Like any good HSP, I don't like to be too busy. Long to-do lists and piles of unfinished work make me anxious. Extended periods on call break me a little mentally. I'm not entirely sure how I survived residency, in retrospect.
As an attending, my happiness is affected a lot by the call schedule. When the 2018 call schedule came out last year, I was initially ecstatic: no less than a month between blocks of call*, all of my requested days off, and Christmas off for the second year in a row. I was a tiny bit disappointed to see that I was working a lot of the long weekends, but that was a small sacrifice for what was otherwise pretty much the best call schedule I could ask for.
And then a revision came out. And suddenly I was doing two extra weeks of call, with only a two-week break before I had to do my next stretch of call. And the second stretch of call was immediately before my trip to France, meaning that I would be going into vacation tired and inevitably behind at work.
I was not happy. I angrily** emailed the person in charge of making the call schedule to try to get it changed, but she had clearly had enough of dealing with demanding physicians, and she told me that I would have to find someone to switch with myself. She was done.
So I studied the call schedule, looking for someone with whom I could switch one of my dreaded call periods. There were a few options that would make things better, but all of them had at least one drawback: during my beloved theatre festival, right before a major presentation, too close to another call period. No matter how I switched them, the two extra weeks were going to make some stretch of my year miserable.
And then it occurred to me that I could just get rid of them. Call is as lucrative as it is unpleasant, and there are other physicians who value money more than I do. A few quick emails, and two weeks of call were gone.
The moment I got the email confirming that someone else was taking my call, I felt light. I hadn't even realized how stressed I was feeling about my schedule until suddenly it was reasonable again. I felt the tiniest bit of regret about the money I would lose out on, because I still have a line of credit to pay off and retirement savings to build, but it was tiny. So tiny.
Having just come off a two-week stretch of call, I am currently even happier than I was initially about my decision to give up the extra weeks. Even though I like the inpatient work that I do, I have spent the past two weeks counting down the days (and sometimes hours) until I would be able to turn off my pager. I have hated the constant anxiety that comes from not knowing when I would get paged or what new challenge I would have to deal with next. I need my downtime to be happy and healthy, and two weeks with none of it is hard.
This is what financial freedom means to me. The ability to say "This is not worth the money" and walk away from something that makes me miserable. Two weeks with no call is sweeter than any big house or fancy car will ever be.
*We do 1-2 weeks of call at a time for a total of about 10 weeks per year.
**Not really. I am not an angry person. At worst I am slightly passive-aggressive, and even then I'm mostly passive.
Showing posts with label Figuring out my Priorities. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Figuring out my Priorities. Show all posts
Saturday, February 17, 2018
Sunday, December 10, 2017
You Should Buy A Home
At least once a week, someone will ask me when I'm going to buy a home. It started in residency, and it has increased in frequency with every year that I continue to "throw my money away" on rent. In residency, it was easy to justify not buying a home, because I had over $200,000 in debt and I had no time for home maintenance. People could understand those reasons. But as soon as I became an attending, paid off a lot of my debt, and stopped doing 28 hour-plus call shifts, those reasons disappeared. And suddenly, my renting instead of owning became some sort of personal affront to people who own their homes.
These zealous home owners seem to have made it their personal mission to get me to buy a home too. They will send me listings in my favourite areas, along with messages about how perfect the living room would be for a games night or how much I would love the granite counter tops. Any time an article is published that extols the virtues of home ownership, I can expect at least two or three of these people to send it to me. And if I dare say anything even remotely critical of my apartment, I am immediately subjected to a tirade about how much better owning is and how ridiculous it is that I'm still renting.
But you know what? I like renting. For a lot of reasons.
I am not throwing away my money: I have used various calculators to compare the cost of renting and owning in my situation, and based on the home I would likely buy, renting comes out a few hundred dollars a month ahead of owning. So contrary to popular belief, I am actually saving money by renting. People immediately respond by saying "Well...paying a mortgage is forced savings. No one actually has the discipline to invest the money they save by renting." To which I just laugh.
I like putting almost zero effort into my home: This summer, while we were out for dinner with friends, I got a phone call that my kitchen sink had overflowed and was flooding the apartment below it. My (now ex-) partner had to run home to shop vac up the mess, but otherwise the building took care of everything, including paying a plumber premium rates to come out on a Friday evening. The cost to us was zero, and the time involved to deal with it was minimal. As has been the case for anything else that has gone wrong with the apartment. The only maintenance I'm responsible for is replacing the light bulbs! There is no snow to shovel, no leaves to rake, no grass to mow. And I love it.
I love my location: The ex and I started looking at homes earlier this year, and when we talked about where we wanted to live, we both decided that we were already living in the perfect neighbourhood. It generally takes me 15 minutes or less to drive to and from work, which gives me so much more free time than the crazy people who drive 45 minutes or more to the suburbs. My apartment is in mature area with old houses and lots of trees, so it's a beautiful place to walk when the weather is nice. I'm within walking distance of two major restaurant areas, so I can have a drink or two without worrying about driving home. I can even walk to the library! Because it's a very desirable and popular neighbourhood, the housing prices here are high. So I'd be paying even more than a few hundred dollars a month extra to have a nice house or condo in the area where I'm already happily living*.
My apartment is nearly perfect: In addition to location, there are a lot of things I love about my apartment. I have huge balconies (plural) to sit on; there are two washing machines and two dryers just down the hall; there is an exercise room that I use on occasion; there's an indoor hot tub; and I have heated indoor parking. The size of my apartment is pretty perfect for a single person with minimalist tendencies. My building is also filled with dogs who love to visit, which means I get the pleasure of enjoying other people's dogs without ever having to pick up their poop.
I hate the idea of taking on more debt: Although all the other reasons are valid, this is probably at the heart of why I am not looking to buy a home right now. I still have a six-figure debt, and on my current repayment schedule I'm four years away from paying it off. The idea of adding a six-figure mortgage to that makes me want to vomit. "But it's good debt," people say. Gaaaaahhhhh. No. It's still debt. It's still money that I would owe to someone else, which would limit my choices and almost guarantee that I would have to stay at my current job until the debt is gone.
I may buy a home someday. Once the debt is gone and I've saved a bigger nest egg for retirement, I can see myself being interested in buying a place. Something with a bigger kitchen and more space to entertain and hardwood floors, because carpets are gross when you have cats. But at the current moment, renting works for me.
Which ties into one of the most important (and cliché) things I've learned about personal finances: it's personal. Everyone has their own unique circumstances, preferences, and neuroses, so there is no one perfect formula for life happiness and financial success. Lots of people want to buy a home, and it makes sense to them, so great! Buy a home.
Just stop telling me that I should too.
*I looked at an apartment condo a few buildings down from where I'm living, and the condo was over half a million dollars with condo fees that were only slightly less than my rent. It was a really nice condo, but OMG talk about throwing money away.
These zealous home owners seem to have made it their personal mission to get me to buy a home too. They will send me listings in my favourite areas, along with messages about how perfect the living room would be for a games night or how much I would love the granite counter tops. Any time an article is published that extols the virtues of home ownership, I can expect at least two or three of these people to send it to me. And if I dare say anything even remotely critical of my apartment, I am immediately subjected to a tirade about how much better owning is and how ridiculous it is that I'm still renting.
But you know what? I like renting. For a lot of reasons.
I am not throwing away my money: I have used various calculators to compare the cost of renting and owning in my situation, and based on the home I would likely buy, renting comes out a few hundred dollars a month ahead of owning. So contrary to popular belief, I am actually saving money by renting. People immediately respond by saying "Well...paying a mortgage is forced savings. No one actually has the discipline to invest the money they save by renting." To which I just laugh.
I like putting almost zero effort into my home: This summer, while we were out for dinner with friends, I got a phone call that my kitchen sink had overflowed and was flooding the apartment below it. My (now ex-) partner had to run home to shop vac up the mess, but otherwise the building took care of everything, including paying a plumber premium rates to come out on a Friday evening. The cost to us was zero, and the time involved to deal with it was minimal. As has been the case for anything else that has gone wrong with the apartment. The only maintenance I'm responsible for is replacing the light bulbs! There is no snow to shovel, no leaves to rake, no grass to mow. And I love it.
I love my location: The ex and I started looking at homes earlier this year, and when we talked about where we wanted to live, we both decided that we were already living in the perfect neighbourhood. It generally takes me 15 minutes or less to drive to and from work, which gives me so much more free time than the crazy people who drive 45 minutes or more to the suburbs. My apartment is in mature area with old houses and lots of trees, so it's a beautiful place to walk when the weather is nice. I'm within walking distance of two major restaurant areas, so I can have a drink or two without worrying about driving home. I can even walk to the library! Because it's a very desirable and popular neighbourhood, the housing prices here are high. So I'd be paying even more than a few hundred dollars a month extra to have a nice house or condo in the area where I'm already happily living*.
