We’ve Fallen into the Mother of All Traps — Getting Out Will Change Your Life
By: Kitiara Pascoe
Tags: Inspiration, Responsibility, Life Lessons, Life, Self Improvement

Good things happen to those who wait. A degree will get you a good job. It’ll all work out for the best…Right?

I read an article the other day that reassured Millennials about their horrifying average savings situation by telling that they weren’t alone. That a huge percentage of people their age were also living hand-to-mouth with no savings and no property.

That was the end of the article. Don’t worry, you’re not the only one.

Of course, this sentiment is reassuring. It’s nice to know that other people have the same problems as you purely so you don’t feel alone in it.

But what concerned me so much about the article was that it seemed to be offering that sentiment as a solution. As in, it’s fine if you have no savings because lots of other people don’t either. So don’t worry, carry on as usual.

This is dangerous thinking.

It allows you to justify inaction because you are simply part of the new normal. It’s normal to have no savings, it’s normal to watch your weight creep towards obesity and it’s normal to spend 8–12 hours sat down a day.

And if you’re normal, why change?

Seeking out others who share your issues is nothing new. But one of the primary reasons for doing this is because no one person can know everything. So if you increase the information available to you, you’ll save time and effort trying to get the solutions. The easiest way to do this is to talk to people who have experience, or are experiencing, the same problems as you.

Talking to them can highlight false paths, inadequate solutions and misinformation. You can use each other’s experiences to guide your own. Sharing information and experience is power, it’s how humans have progressed.

But when we seek out others purely to wallow together instead of coming up with solutions to our mutual problems, no one progresses. The only benefit to that is having company around the bonfire when we’re all destitute at 70.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

A question of responsibility

This behaviour is something I’ve found myself indulging in time and time again. This shirking of responsibility. And I see it all the time.

‘It’s not my fault, it’s the government’s.’

‘It’s not my fault, it’s my parents’.’

‘Tons of people have this problem so it’s fine.’

‘No one told me, I didn’t know.’

To an extent, all of those statements might be true. But it doesn’t actually help you. Blaming advertising for overspending isn’t wholly inaccurate but it also won’t help you pay off your credit card.

Your heart isn’t going to magically stay healthy because you’ve told it that it’s not your fault you never exercise and sit down all day every day — it’s because you have to work in an office and drive everywhere.

No one is going to give you a free place to live at 65 because you’ve told them it’s not your fault you didn’t get on the property ladder. It’s the fault of the housing market, the second-home owners, the financial crash.

The only thing these refrains offer is a temporary relief from the panic. But that relief is an illusion. The problems still remain, regardless of how many of your peers are in the same boat.

Photo by James Owen on Unsplash

Finding a way out of the pit

One of the reasons why we love handing responsibility for our lives and problems over to others is that coming up with solutions is hard and actioning them is even harder.

But the problem with avoiding things because they’re hard is that they will almost always get to a stage where you have to deal with them. And by then, it’ll be even harder.

The first time a lot of people suddenly realise that they need to take responsibility for their lives is upon graduation. The government is no longer sending you chunks of money every quarter. Instead, they’re sending you statements with mounting interest.

Maybe someone told you years back that having a degree would get you a ‘good job’. But it turns out that your £30,000+ piece of paper doesn’t actually have the ability to get you a good job and, ironically, sometimes stops you from getting a job that gets you by because you’re overqualified and the manager knows you won’t stick around.

But whose responsibility is it for you to get a job? It doesn’t lie with the government, it doesn’t lie with the university’s career department and it doesn’t lie with your parents. It’s all yours.

Photo by Venveo on Unsplash

For many years I didn’t think long term. I graduated, got a series of low-paying jobs and was reasonably happy because I could just about pay my rent and eat.

I worked freelance while I travelled for a few years, making enough to keep going but never enough to justify a savings account.

Then, somehow, I turned 30. I realised that while I’d been talking about crazy houses prices and the probable-non-existence of the state pension in 40 years with friends for a long time, I’d never actually done anything about it. I’d always just assumed that it would be fine.

What? Where did this assumption come from? Did I really believe that the government would unquestioningly look after its 70+million people until death? Provide them with shelter and money for food?

The welfare state is young, only a little over a hundred years old. Before that? Life expectancy was half what it is now. Half. An enormous elderly population wasn’t such a huge problem because it literally didn’t exist.

