Bosnak - Save Karyn: one shopaholics journey to debt and back

May 2000

I awoke that morning to a buzzing in my ear.

That Monday my alarm clock woke me up at 7 A.M.

The next week at work was great. I booked some

So let me get this straight, I said to the

On Monday, I called American Express and was delighted to

Despite high hopes, Curtis Court didnt premiere with stellar ratings.

To go along with my New Years resolution, I decided

June 2001

The staff for The Ananda Lewis Show, including myself, started

The next Tuesday, I finally mailed my June rent check

After three months of preparation hell, The Ananda Lewis Show

I woke up Monday morning and just lay in bed

By the beginning of February, I had really hit rock

June 2002

On Wednesday, June 19, I made that sign. I waited

On Monday, June 24, I started in a new position

The momentum that seemed to start the previous week only

I should have realized that the death of Claire was

Every single week since Id started the website, things just

After the Today show appearance, it took me twelve more

While this book is a work of nonfiction, I have made a few changes along the way to protect the privacy of those mentioned. For obvious reasons, I have changed the names of numerous people in the book, as well as altered their descriptions.

In addition to those changes, I have taken certain storytelling liberties to help move the events along, but it has been my intent to stay true to the story as it happened. Enjoy!

H ave you ever made such a mess of things that you were sure there was no way out? Thats basically the story of my life. In June 2002, I was in that position: dead broke and $20,000 in the hole. How did I end up that way? Well, I guess you could say it all started three years earlier, during what I now refer to as the summer I stared at the ceiling.

It was May 1999, and I was twenty-six years old. I was living and working in Chicago. I wasnt unhappy. I was just unfulfilled. I realized that there must be more to life than what I had experienced so far. I was born in Illinois, raised in Illinois, went to school in Illinois, and was working in Illinois. That summer all I did was stare at the ceiling and think. I didnt know who I was. I was the person that my parents raised, but I never felt like my own person. I felt like an extension of them, and an extension of my job. I felt defined by my friends. All I did was stare and think.

At the end of the summer, the conclusion that I came to was this: I had to get the hell out of Illinois. I needed to pack my bags, leave the Windy City, and move to a faraway land. I needed to be alone to figure out exactly who Karyn Bosnak was. And the faraway land that I chose to be alone in wasNew York! I had been there oncefor a day. But I liked it, and I had seen tons of episodes of Friends and Seinfeld , and decided that it was going to be my new home.

The next year all I did was work and save money. Well, I tried to save money, lets just say that, but Ive never been really good in that department. But I saved enough to pay for a one-way plane ticket and an apartment. I had enough for everything, except the movers. I had to charge the movers

M AY 2000

T HE M OVE

I awoke that morning to a buzzing in my ear. My head was throbbing. The night before we had a big party to wrap up the ninth season of The Jenny Jones Show , where I had worked for four years. (No, I wasnt there for the murder, so dont ask.) As desperately as I wanted to leave Chicago, I was sad to say good-bye to all of my coworkers, some of whom I had become very close with throughout the years.

The buzzing stopped and then started up again. I finally realized that it wasnt my alarm clock, but my doorman buzzing my apartment. I got out of bed and went to answer the intercom.

Karyn, its Robert the doorman. Your moms here, a voice said.

Ever since Ive lived alone, Ive had an apartment with a doorman. Its always made me feel safe. Sure, doorman apartment buildings are more expensive, but how can you put a price on safety? This particular apartment was on Oak Streetthe Madison Avenue of Chicago. If you walked straight out the front door of my apartment building, youd hit Barneys. That was good for me, a girl who grew up shopping.

Oh, right. Let her up. I was moving to New York the next morning. My mom was there to help me pack and was planning to stay overnight so she could take me to the airport. It was my last day in Chicago.

I love my mom. But she was part of the reason that I decided to move. Shed do anything for me, and I knew that and always took advantage of it. I was hoping New York would make me feel more independent, so I wouldnt call my mother every minute to ask for her help. Help to me usually meant help with some cash, which meant I spent too much at Marshall Fields and I need help paying the bill. And Mom was always there in that department.

After packing all day, we slept for a few hours before we had to get up and leave for my 6 A.M . flight. I was going to bring some of my clothes with me, and movers were coming to my apartment the following day to pick up the rest of my stuff. The reason for the early flight was that I had a job as a producer for a new court show called Curtis Court and had to be at work at noon the day I arrived.

That morning my mom and I woke up, loaded the car, and drove to the airport in silence. Ive always had this horrible separation anxiety when it comes to my mother. When I was little, I would cry at school because I wanted my mom. My sister, Lisa, who is two years older than me, would have to leave her class and come to help my teacher quiet me down. I also was unable to sleep over at any of my friends houses until I was in fourth grade because again, I would cry at bedtime because I missed my mom. I would fake being sick and have my friend wake her parents up and tell them that I needed to go home. Every time Id attempt a sleep-over, my mom always knew the midnight phone call would come, and would get in her car to come pick me up.

After the twenty-minute ride to OHare, we pulled up to the United Airlines departure terminal. I got out of the car and my mom popped the trunk. The bell cap came over and took my bags out of the back. I had five of them.

You are only allowed to check two bags, he said.

What? Why didnt they tell me that on the phone? I need all of these bags, I said.

Now, I admit that Ive never been a light packer, but I had to have all these bags. My apartment wouldnt be ready for me to move into until two weeks after I got to New York, so I had to bring some of my clothes, purses and shoes with me. And two weeks of clothes meant five suitcases.

Sorry, miss. I cant change the rules.

So, I had to carry on three bags. Three big bags. These were not overnighter-size bags either. They were suitcases.

I turned around and looked at my mother, who was wearing her sunglasses so I wouldnt see her tears, but I knew they were there.

Mom, dont cry! I said. Please dont cry or youll make me cry.

Im sorry, I cant help it. Why wont you let me come in with you? she asked.