My apartment is nearly perfect: In addition to location, there are a lot of things I love about my apartment. I have huge balconies (plural) to sit on; there are two washing machines and two dryers just down the hall; there is an exercise room that I use on occasion; there's an indoor hot tub; and I have heated indoor parking. The size of my apartment is pretty perfect for a single person with minimalist tendencies. My building is also filled with dogs who love to visit, which means I get the pleasure of enjoying other people's dogs without ever having to pick up their poop.
I hate the idea of taking on more debt: Although all the other reasons are valid, this is probably at the heart of why I am not looking to buy a home right now. I still have a six-figure debt, and on my current repayment schedule I'm four years away from paying it off. The idea of adding a six-figure mortgage to that makes me want to vomit. "But it's good debt," people say. Gaaaaahhhhh. No. It's still debt. It's still money that I would owe to someone else, which would limit my choices and almost guarantee that I would have to stay at my current job until the debt is gone.
I may buy a home someday. Once the debt is gone and I've saved a bigger nest egg for retirement, I can see myself being interested in buying a place. Something with a bigger kitchen and more space to entertain and hardwood floors, because carpets are gross when you have cats. But at the current moment, renting works for me.
Which ties into one of the most important (and cliché) things I've learned about personal finances: it's personal. Everyone has their own unique circumstances, preferences, and neuroses, so there is no one perfect formula for life happiness and financial success. Lots of people want to buy a home, and it makes sense to them, so great! Buy a home.
Just stop telling me that I should too.
*I looked at an apartment condo a few buildings down from where I'm living, and the condo was over half a million dollars with condo fees that were only slightly less than my rent. It was a really nice condo, but OMG talk about throwing money away.
Friday, November 17, 2017
Resisting the Introvert's Tendency to Nest
Despite the winter solstice being over a month away, it is already cold and dark here. Which means that when I'm not at work, I'm happiest when I'm on my couch with a blanket and a good library book. (Currently reading Shrill by Lindy West on the advice of...someone? Twitter? A blog? I really like it!) As an introvert, I can go for very long periods of time with minimal human interaction and actually feel okay about it. Until I emerge from the dark, eyes blinking in the bright sun, and realize that I haven't maintained any important relationships, of course.
I was reminded of the need to nurture relationships this week when I encountered someone who was in hospital and was very much alone. It's bad enough for someone to be in hospital, where the beds are hard, the food is cold and bland, and there is absolutely zero privacy. But to do it completely alone? I never want to be in that position. And even if I am lucky enough to avoid being in hospital, I want to always know that there are people in my life that I can turn to when I need them.
So, immediately after the interaction, I pulled out my phone and started texting. "Friend, want to go for brunch this weekend?" "Friends-who-are-family, let's spend a day together at Christmas and binge watch movies in our pjs!" "Mom, want to come put up the light that I unearthed during my massive purge last weekend?"
(The last one may have been more practical than relationship-building. But that's why we have moms, right? Ideally, at least.)
It's good to be reminded that I need other people. Even when I'd rather be at home in my sweatpants.
I was reminded of the need to nurture relationships this week when I encountered someone who was in hospital and was very much alone. It's bad enough for someone to be in hospital, where the beds are hard, the food is cold and bland, and there is absolutely zero privacy. But to do it completely alone? I never want to be in that position. And even if I am lucky enough to avoid being in hospital, I want to always know that there are people in my life that I can turn to when I need them.
So, immediately after the interaction, I pulled out my phone and started texting. "Friend, want to go for brunch this weekend?" "Friends-who-are-family, let's spend a day together at Christmas and binge watch movies in our pjs!" "Mom, want to come put up the light that I unearthed during my massive purge last weekend?"
(The last one may have been more practical than relationship-building. But that's why we have moms, right? Ideally, at least.)
It's good to be reminded that I need other people. Even when I'd rather be at home in my sweatpants.
Saturday, October 28, 2017
Feeding my Wanderlust
A few months ago, I was faced with the decision between going to a scientific conference in Boston this Fall or one in Paris in the Spring. I have been to Boston before, and I didn't really love it, so I was slightly underwhelmed by the thought of going back. And then there's the fact that the US is currently being led by a misogynistic, racist, xenophobic, fascist twat, which really makes me want to avoid the country altogether.
Mais Paris? Les boulangeries et les cafés et les beaux musées? Bien sur!
So I booked three weeks off in the Spring, bought myself a travel guide to France, and committed myself to becoming fluent-ish in French before I go. That's why I am here in Quebec City, speaking French poorly and savouring every last minute before le taxi whisks me away to the airport and back to my real life.
Going home feels really hard. This morning I wandered along la rue Cartier, which is only minutes from my Airbnb, and I saw so many places I had wanted to visit but couldn't because of lack of time. So many pain au chocolats that I didn't get to eat. As I sat in a café drinking the best coffee I've ever had in my life, I wanted desperately to be able to stay.
As much as I love my home city and all of the people there, I am realizing that I really want to live elsewhere. Not only for a week, but for long enough to really know a place. To try every restaurant and wander every street and speak the language so much that I start to think in it. I want to immerse myself in newness and difference long enough for it to become familiar.
Unfortunately, I haven't exactly chosen a career that makes this possible. I am very subspecialized, making my job market very small. There is no mid-sized town in France that is looking for one of me, and even Paris would be a hard place to find a job. Not to mention the fact that communication is a rather essential part of being a physician, and I know almost no medical terms in French. And I can't understand 90% of what people say to me in French.
Yet.
More than that is the fact that I am not a brave person. While some people have the personality that allows them to quit their job and move to a different country with only a backpack of stuff, I am not one of those people. I crave savings and an emergency fund* and insurance of every kind**. As much as I long for difference, I am also most comfortable with the familiar. The reality for me is that I will likely keep working at the same job until I have enough money saved up to retire early, because I can't imagine leaving the security and the great pay any earlier.
So I guess I have to go home. But I am going to remember this trip and how being surrounded by the sound of people speaking another language feeds some part of my soul that is hungry. I'm going to keep taking French lessons, and I'm going to read every single page of my travel guide as I plan my next adventure. And I'm going to dream of the day when I reach my FIRE number and can choose to never return from my vacation.
*I don't actually have an emergency fund, but I do have money set aside for a down payment on a home that I may never buy. This could be its own post.
**Sort of. I would never insure an electronic gadget or a trip, because I hate throwing money away. This could also be its own post.
Mais Paris? Les boulangeries et les cafés et les beaux musées? Bien sur!
So I booked three weeks off in the Spring, bought myself a travel guide to France, and committed myself to becoming fluent-ish in French before I go. That's why I am here in Quebec City, speaking French poorly and savouring every last minute before le taxi whisks me away to the airport and back to my real life.
Going home feels really hard. This morning I wandered along la rue Cartier, which is only minutes from my Airbnb, and I saw so many places I had wanted to visit but couldn't because of lack of time. So many pain au chocolats that I didn't get to eat. As I sat in a café drinking the best coffee I've ever had in my life, I wanted desperately to be able to stay.
As much as I love my home city and all of the people there, I am realizing that I really want to live elsewhere. Not only for a week, but for long enough to really know a place. To try every restaurant and wander every street and speak the language so much that I start to think in it. I want to immerse myself in newness and difference long enough for it to become familiar.
Unfortunately, I haven't exactly chosen a career that makes this possible. I am very subspecialized, making my job market very small. There is no mid-sized town in France that is looking for one of me, and even Paris would be a hard place to find a job. Not to mention the fact that communication is a rather essential part of being a physician, and I know almost no medical terms in French. And I can't understand 90% of what people say to me in French.
Yet.
More than that is the fact that I am not a brave person. While some people have the personality that allows them to quit their job and move to a different country with only a backpack of stuff, I am not one of those people. I crave savings and an emergency fund* and insurance of every kind**. As much as I long for difference, I am also most comfortable with the familiar. The reality for me is that I will likely keep working at the same job until I have enough money saved up to retire early, because I can't imagine leaving the security and the great pay any earlier.
So I guess I have to go home. But I am going to remember this trip and how being surrounded by the sound of people speaking another language feeds some part of my soul that is hungry. I'm going to keep taking French lessons, and I'm going to read every single page of my travel guide as I plan my next adventure. And I'm going to dream of the day when I reach my FIRE number and can choose to never return from my vacation.