So I don’t know where I got the impression that my safety and health would be still be protected when I’m 70 from. Because as the population of our little island grows, the situation is, frankly, unprecedented. The government doesn’t even seem to be sure how they’re going to fund potholes, let alone a pension deficit.

Instead of looking after my own finances with a long-term view, I’d handed the responsibility of future-me over to the government, a future partner and to an extent, my parents. I’d often thought, ‘if this doesn’t work out then I can just go and live with them.’

But it’s not just money or security that we shirk the responsibility about. What about health? The gym is too expensive, it’s too cold, I’m too tired, it’s too late, it’s too early.

I read a tweet the other day where someone complained that healthy food is more expensive than junk food and it was ‘unfair’. Vegetables, lentils and beans are some of the cheapest food available in the world. Water too, is relatively cheap and if you’re not on a meter, you’re already paying for it.

Time and time again, we shirk responsibility for our actions. A common protestation is that it’s a lack of education. And again, that’s most likely very accurate to some extent. But the vast majority of us have access to the internet and the ability to exponentially increase our educations.

So it’s not that we don’t know how to eat healthily on the cheap — it’s that we’re not seeking out the knowledge. We’re letting junk food ads and the McDonald’s Saver Menu do the work for us. Even though deep down, we all know that adverts are not the best source of unbiased information. They do not have our best interests at heart.

For many years I used alcohol as my primary method of responsibility shirking. Acted like a dick? It was the alcohol. Haven’t achieved anything today? It was the hangover. Need to get a better job? Let’s have a drink first and then think about it.

As the shadow of ignored responsibilities crept up on me, I’d turn to alcohol and keep that shadow at bay for another day, another month, another year. I had no idea this is what I’d been doing until I quit.

Photo by Erik Mclean on Unsplash

Taking back control

I discovered that biggest responsibility I was handing over to alcohol was not the responsibility of shirking all the others. It was my happiness.

Instead of striving for progression in my hobbies, learning new fun things and creating a life that I loved and made me happy, I handed the entire responsibility for my happiness over to alcohol.

Pissed off? Have a drink. Sad? Have a drink. Celebrating? Have a drink. A happy event wasn’t happy if there wasn’t alcohol involved. Our society has set us up for it. And we let it. We let it every single time. Even to say, ‘our society encourages drinking’ as a justification is shirking the responsibility.

When I finally quit drinking, I realised that I’d given up almost all of the activities that had previously made me happy. Soon it became apparent that I needed to work out how to deal with stress too. Because I’d outsourced the responsibility for that to alcohol as well.

It had been such a seductive path. Why go for a run to de-stress when I could have a drink?

But when you start living your life this way- shirking responsibility - you also give up control. You hand over the path your life will take to others who neither know nor care. It might feel easier, because if something goes wrong then you can blame them, but it’s not going to help you in the long run.

Giving up alcohol for me was like switching on a light and discovering that I’d been wilfully sitting in the dark. Now I’ve started taking responsibility for my happiness, everything else has begun to follow.

I know that financial insecurity is something I find stressful. So instead of just complaining about how us Millennials are all a bit fucked, I started educating myself about how to manage my money, protect and grow it. I stopped buying shit I didn’t need and took the responsibility for my spending habits back from adverts and shops.

I quit the job that I knew wasn’t for me. If I wanted to work for myself again then I would have to stop complaining about how hard it is and take responsibility for my career. I mean yeah, it’s hard. But so is learning to walk and most of us nailed that when we were babies.

I haven’t got everything figured out. Not even close. And a big part of taking responsibility for your life is also taking responsibility for your failures.

The aim isn’t to not fail, the aim is surely to live a life you have control over. And being out of control is a hell of a lot scarier than being in control and struggling.

I’m still coming across parts of my life now that I’ve shirked responsibility for. From the most innocuous things to the most important. Like not telling your partner how you really feel. What you really think. I realised that if I don’t tell them that, then I’m shirking my responsibility to our relationship.

It’s often hard to spot when you’ve avoided taking responsibility for something or some aspect of your life. In many ways, we’re horribly conditioned for it. Even encouraged into it. But at the end of the day, only you have your best interests at heart.

So I challenge you to start looking for parts of your life you’re shirking the responsibility for.

And take it back.