Tag: single mother

We don’t talk about money. Be poor privately please.

Why are the poor poor? Not how did they become poor, but why are they still poor. Have you ever ask yourself that? If you are, or have been, you know why.

Based on the posts I see on social media, the reason is, because that person is either: lazy, entitled, or makes poor choices. Are there lazy and entitled people? Sure there are. But I guarantee 99% of poor people work 10 times as hard as a financially stable person. Their life depends on it. And there are a lot of people that make poor choices, I being one of them. But unless your poor choice is gambling away your family savings or working for the mob, most poor people’s bad choices are buying a pair of jeans or going out for drinks. Not quite what I would consider worthy of a lifetime struggle to provide for your family.

Why am I bringing this up? Because I’m a poor person trying very hard to obtain what others tell me I could get if I just worked harder. I’m trying reach that goal you told me I’m not entitled to, that I have to work for. What is that goal? To have a place to live of my own and to be able to feed my children and pay my bills without worry or anxiety.

I receive SNAP. Because I’m below the poverty line. Does that make you uncomfortable? If you don’t know me I’m sure it doesn’t. If you know me personally I’m sure you feel quite uncomfortable knowing that about me. I once had a family member harass me on a Facebook post. He was convinced that the reason I am struggling HAS TO BE because I deserve it. I’m an entitled millennial who wants everything handed to me. I deleted him off my Facebook and had myself a good cry. Where has he been the last 10 years? I am not a quiet person. I do not bottle things inside. I am very honest and open about the good and the bad in my life. Why is my struggle making him so angry? It’s my struggle. I’m not angry. I love sharing my struggle so that others can know and feel hopeful. He was legitimately angry. Zero compassion.

Then someone said something to me that put it in perspective. “Of course he is angry. And of course he is blaming you. Because if he admits you’ve done everything you were supposed to and you are a good person, and are still suffering, then he would have to also admit that he stood by as you suffered for years and never offered you a hand of help.”

Holy crap. I used to always wonder why we didn’t talk about money. From a young age it was instilled in me that you never ask how much someone makes. And you don’t talk about how much you make. I remember asking, why we can’t talk about it. I was told it was because people that don’t make as much might get jealous and angry. It was to protect those who deserve their income from people who didn’t deserve it and wanted it.

Poor people don’t care if you know how much they make. I’ve had perfect strangers mention how much their check was in casual conversation. Poor people are not uncomfortable with talking about money. Whatevs. I’m broke but I needed some Chipotle. See, every single thing we do revolves around money. Like, if I buy the good toilet paper, will I have the gas to get my kids to school? Which bill can I be late on so I can replace my kids ripped school pants? We’re not handling our money with our sights set on vacation spots or the best investments. We’re trying to find a way to make sure we don’t have to eat peanut butter and jelly or cereal for dinner for the next week.

You know what would save me a lot of money? Being able to buy a house. My entire life has been at a standstill for the last year because the house I live in is unlivable. If I move my rent will be double to triple what it is now. It is not possible.

Poor people can’t buy houses. Not because they can’t afford them. Because the system is set up in a way to keep them poor.

I do not have a great credit score. To even have a chance at obtaining a mortgage I need 10% down. So let’s say I work for that goal. The houses in my area that I would be ideal for my family are about $150,000. But I don’t need ideal. I’m sure if I looked around and waited I could find something that makes do for about $100,000. So I need $10,000 to buy a house. With my current income I know I could save $100 a month. So that means in 8 years I could buy a house. If I lived extra poor I could probably save $200 a month. Then I could buy a house in 4 years. Do you see the problem? That means I still have to live in this shithole house with my four children until they are raised.

Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that I can save $500 a month. That’s only a year and a half. Buuuuuut. I receive Food Stamps. About $500 a month. And the second my assets exceed $2,250, I do not qualify anymore. So 5 months in, I wouldn’t be able to afford to save anymore. (2 years into my 8, 1 year onto my 4).

Why are the poor poor? Because unless someone steps in and knocks down the societal hurdles, we don’t have a choice. Why do poor people buy lottery tickets? Because there’s a better chance of winning the money to help pull them out of poverty than there is to do it by hard work. Why do the poor buy cups of coffee and get tattoos instead of saving? Because what’s the point? Do you have any idea how helpless that feeling is? Then you feel guilty and ashamed when judgmental eyes look at your $50 tattoo and tell you that THAT is the reason you and your children deserve to suffer. You feel like you need to justify the $10 Goodwill Coach purse you carry because others see it and believe you’re exaggerating your circumstance. You’re either lying, or deserve it.