*I don't actually have an emergency fund, but I do have money set aside for a down payment on a home that I may never buy. This could be its own post.
**Sort of. I would never insure an electronic gadget or a trip, because I hate throwing money away. This could also be its own post.
Sunday, May 8, 2016
Cairo
It took three flights, almost 24 hours, and a small meltdown in the Frankfurt airport, but my girlfriend and I are now comfortably settled in an apartment in the Heliopolis neighbourhood of Cairo. The two days since we arrived have been devoted to seeing as many people as possible (my girlfriend lived in Cairo for three years and, being an extrovert unlike me, left behind a long list of people who love and miss her), adjusting to the seven hour time difference, and challenging the defences of our gastrointestinal tracts with street foods. Shawarma...mmmm...
As we were waiting in the airport in our home city, we ran into our accountant, who was waiting to fly to his vacation home in Phoenix. The girlfriend and I were already in vacation mode, eating hot dogs and deciding which of the many ebooks we had downloaded to read first, while the accountant was surrounded by his computer and cell phone and stacks of papers. When he saw us, he quickly picked up his phone to call the Canada Revenue Agency about an issue with my tax return, and after speaking with someone, he called over to me to let me know that he had resolved the issue. His voice was eager, like a child seeking praise. "Look at me! I'm on vacation but I'm still working for you! Aren't I great?"
And then he chatted with us about where we were going and how long we were going to be away. When I told him that we were traveling for three weeks, and that I had left all of my work at the hospital, a momentary flash of disgust passed over his face. He recovered quickly, but he still made it clear that he didn't approve of my prolonged absence. "Three weeks? No doctor goes away for three weeks! That's crazy!"
Which it shouldn't be. When I am at work, I work very hard, often giving up lunches to finish paperwork and coming in early so that I can fit in another urgent patient. So why on Earth should I have to apologize to my accountant about wanting to take some time away for myself? Why does medicine (and North American society as a whole) fetishize work so much that people are viewed as weak or as failures if they choose to do anything other than work?
I refuse to apologize for not wanting to give my entire life to medicine. The further I get into my career, the more I realize I'm going to have to fight the dominant culture of medicine in order to take time for myself, but I'm prepared to do that. Life outside of medicine is too sweet to squander it all simply to meet other people's expectations of me.
As we were waiting in the airport in our home city, we ran into our accountant, who was waiting to fly to his vacation home in Phoenix. The girlfriend and I were already in vacation mode, eating hot dogs and deciding which of the many ebooks we had downloaded to read first, while the accountant was surrounded by his computer and cell phone and stacks of papers. When he saw us, he quickly picked up his phone to call the Canada Revenue Agency about an issue with my tax return, and after speaking with someone, he called over to me to let me know that he had resolved the issue. His voice was eager, like a child seeking praise. "Look at me! I'm on vacation but I'm still working for you! Aren't I great?"
And then he chatted with us about where we were going and how long we were going to be away. When I told him that we were traveling for three weeks, and that I had left all of my work at the hospital, a momentary flash of disgust passed over his face. He recovered quickly, but he still made it clear that he didn't approve of my prolonged absence. "Three weeks? No doctor goes away for three weeks! That's crazy!"
Which it shouldn't be. When I am at work, I work very hard, often giving up lunches to finish paperwork and coming in early so that I can fit in another urgent patient. So why on Earth should I have to apologize to my accountant about wanting to take some time away for myself? Why does medicine (and North American society as a whole) fetishize work so much that people are viewed as weak or as failures if they choose to do anything other than work?
I refuse to apologize for not wanting to give my entire life to medicine. The further I get into my career, the more I realize I'm going to have to fight the dominant culture of medicine in order to take time for myself, but I'm prepared to do that. Life outside of medicine is too sweet to squander it all simply to meet other people's expectations of me.
Sunday, March 20, 2016
Why I Continue to Live the Frugal(ish) Life
One of the best people I met during my fellowship training was our Educational Coordinator, S*. S is slightly older than I am** and married later in life, so she could empathize with me during both the single-career-woman-looking-for-love and the single-career-woman-falling-in-love stages of my training. She was also a huge advocate for me and the other fellow, which was invaluable in dealing with a system that was often indifferent and occasionally blatantly hostile to its trainees. When I finally finished my training, one of the few things that made me sad was no longer working with her on an almost daily basis. (Everything else was bliss.)
While I liked S from the very beginning, I really bonded with her after I abandoned my spendy ways and started living more frugally. She would stop at my desk to chat fairly regularly, and one day we got talking about money after she caught me binge reading the great Mr. Money Mustache. It turned out that she had learned to be frugal while living as a single person, and she'd carried that approach into married life, such that she and her husband currently live off a single income and bank the second one for retirement. Over the remaining months of my fellowship, we talked regularly about the freedom that comes from living well below your means and about all the sources of happiness that don't require money. In a financial sense, she and I clicked.
Which is why I was surprised the other day when I ran into her in the hallway, and she asked me "Are you getting used to living like an attending now?" Her assumption, like everyone else's, was that I had abandoned frugal living as soon as my first fee-for-service patient entered my clinic. In reality, for anyone who is curious, I'm living on almost exactly the same budget as I did during fellowship***, and every additional dollar I earn is either getting saved or applied to my debt. Which makes many people (my accountant, my financial advisor, my spendthrift physician friends) ask me "Why?" They point out, quite legitimately, that I could afford to be more liberal with my spending and to buy a house and a car that doesn't have a giant chunk out of its rear end. They simply don't get why I keep living like a fellow despite my attending's salary.
For me, the answer is easy: choice. As long as I am in debt, as long as I am spending most or all of the money that I earn, then I have to keep working long hours as a physician. If I buy the big house and the fancy car, then I'm always compelled to earn a high income to pay for them. Which isn't so bad now, when I'm fresh from training and still somewhat keen, but who knows how I'll feel in 10 or 20 years. Maybe I'll want to stop working full time and take three-day weekends every week. Maybe I'll be sick of my subspecialty and want to retrain in another field. Maybe I'll burn out altogether and want to move to the West Coast to smoke pot. Who knows? All that I know is that saving money now, and living on less, means that I can practice medicine because I choose to, not because I have to.
Even in the short-term, frugality makes life better. I can work at an inner city clinic, where I earn slightly less ridiculous amounts of money than I would at a tertiary care centre, because I don't have to maximize my salary at the expense of my happiness. I can say no to extra weekends of call, even though I usually don't****. I can sleep better at night knowing that I'm within a few months (maybe as little as two?) of having a legitimately positive net worth, even without counting my car. All of this is way better than a $30 bottle of wine or a $200 dinner out.
And let's be honest: I'm really just pretending to be frugal. I'm not living a Frugalwoods life of 10-cent rice and bean lunches over here. I'm living off of more than the average family in my city. I'm traveling to the Middle East in May, and I'm going out for Korean food tonight, and I'm buying weekend passes to our local music festival instead of volunteering. As my accountant said recently, I'm living a "relatively modest" life. It's only in comparison to the crazy excesses of many doctors that my life is in any way frugal. And for that, I'm very lucky.
*I'm so creative with the names. You're welcome.
**5 years? 10? 15? I'm terrible at guessing ages.
***I added $200 per month to my travel budget, because we love to travel and have some big trips planned this year, and I threw a bit of money at my budget to make up for the Great November Debacle so that I wouldn't have to spend a year recovering.
****That will happen once I hit a positive net worth.
While I liked S from the very beginning, I really bonded with her after I abandoned my spendy ways and started living more frugally. She would stop at my desk to chat fairly regularly, and one day we got talking about money after she caught me binge reading the great Mr. Money Mustache. It turned out that she had learned to be frugal while living as a single person, and she'd carried that approach into married life, such that she and her husband currently live off a single income and bank the second one for retirement. Over the remaining months of my fellowship, we talked regularly about the freedom that comes from living well below your means and about all the sources of happiness that don't require money. In a financial sense, she and I clicked.
Which is why I was surprised the other day when I ran into her in the hallway, and she asked me "Are you getting used to living like an attending now?" Her assumption, like everyone else's, was that I had abandoned frugal living as soon as my first fee-for-service patient entered my clinic. In reality, for anyone who is curious, I'm living on almost exactly the same budget as I did during fellowship***, and every additional dollar I earn is either getting saved or applied to my debt. Which makes many people (my accountant, my financial advisor, my spendthrift physician friends) ask me "Why?" They point out, quite legitimately, that I could afford to be more liberal with my spending and to buy a house and a car that doesn't have a giant chunk out of its rear end. They simply don't get why I keep living like a fellow despite my attending's salary.
