started. It must have been something buried deep inside my childhood that
triggered a chain reactions which is still hard to keep under control. All I know is that money was
good when I was a kid. I don’t remember ever wanting something that I didn’t get, or having to eat
less that a perfect meal each time. We had vacations every year, almost always twice; I had toys and
books, modern clothes, I always at the top of my game. I did really well in school and I my mom
rewarded my efforts with money when I got older and started to go to national and international
math contests for middle and high school kids. I had everything at home and more money to spend
than any other kid in my class.

I do remember my mother being always busy and nervous. She is a math teacher, and she had back
then pupils that she taught at home, as an extra source of income, on top of her classes. It’s common
in my country to get a teacher at home and pay him by the hour when you don’t do so well in a
certain area, or when you are exceptional and need more work for better results. She came home
late in the evenings and left every day at 7a.m. I hated her for not being there, for being always so
absent, and I hated her when she tried to communicate something about her day, because it always
was about other kids, sometimes my age, that she had spent time with, instead of me. I realized in
my adulthood how much of a spoiled brat I was and what sacrifices she had to undergo to offer me
so much more than a carefree life.

So many details about a perfect life should not be an indicator of a later down spiral, financially
speaking. But I think they are, I believe that buried somewhere deep in those memories is a trigger,
of a collection of triggers, that shaped the adulthood years. Maybe it was the fact that my mom was
never the person to point out the importance of being rational with your spending, maybe because
she thought I was always smart enough not to make mistakes. I don’t know. Or maybe, my father’s
personality and character is more a part of me that I know.

He was a teacher too. A high school physics teacher. But he didn’t like to work hard, even though he
was a brilliant man. After a while, he managed to get a gig in the Teacher’s Union, and that meant
that he could give up teaching, and still receive the same retribution, so he did that. It was easier,
most of the time they prepared paperwork for law suits against the government to get extra benefits.
It was important work, people loved him for it. He was always home before 2 pm. The courthouse
closes at 1 pm and from there, he went home. He never did any extra work for more money. My
mom was the one that planned our family’s finances, she calculated how much we can recklessly
spend and how much we have to keep for utilities and future vacations. We had no issues back then,
but I think she did, since she was bringing three times as much in the house, working later and also
managed everything around there. She never bought fancy clothes for herself or fancy perfumes,
everything she had was divided into strict portions, so that we would all have all that we need and
something extra for vacation fun.

The years passed, I grew up, got into the University I chose, and they decided to split. I think she only
stayed with him this long because of me, so that I would have two parents while I was still underage.
When I was 19, they had a divorce. My mom moved out renting an apartment, my father moved out
to his mother’s house. So, I remained in the apartment I lived in, and after a while they decided not
to split it but instead just donate it to me. Being young and naïve, I thought at that time that was a
good thing. I would have a house in my name just like that. So they did. I had a house, and of course
everything that came with it: bills, taxes, responsibilities. All that while being a student in my
freshman’s year. Which meant no income whatsoever. We had classes from 8 am to 4 or 5 most of
the times, and some days a week, they courses where split into two parts, with a lunch break of 2
hours of so. So I would be able to come back home at 7 or 8 pm. I never dreamt back then of getting
a job, it was impossible, the pay would have been awful and I would break my academic stream of
excellence.

My mom gave me some money. She did offered to pay the utilities, but in the months she did, I got
no other money, as in, money for food, or internet or the phone or whatever else. Not to mention
clothes. I’m not talking about book, because I have plenty of those, I never needed more, and if I did,
those were given to me for free by my parents or teachers. When I complained about money, she
always told me: “Ask your father too. He never gave anything for you while you were little. Now he
has to pay you a monthly allowance until you graduate. Tell him. “ I tried to ask him, but he always
complained about money as well. He started taking back loans, and all other kinds of loans. It’s not
that his salary was that small, but he was accustomed to a different lifestyle. He could not give up his
vacations, twice a year, and now mom was not there to endlessly provide. Instead he found an ex-
girlfriend of his that made less money than him, so the lifestyle was bound to lead to a catastrophe.

My mom on the other hand moved in, renting an apartment, with an establish engineer, who, even
though not as smart as her, was successful and very active. A man that can’t stand to sit still and do
nothing. The opposite of my father.

So, I could force my father into giving me money, and the only solution was going to court, and I did
not want to do that. I just let it be. And me and my boyfriend lived from what I got for bills from my
mom, and from what his mom helped us with sometimes. I do remember those as fun time. We were
young and happy, did not need much. We did realize at some point we will not be able to keep the
apartment if nothing is payed, but we figured we’ll wiggle it a few years and then sell it maybe and
get a smaller one. Or maybe my mom wanted it back. And she could help with some money if I give it
back.

But she didn’t. So, we decided to keep it as long as possible. We always paid power and internet bills,
but did not pay always the apartment water/gas and maintenance bill we have here in my country. It
takes a long time to get sued for that, the birochracy here is horrible. Of course, we stated to get
some income to make that possible. I stayed up late to work on translations me and a friend got, and
he tried different small gigs or opportunities. Oddly enough, whenever he got money he got
something for him. He never ever helped with food or anything regarding the apartment because,
well, it was mine, not his. He almost always ate at his mom’s house, so he had that part taken care of.

