Fiscal insecurity
By MP on Monday 9 October 2006, 12:34 - Journal - Permalink
This money anxiety of dad's is getting really quite intense. He called me six times before noon to say he's in dire straits and needs more money.
The last conversation went as follows:'Dad, this is the sixth time you've called me this morning.'
'Is it? I'm sorry about that. I don't mean to keep disturbing you.'
'No, but let's try to figure this out together: how much do you think you need in your wallet?'
'Well...I don't know...'
'Obviously you think it should be more than you've got at present, which is $120. So how much would you like to have?'
'No, it's OK. I'm sorry to bother you about this again.'
'Dad, I'd just like to get some idea of what we have to do so you don't feel the need to keep calling. Let's agree on a minimum amount for you to have in your wallet, then we can make sure you've always got more than that. OK?'
'Yes, OK.'
'So how much do you think?'
'Three dollars or...four dollars.'
'Come on, dad. You need more than that!'
'Well, I don't know.'
'Do you know how much you spend each week?'
'No idea.'
'Well, let me tell you: you spend fifteen to twenty dollars each time you go to the mall. And you go to the mall every four or five days.'
'Do I?'
'Yes. So the money you've got now would last you over three weeks.'
'Would it?'
'Yes. And I come over much more frequently than that, and I can bring more money every time I come over, so there's really no money problem.'
'Well, you know...we just like to have enough to make sure we don't run out.'
'You're not going to run out - but it would be easier if you told me how much it is that you think you need.'
'Well, it varies...'
He obviously wasn't going to name a figure that made any sort of sense. Some might think I'm interpreting these calls too literally, but I don't see any alternative. I could get all soothing and tell him that everything will be all right. I'm pretty sure he'd laugh if I did, and I wouldn't like doing it anyway.
Rachel recently wrote to say:
But I don't think I know what to do about generalised anxieties.Just reading today's blog concerning dad's obsession with money reminds me that it is no too long ago that mum was similarly concerned and would badger dad for cash even when she had more than enough in her purse and nothing much to spend it on. Dad used to try and convince her she didn't need money because he paid for everything using EFTPOS but this never satisfied her. I used to think that money represented independence to mum - perhaps it's something similar with dad - having money gives us the ability to do things, go places etc. It's a good feeling even if there's nothing we particularly want or nowhere we want to go.
Dad is possibly experiencing a generalised anxiety and is seeking a logical cause and probable solution for it.
Comments
I know it's not funny to you, Mike, but I have to say, I started giggling at the phrase: "No, but let's try to figure this out together..." You may think that recording these conversations is torturously repetitious, but at least one of your readers (me) is finding them fascinating. I burst out laughing when your dad said he only needed a few dollars, then laughed some more when you cajoled him, "Come on, Dad..." and on it went.
I think I'm experiencing giggles of recognition. Money is not one of my mother's 'getting stuck' topics, but, as you know, The Dead Zone is. Sometimes I find the repetition interesting enough to consider that it isn't, completely, repetition, certainly not to her, occasionally not to me. I've had some success comparing her repetition to rereading a favorite piece of literature over and over and experiencing a different kind of intellectual luxury each time. Sometimes, though, I simply say, "You know, Mom, I can't go over this again, right now. I'm going to table this conversation for another time." She remains, unlike your father, fairly accepting of this, until her brain reboots and it begins again; sometimes (although not as frequently as your dad's) within minutes:seconds. Sometimes distraction works. Sometimes it doesn't.
I think you are doing the best that is possible and your patience amazes me. I hope you are reaping a personal reward from doing this.
One survival technique I've learned of which this post reminds me: When my mother reboots her brain, I attempt a similar operation on my own. It's not foolproof. I sometimes simply can't reboot again within the same 24 hour period. As well, her rebooting involves complete erasure. Mine involves a more complicated rewriting of software and caching recent memory into singular delete status, where I retain the file but have to supply values for the question marks in the file name if I desire access. It's one of those forced "live in the moment" techniques that offers some relief.
I agree with you that you are not interpreting these calls too literally. My mother would react in exactly the same way as your dad if I tried to soothe her; and "I wouldn't like doing it anyway", either. For some reason, despite the incessant repetition, your technique, which I continue to use on my mother (unless I have been driven temporarily insane and am beyond reasonable technique at a particular moment) seems to be inexplicably tied to retaining her dignity and mine, even as we live in different intellectual realities.