For me, the answer is easy: choice. As long as I am in debt, as long as I am spending most or all of the money that I earn, then I have to keep working long hours as a physician. If I buy the big house and the fancy car, then I'm always compelled to earn a high income to pay for them. Which isn't so bad now, when I'm fresh from training and still somewhat keen, but who knows how I'll feel in 10 or 20 years. Maybe I'll want to stop working full time and take three-day weekends every week. Maybe I'll be sick of my subspecialty and want to retrain in another field. Maybe I'll burn out altogether and want to move to the West Coast to smoke pot. Who knows? All that I know is that saving money now, and living on less, means that I can practice medicine because I choose to, not because I have to.
Even in the short-term, frugality makes life better. I can work at an inner city clinic, where I earn slightly less ridiculous amounts of money than I would at a tertiary care centre, because I don't have to maximize my salary at the expense of my happiness. I can say no to extra weekends of call, even though I usually don't****. I can sleep better at night knowing that I'm within a few months (maybe as little as two?) of having a legitimately positive net worth, even without counting my car. All of this is way better than a $30 bottle of wine or a $200 dinner out.
And let's be honest: I'm really just pretending to be frugal. I'm not living a Frugalwoods life of 10-cent rice and bean lunches over here. I'm living off of more than the average family in my city. I'm traveling to the Middle East in May, and I'm going out for Korean food tonight, and I'm buying weekend passes to our local music festival instead of volunteering. As my accountant said recently, I'm living a "relatively modest" life. It's only in comparison to the crazy excesses of many doctors that my life is in any way frugal. And for that, I'm very lucky.
*I'm so creative with the names. You're welcome.
**5 years? 10? 15? I'm terrible at guessing ages.
***I added $200 per month to my travel budget, because we love to travel and have some big trips planned this year, and I threw a bit of money at my budget to make up for the Great November Debacle so that I wouldn't have to spend a year recovering.
****That will happen once I hit a positive net worth.
Sunday, March 13, 2016
Goals - Looking Back at February and Ahead to (What's Left of) March
This post is a little late. I've been scrambling a bit to catch up on everything that didn't get done while I was in Montreal, and I've been feeling a lot of end-of-winter blahs, so the blog has been a bit neglected.
I set three goals for myself for February: Work out three days a week; go see the psychiatrist, and go out with friends/family twice a week. How did it go, you ask?
Recycled February goal: Go to the gym three days a week.
Nope. Didn't happen. I went a few times at the beginning of the month, and then sleeping in seemed more appealing than exercise (as it always does), and I stopped. I think I've hit the dreaded point where I no longer believe that I can be successful at this goal, so I'm not even making an effort. I'm not sure what it's going to take for me to get exercising again, but I do genuinely want to find a way to make this a regular part of my life. I commented to my girlfriend yesterday that I'm happier and more relaxed when I exercise, and she looked at me as if I'd just said that the sky is blue and responded "Um. Yes."
Second February goal: Don't chicken out and skip the assessment with the psychiatrist.
With this, I was fully successful. Not only did I go to the initial assessment, but I also went to three follow up appointments to convince him that there wasn't something seriously wrong with me and that I just wanted some help learning better coping skills. (Aside: I have never been asked about drinking, drug use, and suicidal thoughts as many times as I was in those four sessions with the psychiatrist. Apparently physicians only seek help when things are terribly wrong, and I'm a bit of an anomaly for wanting some preventative mental health care.) Having passed the psychiatrist's test, I'm now awaiting the availability of a psychologist who will do some cognitive-behavioural therapy with me.
At some point, I will write a whole post about my experiences with this and about physician mental health in general, but today is not that day. For the thoughts of another soon-to-be physician on this subject, check out Kay's blog Premed Post-Mom.
Third February goal: Spend time with people I love. At least twice a week. The girlfriend doesn't count.
Yes! I did this*! Apparently if I set fun goals for myself, like go out for dinner with my favourite people, I can achieve them. Over the course of February, I did the following:
This goal was a good one for me, as it reminded me that, as much as I love my girlfriend and her people, I get something unique from spending time with my people. My family and my long-term friends know me and love me in a way that my girlfriend's people don't, and that connection and understanding are central to my happiness. As an introvert, I am more than able to meet my need for time spent with other people through my girlfriend and her extroverted social life, but it is still important for me to maintain my own social contacts.
The main downside to this goal was that it completely wiped me out. In addition to the activities that I did with my people, I also spent a lot of time with the girlfriend and her people, and it was simply more than this fragile introvert could handle. By the end of the month, all I wanted was time in my pjs on the couch with my cats. Which is pretty much how I've spent all my free time in March so far. Also...all of the eating out was expensive. My eating out budget is usually ridiculously high, but in February it was about 50% beyond what it usually is.
March's really vague, non-SMART goal:
For a while I was thinking of not setting a goal for March, as I'm mostly just feeling tired and in need of a break, but then I came up with something that I think I can do even in my tired state, which is kind of, but not really, a goal.
In March, I want to make more of an effort to recognize what I need and to meet those needs.
(See? Vague.)
For essentially all of my medical training, I didn't think much about what I wanted or needed. There was always a long list of things that I absolutely had to do, so I just focused on getting them done, regardless of how happy or unhappy I was doing them. Thankfully, things are different now, and I have much more flexibility to do the things that are important and life-giving to me. Or, on a smaller scale, to simply do the things that make me calmer and happier from moment to moment.
While I could've tried to make this a defined goal, I've intentionally left it nebulous because the things that I need vary from day to day. Some days I need to retreat from the world and be with my cats, while other days I need to socialize and connect with the people I love. Some days I need to be stingy with my budget and save for the future, while other days I need to be self-indulgent and enjoy the results of my hard work. Some days I need to work less so that I can get enough rest and relaxation, while other days I need to work more so that I can get shit done and stop stressing about it. Different days, different needs.
I'll let you know how it turns out.
*Technically I only did seven things instead of the eight that would be required to have gone out exactly twice per week, but I'm still counting this as a success. In part because I achieved the spirit of the goal, and in part because one of my friends bailed on dinner plans at the last minute, so I can blame her for falling slightly short of eight.
I set three goals for myself for February: Work out three days a week; go see the psychiatrist, and go out with friends/family twice a week. How did it go, you ask?
Recycled February goal: Go to the gym three days a week.
Nope. Didn't happen. I went a few times at the beginning of the month, and then sleeping in seemed more appealing than exercise (as it always does), and I stopped. I think I've hit the dreaded point where I no longer believe that I can be successful at this goal, so I'm not even making an effort. I'm not sure what it's going to take for me to get exercising again, but I do genuinely want to find a way to make this a regular part of my life. I commented to my girlfriend yesterday that I'm happier and more relaxed when I exercise, and she looked at me as if I'd just said that the sky is blue and responded "Um. Yes."
Second February goal: Don't chicken out and skip the assessment with the psychiatrist.
With this, I was fully successful. Not only did I go to the initial assessment, but I also went to three follow up appointments to convince him that there wasn't something seriously wrong with me and that I just wanted some help learning better coping skills. (Aside: I have never been asked about drinking, drug use, and suicidal thoughts as many times as I was in those four sessions with the psychiatrist. Apparently physicians only seek help when things are terribly wrong, and I'm a bit of an anomaly for wanting some preventative mental health care.) Having passed the psychiatrist's test, I'm now awaiting the availability of a psychologist who will do some cognitive-behavioural therapy with me.
At some point, I will write a whole post about my experiences with this and about physician mental health in general, but today is not that day. For the thoughts of another soon-to-be physician on this subject, check out Kay's blog Premed Post-Mom.
Third February goal: Spend time with people I love. At least twice a week. The girlfriend doesn't count.
Yes! I did this*! Apparently if I set fun goals for myself, like go out for dinner with my favourite people, I can achieve them. Over the course of February, I did the following:
- Took my nieces to see a play about Harriet Tubman
- Organized a gathering of medical friends to try out a local restaurant promotion
- Drove to the country to visit my bff from medical school
- Went to my Mom's house for dinner and to help her move furniture
- Went to dinner and the theatre with my Mom
- Met up with a friend from grad school in Montreal
- Breakfast at a shitty new restaurant with my Mom
This goal was a good one for me, as it reminded me that, as much as I love my girlfriend and her people, I get something unique from spending time with my people. My family and my long-term friends know me and love me in a way that my girlfriend's people don't, and that connection and understanding are central to my happiness. As an introvert, I am more than able to meet my need for time spent with other people through my girlfriend and her extroverted social life, but it is still important for me to maintain my own social contacts.