The rich want to believe that the poor are poor because they deserve it. Because if they acknowledged what it really is, they also have to admit that they’re okay with thriving while others are unfairly suffering. And that makes them uncomfortable. So it’s easier to just blame.

I am poor. My kids play sports, go to a private school, have new clothes and shoes at the beginning of the school year, and none of it was provided by me. Because I have people in my life that saw the value of my children and said, “I want to help”. My eyes swell up with tears when I think about what I would do if I didn’t have kind people in my life. Because I know you’re out there. All you that are suffering without a support system. I want to help you so bad. I want somebody to help you. I feel your pain, I feel your anxiety. I am so sorry we live in a country where you are demonized and told you deserve to suffer. You do not deserve to suffer. Your kids do not deserve to suffer. You deserve so mich better than this.

Why are the poor poor? If you are not poor, you need to be okay with being uncomfortable and do something. You need to stop blaming and start asking how you can help. Perpetual poverty happens when you can’t afford the necessities. Do you feel the Necessities in life a privilege or a right? Do you believe that someone’s financial circumstance equates their worth? Your complacency is hurting people.

A “no” is the first step toward a “yes”

“Beth. People want to help. People like to give. You need to put yourself out there and let those who can, help you.”

Variations of this statement have been said to me year after year. Is it my pride that makes it difficult? Society’s “don’t expect a handout” knee jerk response with every need? Either way, the above statement is true. People do like to help. I like to help. Even with as little as we have, if I know someone is in need, I try to help. I don’t think less of a person in need. I definitely don’t hold it over them or against them. 

Do you feel like I am buttering you up for a request? That’s because I am. I’m trying to sell you on the idea that I deserve help. I think that bothers me the me most about being poor. That panicked feeling you get when you’re trying to convince someone you are worth their time or money. 

This morning I went to my grandma’s for a cup of coffee. We talked about how we’ve been treated during the years by those with influence or money. “I know a lot of people just assumed we were hillbillies and were beneath them. They didn’t even try to get to know us.” My grandma said. “So what? What if you were? Should that even matter? Grandma, hillbillies are people too.  To suggest that a human is less worthy of help or kindness because they are “poor hillbillies” is saying that rich = superior.” People justify withholding love and generosity, due to social standing, by suggesting the poor are poor because they deserve it. And that the rich are rich because they deserve it. When we all know amazing people who have almost nothing and disgusting humans who are very wealthy. 

Ten days ago my kids and I started a St. Joseph Novena. For those non-Catholics out there, it is 9 days of prayer for a special intercession. Our Novena was to find a home. I told my kids on day one, “This isn’t magic. This isn’t superstition. We will get a yes. BUT. It may not be the yes we think we need. So we need to remember to not be sad when we hear no. No is a good thing, because that will point us to the yes that is waiting for us.” 

Today I went to the bank to try to get pre-approved for a mortgage. I was told no. This sweet lady looked as if she wanted to cry for me. She shared with me a personal story of hardship she went through when she was younger. And I told her, “It’s ok. This no just means there’s a yes somewhere else. I had to start somewhere.” 

I need a house. I cannot afford to rent any longer. For a house big enough for my family, I will have to spend twice what I am spending now. Throwing money away. I have spent 7 years doing what I’m supposed to do. Working, paying bills, and taking care of my family. No bankruptcies. No foreclosures or evictions. No repossessions. Student loans and defaulted medical bills are all the debt I have. All of these things mean nothing to the bank. The bank says I should have a credit card. The bank says I need to wait another 2 years. The bank says I am too poor to have a house. Do I have a family member able to help with a down payment? Someone who would be willing to do a land contract? They cannot help me. I would need someone else to help. A family member? A friend of a friend? There is is. This “no” just pointed me in the direction I need to go to find my “yes”.

I need a house. I need someone who knows my situation to say I am worth investing in. I honestly believe we are all connected. That all that I am going through in my life is bigger than I am.  This is not just about me. It’s hard to explain. I have never felt so confident about anything. There is someone out there right now with the desire and ability to help my family. There is someone who has it in their thoughts or in their heart. They will know the moment they read this. 

Now, my children and I will wait to see what our “yes” will be and start preparing for our next life adventure! Because, whatever “yes” we are given, will most definitely be a positive, life changing yes!

