No. It doesn’t. If anything that statement is just offensive on the grounds you might think I think it does. I have plenty in my life keeping me happy, I’m lucky like that!

But a lack of money? Well that most certainly encourages sadness. Not just sadness; stress, anger, jealousy, panic and even depression. The sight of a bank account with more going out each month than the meager amount going in is a feeling that nobody can be ok with.

Just recently I’ve cried more over hand scrawled calculations than I ever did over an episode of Grey’s. Trying to figure out how to pay the bills, how to feed my child, how to still have something that might, if you squint a bit, resemble a life.

My first reaction at an invite to anything is to decline. No matter how much my heart and gut wants me to do it, my stupid brain steps in with a handful of red letters and slaps me round the face with them. Because no matter what people say, everything costs money.

The worst thing is having to come up with an excuse. Not being able to afford it just won’t cut it I’m afraid, kids. Sure, you’re living of £20 a week but unless you rub your bank statement under their nose they just won’t accept it. You get told it’s a rubbish reason, or offer to lend you money, or promise to keep it cheap because like ohmygod they are soooo skint too right now. The problem is, unless you’ve been in the same situation you don’t realise just how much your well intended comments make me feel like total, utter shit.

A rubbish reason? Oh I know. I wish I had a better reason. Like I was being whisked off on holiday. Or my butler was away that day so I had to try and understand the dishwasher. Or just, you know, I had other plans. Unfortunately that is my reason though. Nothing I can do about that one.

You’ll lend me money? I appreciate that you’re trying to help me out here, really I do. But you have just successfully made me feel 500 times worse about myself. Because not only am I now the friend who ruins everyone’s plans, I’m the one that’s a charity case. So that’s nice. Oh and also I have fuck all idea when or how I’ll be able to pay you back anyway, so better not.

You’re skint too? Ah ok. I thought you might be, that three day bender you went on last week was my first clue. The tweets about your new trainers were my second. And that salad you’re currently eating from Pret really secured it for me. You might be skint in your mind, but you’re skint and considering going out still. Your skint and my skint are very different. You have wages going in next week. I have 33p to last me 9 days.

Money doesn’t buy happiness, of course it doesn’t. But not having money is painful and stressful and completely depressing.

Just maybe think for a second before you moan at your mate for saying she’s too skint to come out next time, yeah? Because it’s definitely killing her to say it.

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