🎬 Act Two of My Debt Saga

If student loans were the villain who cornered me in Act One,
credit cards were the shadow lurking in the background—waiting for their cue.

To be fair—student loans did give me one gift:
a shiny credit score. ✨
Which meant that by the time I was old enough to know better,
I was already being trusted with plastic I wasn’t prepared to wield.

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🧨 Phase One: The Reckless Swipe

The first time around, we used them like they were magic.

We were young, overwhelmed, and both drowning in depression.
So we coped with trips we couldn’t afford, board games we didn’t need.
I was chasing distraction.
He was chasing dopamine.
And the cards? They didn’t blink.

Until they did.
Until minimum payments choked the last bit of breathing room from our budget.
Until joy cost more than it gave.

Eventually, we filed for bankruptcy.
And I thought that would be the end of the story.

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🧛‍♀️ Phase Two: The Toxic Reunion

But the economy got worse.
Everything got worse.

And credit cards slithered back in like a toxic ex—
one I knew better than to trust,
but still answered when they called.

This time it wasn’t vacations.
It was groceries. Gas. Toilet paper. Toddler socks. Mac & cheese.
Plastic became my Plan B…
because Plan A didn’t exist.

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🕯️ Glamour Spells & Velvet Gloves

Credit cards market themselves like safety nets.
But they’re not.
They’re glamour spells conjured in boardrooms—illusions dressed in plastic that trick you into believing you’re safe.

Swipe. Tap. Wave.
It feels harmless. Effortless.

Until it isn’t.

Just when you claw back some ground,
they raise your limit—especially when you’re on vacation, already trying to relax while mentally juggling bills.
For a heartbeat, you feel powerful. Trusted.

And then the trap snaps tighter.
More rope. Less air.

Let me be clear: I wasn’t maxing out cards on spa days.
I was trying to keep the lights on.
I was trying to feed my kids.
I was trying to breathe without breaking down in the checkout line.

Credit cards pretended to be the cushion.
They weren’t.
They were concrete in velvet gloves.

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💸 The Pay-In-4 Spiral

When the cards tapped out, the accounts smoldering,
the “Buy Now, Pay Later” ghosts floated in like saviors.

“Only four easy payments!”
“No interest!”
“No fees!”

It felt like a loophole. A kindness. A spell.

But here’s the trick:
They don’t track your other obligations.
They don’t tally up the weight you’re already carrying.
They just keep approving.

Soon, I was juggling $2,000+ a month in little hauntings—
$18 here, $32 there—
a dozen whispers that became a scream.

Affirm? Absolute menace.
They don’t just raise your limit.
They tailor it to the store.
“You’ve never spent more than $200 at Target, but hey—want $4,000 just in case?”

Excuse me? Who needs $4,000 at Target?
A couch and a blood pact?

It’s financial gaslighting in a pastel font.

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🕷️ The Part Where I’m Supposed to Be Better Than This

So here I am again.
Drowning in minimums. Dodging overdrafts.
Stretching every dollar until it snaps like a rubber band across my soul.

And yes—I’m filing for bankruptcy. Again.
Because it’s that, or lose what little stability I’ve fought to keep.

And nothing makes you feel like a failing adult quite like that.

But here’s the thing:
I was doing my best.
And my best got eaten alive by interest, inflation, and a system built to profit from survival mode.

Credit was never meant to save me.
It was built to own me.

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🖤 Final Scene

Signed. Swiped.
Bankrupt, again—

But not broken.
Not bound.
Still here. Still casting. Still mine.