Mountain Climbing For Beginners
Paying all my bills felt impossible. I learned to take it one step at a time.

By Maya Noy

I didn’t choose to move to Philadelphia, it chose me. Fresh out of a group home, I visited a friend in Philly and began a part-time job in a small beauty store. I didn’t plan on staying there long. But it was a cool job to have. I had never had a “real” job before, other than baby-sitting, but my boss was patient, and I caught on fast.

Alone in My New Apartment

The boss and I got along well, so he told me about a studio apartment that was available close by. That changed my life. I took the apartment, agreed to work full time at the beauty store, and went home to get all my stuff from my mother’s house in New York so I could move to Philadelphia.

I remember well that first day that I was really on my own. It was June 2, 1996. I was only 20, with the maturity (or lack of) to prove it. My mother, the U-HAUL driver and I went to my apartment. My mother and the driver dropped off my things—which took about 30 minutes—and then left. I was alone in my own apartment, with a mess of my belongings around me, in a town I didn’t really know.

A rush of overwhelming loneliness hit me very hard and suddenly, and all I could do was stare at my disorganized possessions that reminded me of being home. I couldn’t help but just sit there and cry. Who could I call when I was lonely or bored? Who would I talk to for hours to fill the silence? Long distance calls weren’t cheap back then. Who would I turn to when I needed help? Who would I hang out with on weekends? I was no longer excited by the prospect of being all grown up and independent.

One Step at a Time

Maybe half an hour of crying passed before I realized that I was in the real world now, with no one to wipe my tears but me. So that’s what I did. I made up my mind right then and there to grow up and deal with my new life.

As I unpacked and organized my place, I began to get excited again. I was on my own. No one to tell me what to do or when to come home or how to clean up.

That excitement didn’t last long either. It took me about a week to get my place to look the way I wanted it to. And as I fixed up my apartment, I had to start thinking about food, getting a phone hooked up, finding laundry facilities, opening a bank account so I could save money from my job, and more. And that was only the beginning.

It all seemed so overwhelming at first. I had to learn how to take it one step at a time. That’s advice I would give to anyone just starting out on their own: One step at a time, and it won’t look like such a tall mountain to climb.

I was able to get some start-up money from my mother, I paid back monthly. I budgeted carefully, and tried not to spend money if I didn’t absolutely have to. I saved on transportation expenses since my job was next door, and I wore a uniform to work, so that saved money for clothes. I didn’t get luxuries such as cable, a cell phone, or a car, so I ended up doing fairly well handling my bills. And the rent in Philadelphia wasn’t too high, so I didn’t have to beg, borrow or steal.

Still, I did struggle making sure that I worked enough hours to cover all my expenses—rent, food, electricity and the phone bill. I was always afraid I would get sick, and be out of a day’s pay. If so, I would have had trouble paying for all my expenses that first year, when I hadn’t started saving money yet. But somehow I always managed to keep my head above water. I didn’t get sick and I don’t think there was ever a time I was late with a payment.

Getting the Hang of It

After a few years, I felt like I was getting the hang of paying bills and being on my own.

I didn’t get a credit card, which allows you to spend money you don’t even have as long as you pay back more than you spend. Whenever possible, I washed clothes by hand to avoid the laundromat. So I began to save money here and there.

I still hadn’t made many good friends in my new life, but I didn’t mind. I had gotten used to being alone and I actually liked it. But I did encounter one major problem. That was the heat, which was supposed to come with my apartment. It was the dead of winter, and I was getting no heat at all. And no one cared.

I called the landlord, who agreed to fix it, but never did. I even tried calling the Health Department, but I didn’t see any results there either. I called the Housing Department, but had the worst time getting through. I even tried to get legal assistance, but I was too shy, and had trouble telling my story in a way that people would want to help me. They didn’t have patience for me and how I stumbled over my words. I didn’t know how to get the right person to pay attention to me and solve this problem. I still have an entire stuffed and tattered folder filled with all my efforts to resolve this. None worked.

This problem had me very frustrated, and deeply depressed. And I was freezing. I had pet turtles that died because it was too cold. So I took my landlord to court to give me heat. I was a shy, 20-something female, without legal representation. The judge and my landlord were friends. The result? I had to settle for a space heater (which I had to buy myself) and wear more clothes at night to keep warm.

Eventually the landlord was replaced with a new landlord who is more helpful. I still have problems with the heat now and then, but it’s not as bad. His excuse is, “It’s an old building, so deal with it.” So I do. But I still think about getting justice for the past. (Except I’m still not sure how to go about it.)

Dealing with a difficult landlord and making ends meet on my own, I had to grow up quickly. That’s been good. It’s now seven years and several jobs later since I first moved to Philadelphia. I now do clerical work, like answering phones and typing, at an audio visual company. I have even been making extra money by renting out a room in my new apartment. Now I’m able to save more and more.

All Grown Up

I am also much better at standing up for myself and getting help when I need it. I am still working on learning to express myself. I found that when I feel someone is treating me unfairly (a landlord, a boss, the phone company) it is easier for me to write than to verbally confront someone in person or on the phone. Knowing this about myself helps me get what I need more often. (And sometimes writing works best because no one answers the phone these days.)

Being on your own, there’s always something to overcome, but I have to say that whatever fear I felt at first slowly dissolved. I am proud of myself for being able to survive, and not running home to Mommy. And despite all the things that I went through, I’ve always enjoyed feeling grown up and independent.

In some ways living on your own doesn’t get any easier, but you get so caught up in it, that you don’t even realize how hard it is. It’s like climbing that mountain—if you look at the mountain it feels overwhelming, but if you just focus on the step ahead of you, chances are you’ll get to the top.

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