As the post dropped through my letterbox, I felt sick. It was the end of 2015 and, for the last few months, opening bank statements had filled me with dread.
At the start of the year, I’d launched my own wedding-planning business, thinking it looked fun and lucrative. I reasoned I’d be able to choose my own hours and work around being a mum to my twin boys, then aged three. And besides, who doesn’t want to think about wedding cakes and dresses all day?
Looking back, I was naive. I’d previously left a job in banking with a reliable salary and stability, and I’d taken a low-paid job as a PA, to do alongside my business. But, back then, I was foolishly confident that I would succeed.
I’d been relentlessly bullied as a child and, after going through a divorce when my kids weren’t even a year old, I’d learnt over the years to stay positive and try my best to make things work.
But, with no savings, that was easier said than done. I turned to credit cards and two big bank loans, again convincing myself it was a good idea, that my company would start to boom and I’d pay it all back. But the debt just kept going up.
While I was spending cash on branding and advertising, there was little money coming in. I had plenty of clients, but I wasn’t adding up my expenses, and I realised I was only making about £1.15 an hour profit. In just under 12 months, I found myself £30,000 in debt.
Growing up poor on a council estate, my family always had debt, so it felt like a miserable fact of life. But even though I’d been in debt before, it was never this much.
LIVING HAND TO MOUTH
Faced with pages and pages full of daunting figures and letters demanding repayments, I began to panic.
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der April 11, 2022-Ausgabe von WOMAN'S OWN.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der April 11, 2022-Ausgabe von WOMAN'S OWN.
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