A few years passed. My relationship was not that great anymore. My mom and my dad both married
their partners. My grandfather had died and my mom moved into her childhood home in the same
city, so she escaped paying rent. Her hubby started modernizing the house, and it looked pretty good
now, very efficient and smart. My father would even change a lightbulb back when he was married to
my mom, so this was a big step up for her, in that area. But her new hubby did not have the
academic smarts my father and mother did. He was different, but somehow they made it work.
My father and his new bride sold her apartment and bought a smaller one. They had to live with her
son, who is 3 years older than me. Oddly enough, his name is the same as my dad’s. They still had
back then the new apartment under her name and of course there was my grandmother’s
apartment. He somehow got that under his name, and used it to finance lots and lots of huge credits.
The mortgage on it was immense, I have no idea how they gave him that much money for a one
bedroom apartment.

In the meantime, it was time for me to move to a smaller apartment as well. I had no credits or
anything but the bills were just too high. So, I asked my mom to help me sell it. She found someone
in the building that bought it, for what I see now was a very small price. I paid what I owed for the
bills and with the rest of the money I wanted to look for a studio apartment, while living with my
boyfriend for a while.

This is when my father first came to me asking for money. It was back in 2005, I graduated from the
university, the translations developed into an agency, and the freelancer work was good back then
(less people from underdeveloped countries had access, so the pay was better, as there was no one
to un-level the market). I had the apartment money in the back, quietly sitting there till I was ready
to buy something. My boyfriend and I had lots of money to spend out of what I made, so we were
fine. He didn’t have a steady job, but he didn’t need it yet. The pay was horrible on regular jobs in
Romania. It actually still is, I don’t know how people survive. And maybe, just maybe, I was already
accustomed to the idea of the woman being the main provider, because that was what I saw growing
up, so it did not bother me at all.

My father called me one day to ask me out for a coffee. He told me on the phone, with an amusing
tone, that I would have to buy him a coffee because he has no money. I agreed, I liked my father, he
was very witty and funny, always a pleasure to spend time with. So, I chose a restaurant and we met.
He never was the type of person to go straight to the point. He valued conversation, and sometimes
fantasizing on some philosophical concept was more important to him than the issue at hand. I like
debating for the purpose of it, I appreciate intelligence and witty conversations, and I was used to
him being that way, but I figured there is something more underlying all this. And of course I was
right. He was on the verge of losing my grandmother’s apartment (with her still alive and living in it!)
if he did not pay the bank rate that he had due immediately. It was a lot, on a few different loans (I
still can’t figure out how he found a solution to get that much money while still on debt, banks here
usually don’t give you more). I tried to make him a payment plan pointing out that out of his salary
he could cover the rate in 6 months or less, but he explained that he had also taken money from a
loan shark that requires a weekly payment. He didn’t say how much, but it was clear it was a lot. So,
after the promise of leaving me the apartment after my grandmother would die, along with the
remainder of the bank credit at that point, I agreed to pay for what he needed right now and also to
cover one of the small bank loans, so the interest would be smaller. It was quite a big part of what I
had in the bank, but I trusted my father, and I figured I could pay for the apartment bank loan
monthly anyways, if he ever asks again, so that the apartment wouldn’t be lost, and I still get to have
it. For me that, would’ve been a better deal than the studio apartment.

I did tell my boyfriend about the arrangement, he did not agree but I pointed out that it was my
money, money that came from them; money I never worked for, so what I did was fair. I realized my
father had a hard time with finances since he and my mother got a divorce, and I felt guilty for
accepting that apartment in the first place. I did not tell my mother though, I should’ve, but I didn’t
want her to make me realize the mistake I made.

So, the countless asking for money started. He never asked for money to pay off the bank on that
apartment again, but there were plenty other reasons. The lowest point, when I felt bad that I feel
bad for a person I wanted so much to respect and admire, was when he started to ask for 5-10 usd
(equivalent) so he can buy food. That was devastating. I remembered a video I once saw with a very
smart beggar, surrounded by books, with dirty hair and clothing, thin and sick. I also found out that
his wife was a bitch, asking for money constantly, taking his salary to pay off her loans, cause she also
had some, and treating him like dirt.

By that time I already knew that the money he owed to the loan shark was never paid. All he paid
was the weekly interest. And he still owed there the equivalent of 25,000 usd. I have no idea what
they ever did with all the money they borrowed. I never knew, he never told, nothing was clear. I
figured that, in their first years, they spent way more than they could handle, and they also paid for
everything for her son, who didn’t work at all. Keeping the lifestyle you afforded at some point when
you can’t afford it anymore will ruin you completely. It will turn you into a beggar.

I was not the only person he turned to for money. Everyone at his office loaned him. Most of them
never expected the sums back. They were giving him money for cigarettes or coffee or bread on a
daily basis. He was living out of the mercy of others, while using all he earned to pay off loans that
were accumulating, because he was no longer able to keep up with them. He even started to give
private physics lessons! He never ever did that before, but no he was doing it, for the extra money.
At this point he tried everything, at last, but it was way too late. There was no way he could escape
his situation. It’s so hard to live and be raised as a person who takes pride in his intelligence, and
then, all of a sudden face a fate worse than a hard-working but not so smart janitor. You feel
ashamed all the time, I know cause I have been there too, and I imagine he must have felt worse,
having to face all those people at work every day, after reaching the lowest low. He never told me ho
he felt in detail. He did not like compassion, mercy was like his kryptonite. I feel the same way most
of the time. I’s not normal, it’s arrogant and counterintuitive when you are facing ruff times, but we
were raised to be intelligent in a society that guaranteed 110% the success of those how could prove
their mind capabilities. The problem was, the society fell, and now we were left in a new world of
opportunity and no guarantees, where intelligence matters, but not so much, and not always !