Death Of A Mixtape
It started with a simple notification pinging through on my phone. It was the first thing I saw that morning – credit karma alerted me that one of my accounts closed. But not just any account: my very first credit card. I laid in my bed stunned, and several emotions flicked through me, roughly resembling the stages of grief.
In this process, I thought back to when I got my first lil credit card; I was a freshman in college and realized I had to start laying the foundation if I wanted to be fully independent and successful and secure – things that were top of mind by necessity at that point in my life. I picked out the cassette tape design; it was just so perfectly cute, and I loved to make mixtapes at the time (spotify was only just gaining popularity). The credit limit was $500 – perfect for me on my student earnings.
My grandma was still alive when I got that credit card. A lifetime ago. I could see the mix of pride and fear in her eyes – my family had always struggled with making ends meet and tended to accumulate debt. She sent me off with a “don’t ever spend more than you have and always pay it all off every month.” It took me years to violate this advice, but I eventually did. We always start out knowing the ideal way to do things, the way we want things to go, but then life happens. Despite this, I invested years of careful spending, which bloomed into spending limit and credit score increases. And now, with this notification, it seems like the stories and life propelled by this card had ended.
After trying in vain to revive my precious mixtape, I conducted a post-mortem. I’m not the kind of person who can simply accept what’s done is done – I have to know why it happened and meticulously comb through the details. Upon basic inspection, I realized two full years had passed since the last time I used that card. I can clearly see this account fell off my radar and out of my life view a while ago.
If I’m being honest, I stopped using my card because the bank sent me a new one once my original mixtape played its last song (lol, it expired); the replacement was a horrendous, plain blue with only the bank name adorning its plastic sheen. So boring, no personality, and so not a fit for me. I immediately wanted to make this work, so I checked to see if I could design a new card and pick my trusty mixtape but noooope: the design was no longer offered. Essentially, my interaction and relationship with the card changed from that point; it was no longer a joyful experience but rather turned into a true transaction.
Life moved on, and I spent my money in a different way, leaving the not-a-mixtape somewhere I will probably only stumble upon if I ever move one day. Over time, my neglect compounded, and I found myself in the situation today: without warning, this staple in my life, this piece of my history and security that had been there so long, was gone. Logically, I had to expect this – was it fair to keep this card waiting around for the day I’d pick it up and treasure it again?
I mean first off YES, that card should absolutely have waited around for me eternally: it’s an inanimate object! But my post-mortem taught me this is about more than a credit card: this is a serial offense, a pattern in my life. How many other parts of life do I take to be everlasting and not expect to change? And how do I respond when things do change in a way that I don’t like?
For my card, a quick warning notification from the bank would have been nice, but life isn’t really like that – relationships don’t always give you a “hey text me this month or we are going to drift apart forever” kind of heads up. And sometimes relationships just don’t offer the design you want upon renewal. I logically know these things will change, and that I will change in turn, but I don’t ever really think about how they could bold italics underline change.
Eventually, things end. And that is ok and can be a very good thing; things naturally conclude, and we don’t need to keep them on life support in vain. If we did that, new things could never bloom and grow. Our metaphorical soil can’t support the same stuff over and over in endless cycles! People change, relationships change. We evolve.
I say this all knowing that I don’t deal with change or letting go easily. But it’s something I now see as foundational to how I need to care for myself moving forward. By being honest about my needs and speaking up for myself, I can lead the rich life I want to live. I can intentionally cultivate my own garden of life, rather than having the pruning done for me (RIP mixtape). Thinking about and framing it this way helps me feel excited about my relationships and any change they may weather (to an extent at least, lol, baby steps).
I’ve happily landed at a place of acceptance today, a few weeks after learning about the death of my mixtape. Although I will still miss its cuteness on the daily, it taught me something bigger. I’d expect nothing less from the product of my first big adult decision. It will be the gift that keeps on giving and has been immortalized for me through its passing.
PS: but really tho, just put $5 on your credit card every few months so they don’t just close it on you. Your credit score (and your mind) will thank you.