The main downside to this goal was that it completely wiped me out. In addition to the activities that I did with my people, I also spent a lot of time with the girlfriend and her people, and it was simply more than this fragile introvert could handle. By the end of the month, all I wanted was time in my pjs on the couch with my cats. Which is pretty much how I've spent all my free time in March so far. Also...all of the eating out was expensive. My eating out budget is usually ridiculously high, but in February it was about 50% beyond what it usually is.
March's really vague, non-SMART goal:
For a while I was thinking of not setting a goal for March, as I'm mostly just feeling tired and in need of a break, but then I came up with something that I think I can do even in my tired state, which is kind of, but not really, a goal.
In March, I want to make more of an effort to recognize what I need and to meet those needs.
(See? Vague.)
For essentially all of my medical training, I didn't think much about what I wanted or needed. There was always a long list of things that I absolutely had to do, so I just focused on getting them done, regardless of how happy or unhappy I was doing them. Thankfully, things are different now, and I have much more flexibility to do the things that are important and life-giving to me. Or, on a smaller scale, to simply do the things that make me calmer and happier from moment to moment.
While I could've tried to make this a defined goal, I've intentionally left it nebulous because the things that I need vary from day to day. Some days I need to retreat from the world and be with my cats, while other days I need to socialize and connect with the people I love. Some days I need to be stingy with my budget and save for the future, while other days I need to be self-indulgent and enjoy the results of my hard work. Some days I need to work less so that I can get enough rest and relaxation, while other days I need to work more so that I can get shit done and stop stressing about it. Different days, different needs.
I'll let you know how it turns out.
*Technically I only did seven things instead of the eight that would be required to have gone out exactly twice per week, but I'm still counting this as a success. In part because I achieved the spirit of the goal, and in part because one of my friends bailed on dinner plans at the last minute, so I can blame her for falling slightly short of eight.
Sunday, September 13, 2015
Money Stress
I spend far too much time thinking about money.
At work, I keep track of every one of my patient encounters, ostensibly to ensure that I'm correctly billing for my work, but in reality as a way of monitoring exactly how much I'm earning. When spending money, I record every transaction in my iPhone budget and then check to see how much money is left. At home, I check my bank account, my monthly budget, and my net worth statement over and over and over again.
It's becoming unhealthy.
On the surface, it seems like the motivation behind this is good - I want to live below my means so that I can be back to a positive net worth by the end of 2016. Looking deeper, however, it's clear that there are other, less positive, driving forces. The main one is fear. I'm afraid that something will happen to me before I'm able to repay my debt and I won't be able to support myself. I'm afraid that I won't have enough money for retirement. I'm afraid that I'll always have to watch my spending and will never be able to stop thinking about my budget.
There's also shame. From the time I was a child, I was a person who saved money. I saved for my first camera; I saved for university; I saved for my first car. Prior to starting medical school, my only debt ever had been a small line of credit from my undergraduate degree, which was paid off within a few months of starting graduate school and getting a regular paycheque. The monstrosity that is my medical school debt (over $210,000 at its worst) looms over me like a reminder of my past sins. I hate that it's there, and I hate that I'm responsible for how out of control it got by the end.
So. How do I stop obsessing about money? The first step is clearly to acknowledge that I am okay. I'm employed. I'm earning a good income. I'm taking steps to save for retirement and repay my debt. As long as I earn the amount that has been very conservatively estimated for my income*, which I have been from the very beginning, then I can keep my current budget and be out of the red by the end of next year. I also have a girlfriend with a stable job who would do everything possible to make sure I was okay (we were okay) if something happened. I am okay.
The second step is to stop thinking about it so bloody much. While I need to have some awareness of my finances, I don't need to know the precise details on a minute by minute basis. To this end, I'm restricting how much I can look at my financial information. Once a day, I can access my spreadsheet of income to enter my billings for the day. I can look at my iPhone budget only when I'm entering a purchase. And I can only look at my monthly budget and net worth statement once per week on Sunday mornings when I'm doing paperwork. No more checking my net worth every few hours to make sure it's still okay.
I'm hoping that stepping back from my finances will make me happier. My goal, ultimately, is to put my finances on autopilot so that I can focus on the much more interesting business of living this wonderful life that I am blessed to have.
*I'm working fee-for-service, so my income is entirely determined by how much I work. Which doesn't help with my anxiety.
At work, I keep track of every one of my patient encounters, ostensibly to ensure that I'm correctly billing for my work, but in reality as a way of monitoring exactly how much I'm earning. When spending money, I record every transaction in my iPhone budget and then check to see how much money is left. At home, I check my bank account, my monthly budget, and my net worth statement over and over and over again.
It's becoming unhealthy.
On the surface, it seems like the motivation behind this is good - I want to live below my means so that I can be back to a positive net worth by the end of 2016. Looking deeper, however, it's clear that there are other, less positive, driving forces. The main one is fear. I'm afraid that something will happen to me before I'm able to repay my debt and I won't be able to support myself. I'm afraid that I won't have enough money for retirement. I'm afraid that I'll always have to watch my spending and will never be able to stop thinking about my budget.
There's also shame. From the time I was a child, I was a person who saved money. I saved for my first camera; I saved for university; I saved for my first car. Prior to starting medical school, my only debt ever had been a small line of credit from my undergraduate degree, which was paid off within a few months of starting graduate school and getting a regular paycheque. The monstrosity that is my medical school debt (over $210,000 at its worst) looms over me like a reminder of my past sins. I hate that it's there, and I hate that I'm responsible for how out of control it got by the end.
So. How do I stop obsessing about money? The first step is clearly to acknowledge that I am okay. I'm employed. I'm earning a good income. I'm taking steps to save for retirement and repay my debt. As long as I earn the amount that has been very conservatively estimated for my income*, which I have been from the very beginning, then I can keep my current budget and be out of the red by the end of next year. I also have a girlfriend with a stable job who would do everything possible to make sure I was okay (we were okay) if something happened. I am okay.
The second step is to stop thinking about it so bloody much. While I need to have some awareness of my finances, I don't need to know the precise details on a minute by minute basis. To this end, I'm restricting how much I can look at my financial information. Once a day, I can access my spreadsheet of income to enter my billings for the day. I can look at my iPhone budget only when I'm entering a purchase. And I can only look at my monthly budget and net worth statement once per week on Sunday mornings when I'm doing paperwork. No more checking my net worth every few hours to make sure it's still okay.
I'm hoping that stepping back from my finances will make me happier. My goal, ultimately, is to put my finances on autopilot so that I can focus on the much more interesting business of living this wonderful life that I am blessed to have.
*I'm working fee-for-service, so my income is entirely determined by how much I work. Which doesn't help with my anxiety.
Sunday, August 16, 2015
Habits - Work
It's the evening before I return to work, and my feelings are alternating between excited and distraught and absolutely terrified. It definitely feels like time to go back (there is almost nothing left on my to-do list), but at the same time I'm dreading the first day. I start with a busy clinic and I'm on home call for the first 12 days, so it won't be an easy return. But I can do this.
Right?
I'm hoping that, if I start off on the right foot, I can set myself up for long-term success. With that in mind, here are a few of the work habits that I hope to cultivate from the very beginning. For those of you who work in medicine, is there anything else you'd add? Any advice? (Or just reassurance that I will not in fact spontaneously combust during my first clinic tomorrow?)
Record Billing Information as it Happens:
This seems like a rather greedy thing to be thinking/talking about, but the reality is that I'll be paid fee-for-service, so if I don't bill for things, I don't get paid. While I have no intention of exaggerating my billings (I spent three minutes talking to the patient...so that counts as 30 minutes of counselling), I do want to get paid fairly for the work I do. The best way of achieving that is to document things as I go along so that I don't miss patient encounters or forget about things like phone calls and letters and family meetings.
Finish my Dictations Every Day:
So many of the other attendings (can I really say other?) have offices filled with charts and are constantly lamenting how far behind they are with dictations. Which means so much unnecessary stress! When I've been on clinic rotations in the past, I've been successful at keeping up with my dictations on a daily basis, and I plan to do the same as an attending. It just takes discipline, as well as remembering how much longer it takes to dictate on a patient I saw two weeks ago than on a patient I saw earlier in the day.
Devote Time and Energy to Teaching:
Most of my work will be in a teaching hospital, meaning that I'll have medical students and residents and fellows working with me most of the time. As a recent trainee, I know how frustrating it is to work hard and do all of the scut work without getting some teaching in return. Even though I find teaching challenging and sometimes stressful, I plan to make it a priority to do some of it every day that I have a learner on my service. I also plan to take on some of the teaching opportunities (small group sessions, lectures, etc.) that are always understaffed as a way of giving back to the medical school that got me to where I am today. The bonus of teaching is that it's a great way of keeping up my own skills (and getting some Continuing Medical Education credits so that I can keep my license).
