Credit card debt is not cool at all. It's calm, heavy, and very personal. Mine started out small, with just a few purchases here and there that I promised myself I would pay off quickly. A ticket to a concert, a new work laptop, and a few bills that came up out of the blue. At first, it seemed like it would be easy. But then life got in the way.
The work slowed down. My rent went up. And before I knew it, I had a $14,000 balance on three different cards, no real plan, and a sinking feeling in my chest every time I got a statement in the mail. The interest alone felt like a punishment.
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I would pay the minimum amount or a little more every month, but the balance hardly changed. It was like trying to get water out of a sinking boat with a plastic cup. I didn't spend money carelessly. I didn't have enough extra money in my life to handle unexpected expenses, so I used credit cards as a safety net.
The problem was that I stayed in survival mode for too long. No one tells you how emotional it is to get out of debt. Of course, the numbers matter, but the hardest part isn't just making the payments.
It's dealing with the shame. It's like looking at a balance and wondering, "How did I let this happen?" It's the tenth time you've told yourself that this will be the month you change things. It's hard to deal with the silence because most people don't talk about it.
We just carry it and smile through it. I didn't get to my turning point because of a sudden windfall or a magical way to budget. It came from being completely honest for a short time. One night, I sat on the floor of my flat with a bunch of unopened envelopes around me and told myself that I was tired.
Not just in terms of money, but also in terms of feelings. I was sick of not using my bank app. I'm sick of being scared every time I swipe my card. Tired of acting like everything was fine when it clearly wasn't. I made a choice. I was going to act like this debt was a big deal, because it was.
And to be free, I had to do what I had been putting off for years. I had to deal with the numbers. I wrote down every balance, interest rate, and minimum payment I had. The total was overwhelming, but seeing it all in one place made it real. From there, I came up with a plan that was both practical and emotional.
Stopping the bleeding was the first thing to do. I ripped up one card completely and put the others in a container of water in the back of my freezer to freeze. That may sound like a lot, but it worked. I needed space. I also promised myself that I wouldn't add any more money to my debt, no matter how bad things got.
That promise gave me strength. Next, I picked a way to pay it back. I chose the avalanche strategy, which means you pay off the debt with the highest interest rate first and then the rest. It made more sense in terms of maths, and I wanted to make the most of every dollar.
I began writing down every payment in a notebook, not on a computer. That made it feel like progress was real. I would colour in boxes, write little notes, and even celebrate when I reached small goals. That notebook helped me stay motivated when I lost it.
But once again, the numbers weren't the hardest part. It was the discipline. Saying no to things that I could technically afford but that I knew would set me back. Seeing friends go on trips while I stayed home. Saying no to dinners out, cancelling subscriptions, and finding happiness in free or cheap options.
It made me feel small. It felt like punishment at times. But I told myself every day that this time of year wouldn't last. I also did some small side jobs that weren't too fancy. I sold clothes online, did some freelance work, and even delivered groceries on the weekends. Every extra dollar went right to debt.
It wasn't pretty, and it didn't happen right away. But I felt better every time I paid. My balance started to go down slowly. I can still remember the day it fell below $10,000. I cried in my kitchen. Not because I was debt-free, but because I finally thought it was possible. It took me a little over two years to pay off the whole $14,000.
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Two years of dedication, errors, changes, and growth. I didn't throw a party or post about it online when I made the last payment. I just sat there in silence and let myself feel proud. Not having debt wasn't the real victory. It was all the things I made along the way. The routines. The ability to wait. The trust in oneself.
Getting out of debt taught me how to put off getting what I want, how to solve problems, and most importantly, how to take responsibility without feeling bad about it. You are not broken if you are in debt right now. You don't have a problem with money.
You're not the only one. Having debt doesn't mean you're a bad person. It's a situation that you can change, even if it takes time. The hardest part isn't keeping your balance. It's having faith that you can change your story.
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