Women and Spending Power

When I was on a child-raising break to be with Tanvi as her daycare center was not good, I picked up a few freelance training assignments during that period, tasted blood, and have only been freelancing  Why am I getting into all these humdrum details? Because whenever I have been without work (read: without a steady income), some months with no money at all (freelancing is an unpredictable work choice), I have been very (to the power of 10) depressed.  

I have been depressed because I couldn’t shop for myself, couldn’t shop for my family, couldn’t shop for the house, and least of all, could not even do grocery shopping. Shopping offers a temporary high, is exciting for a fleeting moment. I have heard that tirade against shopping a zillion times. But the freedom - to flash my debit card (earlier) or electronic wallets (now), on a sudden impulse to buy something that lasts, for the house – is supremely tempting. The irresistible itch to pick up stuff from a flash sale or abuse insane discounts during public holidays or festivals or the crazy cash-back deals they flaunt online, I am guilty of it.  Just knowing you have money on you in case you need to buy something on an impulse – that’s a coveted feeling.

But this beautiful joy, which comes with financial power, is lost when you don’t earn. And then I go into severe depression. And since I am an incurable worrier, at times, I have been so depressed that I go online and do those (free) Tarot card readings! What a horrible phase that was - feeling unwanted, desperate for attention, feeling the lack of respect. I would upload the same resume twice in one week hoping for a head hunter’s call. Not because I would join the first company that called, but to reassure myself that my skill-sets still had a market value and that if I chose, I could be the earning member of the family again.

I love running my household. I love planning, buying, securing, and cushioning for the family. I even love buying milk and coriander leaves as much as I love buying a laptop or phone and paying off debts and budgeting for road trips. It fulfills me. I am ‘masculine’ in that sense; more a provider than a nurturer. Being an enabler makes me happy. Providing for the needs of our home makes me feel proud of myself. Never having to say ‘no’ or ‘don’t have money for that when my daughter asks for something, is my ultimate success parameter.

The kitchen stifles me. I don’t really enjoy being in that part of the house. I feel trapped. I feel like the cockroach that scuttles away at the sight of a human. But the cockroach has nowhere to go, as every corner is sprayed with insect repellent. It knows the spray means sure death in a few minutes. Husband’s money, what husband bought, what husband gifted, what husband planned, where the husband took - it has never given me joy. Strangely, I have eyed women with jealousy when their husbands have showered them with expensive gifts or vacations. I have thought to myself, “Wow! What a life. How lucky is she.” And then go right back to feeling sick that I am not that kind of “husband.” I would be bored being a wife whose sole purpose in life was to ‘keep house’ (ghar sambhalo) for which she would be rewarded with monthly shopping sprees in various malls in the city.

The buoyancy you feel when you know you are still wanted in the job market – that’s a high. The exhilaration of cash in your wallet, the pride when you hand over your card to the waiter at the restaurant, the look in the cashier’s eyes as you punch in your password on the swipe machine, the smile on your face when you look at things around you and realize you bought them – I miss that. It’s been ten months since my last training assignment. My baby is 8 months old now and I have not been able to get back to work. I am depressed. 

[This post was written 7 months back. I could publish it only today. My daughter is 15 months old now. And I am back on the work track.]