Read for at Least Three Hours per Week:
Medicine changes. Every day, I get emails from journals about all of the articles that I should be reading. In order to keep up with at least part of the giant fire hose of medical knowledge, I plan to set aside three, one-hour reading sessions every week.
Research:
This is worthy of a post all its own. I don't even know what to say here. I have a few research projects that I'm interested in pursuing, but I have no funding, time, or salary to support research. Soooo.....we'll just have to see where this one ends up. I had hoped to have this figured out by the end of my vacation, but not so much.
Put Patient Care Above Other Considerations:
This is more a work philosophy than a habit, but I think it's important to always remember that my patients are real people, with hopes and fears and people who love them and lives outside of my clinic room. Their outcomes are more important than how much I bill or what time I leave work at the end of the day. While I do want to earn a good living (pay off debt!) and have a life outside of medicine, those goals can never be at the expense of providing good patient care.
Right?
I'm hoping that, if I start off on the right foot, I can set myself up for long-term success. With that in mind, here are a few of the work habits that I hope to cultivate from the very beginning. For those of you who work in medicine, is there anything else you'd add? Any advice? (Or just reassurance that I will not in fact spontaneously combust during my first clinic tomorrow?)
Record Billing Information as it Happens:
This seems like a rather greedy thing to be thinking/talking about, but the reality is that I'll be paid fee-for-service, so if I don't bill for things, I don't get paid. While I have no intention of exaggerating my billings (I spent three minutes talking to the patient...so that counts as 30 minutes of counselling), I do want to get paid fairly for the work I do. The best way of achieving that is to document things as I go along so that I don't miss patient encounters or forget about things like phone calls and letters and family meetings.
Finish my Dictations Every Day:
So many of the other attendings (can I really say other?) have offices filled with charts and are constantly lamenting how far behind they are with dictations. Which means so much unnecessary stress! When I've been on clinic rotations in the past, I've been successful at keeping up with my dictations on a daily basis, and I plan to do the same as an attending. It just takes discipline, as well as remembering how much longer it takes to dictate on a patient I saw two weeks ago than on a patient I saw earlier in the day.
Devote Time and Energy to Teaching:
Most of my work will be in a teaching hospital, meaning that I'll have medical students and residents and fellows working with me most of the time. As a recent trainee, I know how frustrating it is to work hard and do all of the scut work without getting some teaching in return. Even though I find teaching challenging and sometimes stressful, I plan to make it a priority to do some of it every day that I have a learner on my service. I also plan to take on some of the teaching opportunities (small group sessions, lectures, etc.) that are always understaffed as a way of giving back to the medical school that got me to where I am today. The bonus of teaching is that it's a great way of keeping up my own skills (and getting some Continuing Medical Education credits so that I can keep my license).
Read for at Least Three Hours per Week:
Medicine changes. Every day, I get emails from journals about all of the articles that I should be reading. In order to keep up with at least part of the giant fire hose of medical knowledge, I plan to set aside three, one-hour reading sessions every week.
Research:
This is worthy of a post all its own. I don't even know what to say here. I have a few research projects that I'm interested in pursuing, but I have no funding, time, or salary to support research. Soooo.....we'll just have to see where this one ends up. I had hoped to have this figured out by the end of my vacation, but not so much.
Put Patient Care Above Other Considerations:
This is more a work philosophy than a habit, but I think it's important to always remember that my patients are real people, with hopes and fears and people who love them and lives outside of my clinic room. Their outcomes are more important than how much I bill or what time I leave work at the end of the day. While I do want to earn a good living (pay off debt!) and have a life outside of medicine, those goals can never be at the expense of providing good patient care.
Saturday, August 15, 2015
Ooops
On day 19/21 (yesterday), I somehow forgot to write a blog post. I spent my day finishing off Barbara Kingsolver's "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle", after which I rushed to get takeout shawarma and pick up my girlfriend from work in time to go to an outdoor movie in a local park. Amidst all the fun, I forgot entirely about blogging.
Now that the 21 days of consecutive blogging are almost finished, I'm forced to address the question of "What next?". On the upside, over the past few weeks I've felt much more engaged with the blog, and I've found myself drafting posts in my head while doing dishes and other tedious activities. I've also written a few posts that I've been happy with, including parts one and two of my thoughts on money, as well as my post about so-called road bump opiates. On the downside, it's been difficult some days to find the time to blog, and I've often found myself crawling out of bed after 11 PM to whip off a quick (and often uninspired) post. Some of my worst posts ever have resulted from this forced writing.
I may keep up with the daily blogging for a while just to see where it goes, or I may revert to blogging less frequently. While the ideal blogging frequency is probably less than daily, I worry that if I lose the regular habit I may stop doing it at all. Which would be a loss for me - I love the record of my thoughts and activities, the feedback from commenters (even if I don't always find the time to respond), and the sense that I'm perhaps sharing something that will be useful to the next generation of medical students/residents.
I guess we'll see. If you're a blogger, how do you balance regular blogging with all the other things going on in your life? For everyone - what would you like to see from this blog as I start life as an attending?
Now that the 21 days of consecutive blogging are almost finished, I'm forced to address the question of "What next?". On the upside, over the past few weeks I've felt much more engaged with the blog, and I've found myself drafting posts in my head while doing dishes and other tedious activities. I've also written a few posts that I've been happy with, including parts one and two of my thoughts on money, as well as my post about so-called road bump opiates. On the downside, it's been difficult some days to find the time to blog, and I've often found myself crawling out of bed after 11 PM to whip off a quick (and often uninspired) post. Some of my worst posts ever have resulted from this forced writing.
I may keep up with the daily blogging for a while just to see where it goes, or I may revert to blogging less frequently. While the ideal blogging frequency is probably less than daily, I worry that if I lose the regular habit I may stop doing it at all. Which would be a loss for me - I love the record of my thoughts and activities, the feedback from commenters (even if I don't always find the time to respond), and the sense that I'm perhaps sharing something that will be useful to the next generation of medical students/residents.
I guess we'll see. If you're a blogger, how do you balance regular blogging with all the other things going on in your life? For everyone - what would you like to see from this blog as I start life as an attending?
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Patience and Forgiveness
Because nothing says vacation like dealing with your finances, I spent most of my morning today figuring out a strategy for getting myself to a positive net worth*. Ever since I started budgeting, I've been haunted by the negative on my balance sheet and desperate to get back into the black.
The good news about my strategy session is that I figured out that I can be back to a positive net worth in just 16 months, thanks to having lots of room to invest in an RRSP (Registered Retirement Savings Plan, the Canadian equivalent of a 401(k)). The bad news is, it's going to take me 16 months. Which literally feels like forever.
It's hard at times to forgive myself for the financial mistakes that I've made in the past. There is absolutely no way that I could have made it to this point debt-free, but I know that my burden of debt could have been much less if I'd been more careful with my spending. And it's even harder to be patient, to refrain from adding more call shifts and more patients to each clinic just to bring my bank balance up.
I have to remind myself, on pretty much a daily basis, that it took me eight years to get to this point. 16 months is entirely doable for getting rid of it. I just need to breathe.
*My goal is to increase my assets beyond the level of my debt, rather than to pay off the debt itself, because interest rates are currently so low.
The good news about my strategy session is that I figured out that I can be back to a positive net worth in just 16 months, thanks to having lots of room to invest in an RRSP (Registered Retirement Savings Plan, the Canadian equivalent of a 401(k)). The bad news is, it's going to take me 16 months. Which literally feels like forever.
It's hard at times to forgive myself for the financial mistakes that I've made in the past. There is absolutely no way that I could have made it to this point debt-free, but I know that my burden of debt could have been much less if I'd been more careful with my spending. And it's even harder to be patient, to refrain from adding more call shifts and more patients to each clinic just to bring my bank balance up.
I have to remind myself, on pretty much a daily basis, that it took me eight years to get to this point. 16 months is entirely doable for getting rid of it. I just need to breathe.
*My goal is to increase my assets beyond the level of my debt, rather than to pay off the debt itself, because interest rates are currently so low.
Thursday, July 30, 2015
What I Have Learned About Money - Part Two
Continuing on from yesterday, here are two more things that I've learned over the past ten months.
Money can buy freedom:
When looking towards my future, I had always just assumed that I would follow the traditional path of working until I'm 65. It didn't occur to me that there was any other option. But then I started reading the frugal blogs, and I realized that there is a whole group of people out there who are saving enough money to retire much earlier, often in their 30s. And while the really early retirement boat has clearly sailed in my case (I'm 38), it is encouraging to think that I could reach the point where I'd be able to retire well before the age of 65.
