Familiar dread

One too many to risk.

Photo by Farhat Altaf on Unsplash

When someone asks me for money,

specifically, to lend them,

I freeze,

clam up,

go cold, panic, I start sweating, my breath comes in short gasps as I look at the person with a totally pained look,

My mind starts running through all these scenarios in quick succession, none of which are positive

What if they don't pay?

Why would they ask me?

Just why me?

I'm sure they’re looking to con me and rip me off.

They probably aren’t truthful about their need for the money; they’re looking to just get some from me and ghost me.

They won't pay back for sure. Of all the available options, why me? Why did they have to ask of me?”

I have had one too many episodes of disappointment and am still waiting for some money I “gave/lend” out years ago, and no, I haven't forgotten either; it keeps me awake at night, nagging my conscience to sleeplessness.

They all are innocent, speak politely, address me with unnecessary accordance, but wait till the money crosses hands, then they become loud, abrasive, crude, rude, unavailable, too busy, forgetful, uncaring, frightful to be around, strongly opinionated, with no end in sight of fast sprouting woes that prevent the repayment.

I also have these conclusions about the other person, just quietly laughing somewhere about how they bested me, easily got money from me, and walked scot-free with no care and no one in the world to compel a repayment.

It hurts so deeply in ways and places only the heart and soul can endure.

It's most infuriating and annoying when, after the poetic humble promises and elaborate assurances, I need to keep* “reminding”*- no, scrap that- begging incessantly for my money to be paid back.

Most conveniently, as soon as they get the money, they “forget” that it was supposed to be reimbursed as per the agreed terms.

Now one will say, draw up a contract or an agreement, let everything be in black and white, written down on paper, witnessed by 2 or 3, a lawyer to be present, dip your fingers in ink, maybe red is better, it sends a warning and a strong message, to take this seriously, leave your fingerprints prominently displayed on the document, next to your signatures- even better most highly recommended 🙄, safe keep the original in a bank’s vault, get copies and keep it in a home safe, pray over it, involve all the respected elders on both parties- then the money changes hands in a very solemn ceremony.

And then I just as well should have saved myself time and just stood on the street and given out the money to some deserving individual based on perspective.

Because no sooner has the literal money changed hands than I have to bid it farewell for good, I know in my heart of hearts I’ll never see it again, only by some miracle or once-in-a-blue-moon surprise that- just is a myth, that will never happen.

I sometimes just blame myself because I didn't start “reminding” the other party earlier to follow up on their word.

Maybe I waited too long with my extended grace period to see if it would occur to them to repay it?

Maybe I'm too nagging?

I'm just afraid of nothing, I assure myself, after maybe 70 years, they’ll finally remind their great-grandchildren to pay me?

Or, now I am smiling in delusion, they got a nice surprise for me, I will be summoned during a will reading and bequeathed with some jaw-dropping valuable, leaving me breathless and flabbergasted😑

aaand then I check myself-yeah if wishes were horses…

So please understand the anxiety attack I get when asked for money is rooted in the disappointments I have endured time and time again.

I also give myself comfort that maybe this is a different person; I know them like this, like that, oh! Elea, get over your fears and past traumas, not all people are bad, and never put everyone in one pot,

and then the days melt into weeks, then months and years, and I panic,

I feel that familiar dread creeping in, the fear, the cold realization settling in my spine like a grip behind the neck with ice-cold fingers and my breath catches in my throat, my eyes snap wide like a rat caught between two painfully close spaces realizing it can’t go back or forwards and it's stuck,

each time I remind myself of the occasion-the conversation I had to convince myself to keep having faith in humanity, and the willingness to hand over the money with doubt lingering besides me, I get these episodes of black flashes, deep resentment,

I hold onto my realism to prevent myself from slipping into a void of self-pity and pathetic self-hatred.

and am not talking of little sums, though those matter too; these are serious huge amounts that cripple my spirit and render me a momentary self-mumbling foolish idiot before I shake myself to just you know keep living,- “it's well”, “I’ll make more” I say

Maybe I'm too trusting, too nice, but I just don't want to go through these torturous episodes again,

So if you ask me for money, I got the answer for you, it's simple -sorry.

My legs are tired of running after those who owe me. I can't keep hating people forever no matter how huge the sum of money they “borrowed”, but they sure hardened me and made genuine others in need meet a brick wall of sorry

period.

I don't explain; I don't justify why;

Sorry is a complete answer on its own.

because being taken for a ride like that, having to summon people into a matter that they can’t be bothered to show up or aren’t willing to respond, engage or mediate positively is so exhausting and exasperating in unimaginable heartbreaking ways,

i had to look for intermediaries to intercede on my case, plead a convincing narrative that’ll move the one sitting on my money to repay it, which ends up in more promises, drawn up agreements that’re a waste of paper and energy and well-you guessed it -the obvious conclusion after all is said and done -ghosting and nothing, compounding silence and emptiness that keeps stretching on and on.

I just lie awake thinking what else I have to do or say to just make them pay the money back, who I have to call on, even if we go to court and they still default, I’ll again start the rigorous process all over?

Guilt for falling for the familiar trick of, “lend me…”,

“Believe me…”,

“trust me”,

“I can’t do that to you, I promise”

No!, But no thanks am just too exhausted to go through that ever again

Sorry, will do.

✍️ From the Founder of Threads of Life, Money & Momentum.

— Arpita Srivastava

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