12 month loans with bad credit

Ever since I was a child, I have been fascinated by everything that was blingy, shiny, colourful, embroidered and new. A retail store was my heaven, holy place and home; all amalgamated into one. I could live and die in a Gucci store, and be the happiest person on this planet.

In my childhood, I only used to admire the mannequins, but my admiration was unlike any other; it was off the charts. When someone used to ask me what I wanted to become when I grew up, my answer was personified my admiration. I always said that my dream job would be that of being a mannequin on the storefronts. Why? Because that way I would get to wear brand new clothes for every day of my life.

It may seem silly to you, but I was a child back then. So, when I grew up, and finally got a job, my admiration didn't just stay out of the stores, it dragged me inside. I started spending the majority of my money on shopping, and I held back only when just the money for utilities was left.

After that, I waited for the next paycheck to start my spree. You can probably tell I had some problem. I should have been able to understand as well, but the realisation came a little too late.


My mother is also fond of shopping, but of course not as much as me. I have vivid childhood memories of her taking me to shop with her, especially when she was upset. So as the saying goes, like mother like daughter, I developed the same tendency.

I never needed a reason to shop, when I was got upset, I shopped away my entire month's salary in one go, and I never regretted it. I could survive on bread and milk the rest of the month, and who needs food anyway, new clothes, shoes and makeup need to be the priority.

I shopped like a maniac whenever there was the slightest inconvenience or a heartbreaking incident in my life.

When my boss would shout at me for an unfinished work report, I shopped.

When my boyfriend and I fought and stopped talking for a while, I shopped.

When my dog got severely sick and had to be admitted to the hospital, I shopped.

When my colleague, whom I never even talked to, married, I shopped.

When I got my period, I shopped.

After a point, I did not even need a reason. I shopped like every store in the world was going to close for eternity. I had to get everything that was inside.

At least, now I should have realised I had a problem. To pay for my shopping sprees, I had maxed out all my credit cards, and I had taken an advance from my boss, I had even borrowed money from my boyfriend. When I didn't have any other option to pay for my shopping, I took one of those 12 month loans with bad credit. Still, I never thought I had any disorder.

I'll tell you something about the humankind. It takes us a millisecond to point out the flaws of others; however, when we are flawed ourselves, we never believe it; even if the entire universe may say otherwise.


Then came a time when I wished I was dead, but God forbade it. A time so terrible that enduring it took every bit of my willpower. Even so, I am grateful, it came.

On the day of Christmas Eve, late at night, after finishing my last-minute shopping, I was coming home. The area behind my flat is quite deserted that late at night. Three masked men came out of nowhere and attacked me. They hit my head with a rod of some kind. The blow of was so brutal, I saw Lord Jesus. I was out after that. I don't remember the attackers’ faces or what they did to me afterwards.

The next time I woke up, I was in the hospital bed, and it was New Year's Eve. I still don't recall that entire week of my life. I was found in the garbage bin behind my building the day after Christmas, and I was barely breathing by then. My neighbour rushed me to the hospital.

I was beaten so severely that most of my ribs were either broken or cracked, it was so difficult to breathe that every time I took a breath, my body revolted. My face was swollen because of the stitches, and it was different shades of red, purple, green and yellow.

My self-esteem and confidence were at the lowest of my lifetime. I wished that the attackers had just finished me off. However, my nurse told me I was lucky that they did not assault me sexually. I did not think so.

What do you think I did to restore my confidence then? I shopped, I did online shopping for as long as I stayed on bed rest. Once I started walking around on my own, I ventured outside to the stores and shopped some more.

Then came my hospital and credit card bills, and realisation finally struck.


It took an assault and a 25000-pound outstanding bill to make me introspect and see the signs that my lifestyle is not healthy. I needed to seek help. I contacted my parents first because they were my only option. My father, ever the gentleman, did not bat an eye when he paid off my bills.

But this wasn't enough, and I had to change my coping mechanism. I got myself a therapist. I still go and see her twice a week. I also needed someone with me regularly to monitor me and my spendings. So, my boyfriend moved in with me. He was in charge of all my cards. I was only given a measly allowance for the commute to my office and back.

A year after the incident, I feel like I am at a much better place in my life. My boyfriend and I got married two months ago, and I did not even buy a new wedding dress. I wore my mother's dress and cried like a baby throughout the nuptials.

I am a recovering shopaholic and proud of the fact. I am still not confident about keeping a credit card with me. My husband still has them, and he manages my allowance even now. It is not a measly one, but not what an adult at 28 should have either.

For the first time in my life, I have savings. My 12-month loan for bad credit is also fully repaid. I don't have any debt, and my credit score is not miserable.

In the end, I want to say that realising that you have a problem is the first step towards recovery. The next is to seek help, the help of your friends and family. These are the people who will motivate you to leave your addiction behind. Because if I could do it, so can you.

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