Not that I necessarily would. I like my work, and I get a lot of my meaning in life from helping other people, so I don't feel any urgency to get out of the working world. But it would be nice to have that option, in case my feelings about my job change in the future or (god forbid) I become unable to work before I'm 65.
Even now, I can see ways in which having money and living frugally increase my choice and satisfaction related to my job (and therefore my life as a whole). Part of my new position, which starts in mid-August, will be to work at an inner city clinic treating residents of the area. When this job opportunity became available, I was ecstatic, because I've spent a lot of time working in that clinic, and I think the work they do is incredible. I want to be a part of that clinic. But when I discussed the job opportunity with other attendings, many of them pointed out that I would make less money there than at a more conventional clinic. Some even suggested that I turn the position down.
Which is ridiculous. I've worked hard for 16 years in order to do work that I enjoy and that fulfills me, not to suck every penny I can out of the medical system. Living below my means lets me make that choice.
Sometimes it is still better to spend money than to save it:
NOLA commented on my previous post that she has "always been frugal but willing to splurge". After all of my talk about the benefits of being frugal, I think it's important to point out that I'm the same way; I still spend (probably way too much) money on things that are not absolutely necessary but that make my life better. I still get my apartment cleaned every week, even though it's the largest single variable expense in my budget, because without it I would live in squalor. I recently bought a new storage unit and ottoman tohide organize the clutter essential items that I couldn't get rid of in my recent apartment purge. My second largest variable expense in my budget is still eating out, because it's the easiest way of getting together with my friends, and I value my relationships with them more than most other things.
For me, living frugally isn't about constantly saying no to myself or living a life of deprivation. It's really about being conscious of my spending and eliminating unnecessary things (like bland cafeteria food) so that I can become more financially secure and create more choice for myself. Because I never want to turn down a job that I love just so that I can make a few more dollars.
Money can buy freedom:
When looking towards my future, I had always just assumed that I would follow the traditional path of working until I'm 65. It didn't occur to me that there was any other option. But then I started reading the frugal blogs, and I realized that there is a whole group of people out there who are saving enough money to retire much earlier, often in their 30s. And while the really early retirement boat has clearly sailed in my case (I'm 38), it is encouraging to think that I could reach the point where I'd be able to retire well before the age of 65.
Not that I necessarily would. I like my work, and I get a lot of my meaning in life from helping other people, so I don't feel any urgency to get out of the working world. But it would be nice to have that option, in case my feelings about my job change in the future or (god forbid) I become unable to work before I'm 65.
Even now, I can see ways in which having money and living frugally increase my choice and satisfaction related to my job (and therefore my life as a whole). Part of my new position, which starts in mid-August, will be to work at an inner city clinic treating residents of the area. When this job opportunity became available, I was ecstatic, because I've spent a lot of time working in that clinic, and I think the work they do is incredible. I want to be a part of that clinic. But when I discussed the job opportunity with other attendings, many of them pointed out that I would make less money there than at a more conventional clinic. Some even suggested that I turn the position down.
Which is ridiculous. I've worked hard for 16 years in order to do work that I enjoy and that fulfills me, not to suck every penny I can out of the medical system. Living below my means lets me make that choice.
Sometimes it is still better to spend money than to save it:
NOLA commented on my previous post that she has "always been frugal but willing to splurge". After all of my talk about the benefits of being frugal, I think it's important to point out that I'm the same way; I still spend (probably way too much) money on things that are not absolutely necessary but that make my life better. I still get my apartment cleaned every week, even though it's the largest single variable expense in my budget, because without it I would live in squalor. I recently bought a new storage unit and ottoman to
For me, living frugally isn't about constantly saying no to myself or living a life of deprivation. It's really about being conscious of my spending and eliminating unnecessary things (like bland cafeteria food) so that I can become more financially secure and create more choice for myself. Because I never want to turn down a job that I love just so that I can make a few more dollars.
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
What I Have Learned About Money - Part One
As the completion of my training approached, I noticed that people began asking me a lot of the same questions.
"Are you going to buy a house?"
"Are you going to buy a new car?"
"Where are you going to travel during your vacation?"
"How are you going to reward yourself for finishing?"
The message being that, now that I'm a "real" doctor, I can (should?) start spending like one. Looking at my Facebook feed over the past few years, it's obvious that many of my classmates have taken that approach since completing residency, as they've posted pictures of giant new homes and fancy cars and trips to exotic locations (usually complete with shopping at designer boutiques and eating in pricy restaurants*).
If you had asked me a year ago, I probably would have told you that my plans for post-training were similar. I was definitely dreaming about owning my own home (which in my mind would miraculously not require any repairs or maintenance), and I could think of many places to which I wanted to travel and restaurants in which I wanted to eat. But then came the unexpected work crisis, followed by the adoption of a budget. While the initial motivation for putting myself on a budget was purely practical (eliminate crippling debt!), sticking to a budget over time (and reading lots of great frugal blogs) has taught me a lot of unexpected things about money and my relationship to it.
Money isn't necessary to have fun (and can sometimes make things less fun):
Prior to the "great budget experiment", I did mostly the same three things for entertainment (eating in restaurants, going to movies, sitting in coffee shops/pubs). While I enjoy all of these things and haven't stopped doing any of them entirely, there was a certain monotony to how I entertained myself. With the introduction of the budget, I had to get creative in order to have fun without spending much (or ideally any) money. Some of the things I've done for fun in the last year include potlucks (brunch, supper, appetizers), volunteering at a music festival (free tickets!), volunteering at a theatre festival (more free tickets!), free walking tours of my city, free movies in a local park, cycling (with a discarded bike that my girlfriend repaired for me), reading library books, attending free lectures at a local bookstore, and going to a snake pit to watch snakes mate (perfect activity for a nerd like me). While all of these free/inexpensive activities were available to me before, having the constraint of a budget made me actually look for them. I've enjoyed the new variety, and I've met a lot of interesting people through volunteering whom I never would've met otherwise.
More things make me less happy:
The message is everywhere (tv, magazines, websites) that having more things will make us happier (and more fulfilled/more successful/more desirable). Since starting a budget ten months ago, I've bought almost no things for myself (a bike helmet was probably my largest purchase), and I honestly haven't felt like I'm missing anything. I've also done a major purge of my apartment and gotten rid of about 10 garbage bags worth of stuff, and it feels wonderful to be free of so much clutter. Having fewer things allow me to hang my jacket in the hall closet instead of over the back of a chair, to open cupboards without canned food falling on my head, and to actually find my bloody keys when I go looking for them in the morning. Life is better with less stuff.
It's easy to waste a lot of money:
Pre-budget, I was stopping at Starbucks on most days (sometimes twice), buying all of my lunches at work, and getting takeout whenever I was bored/tired/in a hurry/feeling like celebrating/not interested in the food in my fridge. I was easily spending hundreds of dollars a month on convenience items, all of which was being paid for with credit. I've cut out all of these things pretty much entirely (I still spend $1.70 on tea from Tim Horton's on work days), and I barely even notice.
There are more things that I've learned about money, which will have to wait for another day, as it's time to change out of my sweatpants (yay vacation!) and go pick up my girlfriend.
How have your thoughts/feelings about money changed over the years?
*Okay, I'll admit it: I love eating in pricy restaurants. I will make a major splurge on a celebratory dinner once I get my first paycheque, and I will enjoy every bite and sip of it because it's been so long since I've visited my favourite restaurant.
"Are you going to buy a house?"
"Are you going to buy a new car?"
"Where are you going to travel during your vacation?"
"How are you going to reward yourself for finishing?"
The message being that, now that I'm a "real" doctor, I can (should?) start spending like one. Looking at my Facebook feed over the past few years, it's obvious that many of my classmates have taken that approach since completing residency, as they've posted pictures of giant new homes and fancy cars and trips to exotic locations (usually complete with shopping at designer boutiques and eating in pricy restaurants*).
If you had asked me a year ago, I probably would have told you that my plans for post-training were similar. I was definitely dreaming about owning my own home (which in my mind would miraculously not require any repairs or maintenance), and I could think of many places to which I wanted to travel and restaurants in which I wanted to eat. But then came the unexpected work crisis, followed by the adoption of a budget. While the initial motivation for putting myself on a budget was purely practical (eliminate crippling debt!), sticking to a budget over time (and reading lots of great frugal blogs) has taught me a lot of unexpected things about money and my relationship to it.
Money isn't necessary to have fun (and can sometimes make things less fun):
Prior to the "great budget experiment", I did mostly the same three things for entertainment (eating in restaurants, going to movies, sitting in coffee shops/pubs). While I enjoy all of these things and haven't stopped doing any of them entirely, there was a certain monotony to how I entertained myself. With the introduction of the budget, I had to get creative in order to have fun without spending much (or ideally any) money. Some of the things I've done for fun in the last year include potlucks (brunch, supper, appetizers), volunteering at a music festival (free tickets!), volunteering at a theatre festival (more free tickets!), free walking tours of my city, free movies in a local park, cycling (with a discarded bike that my girlfriend repaired for me), reading library books, attending free lectures at a local bookstore, and going to a snake pit to watch snakes mate (perfect activity for a nerd like me). While all of these free/inexpensive activities were available to me before, having the constraint of a budget made me actually look for them. I've enjoyed the new variety, and I've met a lot of interesting people through volunteering whom I never would've met otherwise.
More things make me less happy:
The message is everywhere (tv, magazines, websites) that having more things will make us happier (and more fulfilled/more successful/more desirable). Since starting a budget ten months ago, I've bought almost no things for myself (a bike helmet was probably my largest purchase), and I honestly haven't felt like I'm missing anything. I've also done a major purge of my apartment and gotten rid of about 10 garbage bags worth of stuff, and it feels wonderful to be free of so much clutter. Having fewer things allow me to hang my jacket in the hall closet instead of over the back of a chair, to open cupboards without canned food falling on my head, and to actually find my bloody keys when I go looking for them in the morning. Life is better with less stuff.
It's easy to waste a lot of money:
Pre-budget, I was stopping at Starbucks on most days (sometimes twice), buying all of my lunches at work, and getting takeout whenever I was bored/tired/in a hurry/feeling like celebrating/not interested in the food in my fridge. I was easily spending hundreds of dollars a month on convenience items, all of which was being paid for with credit. I've cut out all of these things pretty much entirely (I still spend $1.70 on tea from Tim Horton's on work days), and I barely even notice.
There are more things that I've learned about money, which will have to wait for another day, as it's time to change out of my sweatpants (yay vacation!) and go pick up my girlfriend.
How have your thoughts/feelings about money changed over the years?
*Okay, I'll admit it: I love eating in pricy restaurants. I will make a major splurge on a celebratory dinner once I get my first paycheque, and I will enjoy every bite and sip of it because it's been so long since I've visited my favourite restaurant.
Monday, July 27, 2015
21 Days
I had expected my vacation to be laid-back and leisurely, with an abundance of time for sleeping in and reading and doing whatever in the world I wanted to do. Not so much. Until now, I've kept myself busy with house and work tasks, with volunteering at our local music festival, and with attending way too many shows at our local Fringe (theatre) Festival. It has been wonderful to have a change from work, but the time has still felt too busy, and I've often caught myself complaining to the girlfriend about being tired*.
All of that is about to change. The festivals are over, the majority of the house/work tasks have been completed, and I have an almost completely empty schedule for the last 21 days of my vacation. Day one of this phase of vacation has so far consisted of sleeping in, eating homemade Mexican breakfast and kale smoothies with the girlfriend, watching Master Chef, and trying to satisfy Hobbes's insatiable need for cuddles.
My "plan" for this last stretch of holidays is to just....be. To not have a long list of things to do**. To not constantly rush from one place to the next. To not obsessively plan every moment or worry that I'm not making effective use of my time. To stop being the busy, stressed out person that medicine turned me into and be the relaxed, happy person that I used to be.
My hope is that, if I can remember how to focus on enjoying life instead of just getting through it, I can carry some of that knowledge forward into the next year. I know that my first year as an attending is going to be a hard one, and that I will be stressed and overworked more often than I want to be, but I really don't want to hate it. I want to remember to breathe and be present and take time. To enjoy this stage that I worked so, so hard for 16 years to reach.
To just be.
*Note to self: It isn't wise to complain to your girlfriend who works on her feet for eight hours a day about being tired while you're on vacation. Her sympathy is very limited. And she will expect you to rub her feet as penance.
*The one "goal" that I am setting for myself is to blog daily for the next 21 days. I have missed the act of regularly writing here, and I have a seemingly constant stream of ideas for blog posts running through my head, so I want to get back into the habit of writing while I have an excess of time. If there's anything you want to know about me or my experiences as a physician/a previously single person/a queer person/a theatre groupie, leave me a comment and let me know. I'm sure I'll be looking for some blog fodder by the time the 21 days are up!
All of that is about to change. The festivals are over, the majority of the house/work tasks have been completed, and I have an almost completely empty schedule for the last 21 days of my vacation. Day one of this phase of vacation has so far consisted of sleeping in, eating homemade Mexican breakfast and kale smoothies with the girlfriend, watching Master Chef, and trying to satisfy Hobbes's insatiable need for cuddles.
Why aren't you cuddling me?
My "plan" for this last stretch of holidays is to just....be. To not have a long list of things to do**. To not constantly rush from one place to the next. To not obsessively plan every moment or worry that I'm not making effective use of my time. To stop being the busy, stressed out person that medicine turned me into and be the relaxed, happy person that I used to be.
My hope is that, if I can remember how to focus on enjoying life instead of just getting through it, I can carry some of that knowledge forward into the next year. I know that my first year as an attending is going to be a hard one, and that I will be stressed and overworked more often than I want to be, but I really don't want to hate it. I want to remember to breathe and be present and take time. To enjoy this stage that I worked so, so hard for 16 years to reach.
To just be.
*Note to self: It isn't wise to complain to your girlfriend who works on her feet for eight hours a day about being tired while you're on vacation. Her sympathy is very limited. And she will expect you to rub her feet as penance.
*The one "goal" that I am setting for myself is to blog daily for the next 21 days. I have missed the act of regularly writing here, and I have a seemingly constant stream of ideas for blog posts running through my head, so I want to get back into the habit of writing while I have an excess of time. If there's anything you want to know about me or my experiences as a physician/a previously single person/a queer person/a theatre groupie, leave me a comment and let me know. I'm sure I'll be looking for some blog fodder by the time the 21 days are up!
Saturday, March 21, 2015
Saturday Night Reflections
Sometimes I'm an idiot.
I know from almost 38 years of living as myself that I don't enjoy being overly busy. I can handle a lot of busy - I've survived four years of medical school and five years of residency - but my preference is always for a slower, more manageable pace. Which is why it was idiotic of me to 1) arrive home after being away for five weeks at 8 PM the night before I had to go back to work; 2) agree to do call the weekend after I returned; and 3) agree to adjudicate an exam all Saturday while also on call. Add to this the fact that I have three presentations to give over three weeks, and life has been too busy lately. And I've been a miserable grouch of a person as I've struggled to do too many things in too little time.
All of these things could've been avoided. I could've (and should've) taken a stat day off after returning from holidays to unpack the car and wash the massive amounts of laundry. I could've switched my weekend of call. I could've said that, no, it isn't worth giving up a weekend day to earn a little bit of money when I'll be a full-blown attending in a few months. But I'm an idiot.
I need to remember this when I start working as an attending this summer. I need to remember that I need sleep, and time to clean my apartment, and quality time with my girlfriend. And all of these things are more important than earning a bit more money, no matter how big my line of credit may still be*.
Remind me of this when I'm tempted to say yes to an extra weekend of attending call.
*I've got a post brewing about the massive line of credit from hell. Stay tuned.
I know from almost 38 years of living as myself that I don't enjoy being overly busy. I can handle a lot of busy - I've survived four years of medical school and five years of residency - but my preference is always for a slower, more manageable pace. Which is why it was idiotic of me to 1) arrive home after being away for five weeks at 8 PM the night before I had to go back to work; 2) agree to do call the weekend after I returned; and 3) agree to adjudicate an exam all Saturday while also on call. Add to this the fact that I have three presentations to give over three weeks, and life has been too busy lately. And I've been a miserable grouch of a person as I've struggled to do too many things in too little time.
All of these things could've been avoided. I could've (and should've) taken a stat day off after returning from holidays to unpack the car and wash the massive amounts of laundry. I could've switched my weekend of call. I could've said that, no, it isn't worth giving up a weekend day to earn a little bit of money when I'll be a full-blown attending in a few months. But I'm an idiot.
I need to remember this when I start working as an attending this summer. I need to remember that I need sleep, and time to clean my apartment, and quality time with my girlfriend. And all of these things are more important than earning a bit more money, no matter how big my line of credit may still be*.
Remind me of this when I'm tempted to say yes to an extra weekend of attending call.
*I've got a post brewing about the massive line of credit from hell. Stay tuned.
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