Beggars can’t be…at Gymnastics 

I am poor. I just spent a ridiculous amount of time looking up Michigan’s average costs for bills. It has been confirmed. Poor. I know, we’re not supposed to talk about money. But today, my financial state was brought to light in front of a bunch of people I didn’t know. It embarrassed me, so I decided to blog about it.  

I know what you’re thinking. “Duh, Beth. You’re a single mother of 4. Of course money is tight.” No. Money isnt tight. Money isnt there. See, I learned something today as I sat there looking at numbers and averages. My income allows for no extras. At all. Zero. Zilch. 

I have said no to almost everything for over 7 years now. No internet. No TV. No extracurricular activities for the kids. No vacations. I have done this with the belief that if I work hard, if I keep sacrificing, I will get ahead. I will be able to give my kids a house, a car with A/C, a garden, sports equipment, etc. Maybe not a vacation, but at least a full fridge. Maybe not college tuition, but new shoes. I have a more realistic goal now: I want to choose to say no, not be forced to. 

It is impossible to obtain this dream with one income. I did the math. My income will never allow for a yes. I have to turn to others for help. There is a family that loves us and has decided to give my kids some of those things I cannot. They pay for guitar, gymnastics, or whatever, so my kids can have some memories of joy. So they can do those things other kids get to do. 

My 7 year old is in gymnastics and loves it. Today was her long awaited recital. She has been talking about it for WEEKS. I rushed her in, pulled her hair into a ponytail, sent her to her group and turned to the desk. Shit. This was not a free event. 

“Oh. I didn’t realize I had to buy tickets….How much are they?” I asked as the panic set in. 

“$12.00”,  the lady behind the desk said. 

“Oh. That’s a lot…I can’t afford that. I have 2 more kids coming in too. I…I didn’t bring any cash.” I said, trying to salvage my pride. 

“We can just add it to your account if you’d like. It will come out in your next payment.”

“I can’t do that. I don’t pay. My friend. I have a friend that pays for me. For her I mean. I mean. I just. I have 4 kids. I’m a single mother of 4…I can’t afford it. I didn’t know it cost anything to watch her. We can just wait for her here in the lobby.”

“Let me check when she goes on….it looks like she’s in the 4th group. You won’t have to wait for too long.”

I choked back tears as my older 2 children walked in. I told them that I didn’t have enough money. I told them to take my phone into the car with them. That they could watch videos while I waited for her to finish. They left and the tears started. I walked to the corner and pretended to look at the leotards hung on the wall while holding my 1 year old. I was so embarrassed. I felt like a failure. My poor daughter. She would be looking for me. She wouldn’t see me. Her heart would be broken. 

After 10 minutes of shame, the lady at the desk said, “I guess I can allow you to go in without paying.” She made it very clear she was doing me a favor.

I said thank you and rushed in, just as my step mom was coming out to find me. I told her what had happened, and couldn’t control the crack in my voice. I told her, I couldn’t afford it and they embarrassed me, but eventually let me in. I told her I was angry it cost money to see my daughter’s recital, and I was mad at myself for missing it on the note. Then, I smiled at my son, and pointed to the balloons he was reaching for. *breathe*

I did the math. I’m poor. I didn’t need to do math to know that. The lady at the desk let me stew in my poverty for 10 minutes. I am poor. I had to ask my step mom if she knew if the ice cream from announcement was free for the gymnasts, or if it was just them advertising it. Because I couldn’t do it again. I couldn’t wait in line with my daughter, only to find out I didn’t have enough money for it. I am poor. I was made very away of my financial situation. But I still did the math. 

I divided a household budget into 3 parts. You’re Poor, You’re Maintaining, and You’ve Made It. 

YP: Rent, utilities (electric, gas, water, sewer, trash), cell phone, food, and car maintenance (gas, oil change, registration, insurance) $2,870

YM: YP stuff, Heathcare/medical, internet, TV, pets, clothes, entertainment, car payment, Christmas. $4,570 

YMI: YP stuff, YM stuff, life insurance, family vacation, retirement. $5,500+

A single parent needs to make over $22 an hour to be able to be considered poor. They would need to make $35 per hour to maintain a comfortable life. And to actually make it in life? $43 per hour. 

This does not count daycare. This doesn’t count sports. It doesn’t count field trips. It doesn’t count life changes, like a death or pregnancy. It doesn’t count your car breaking down. It doesn’t count winter gear for kids. Or back to school supplies. It doesn’t count saving to buy a house. It doesn’t could student loans. It doesn’t count overdrafts. It leaves no room for any change or mistake. 

I make much less than $2870 a month. But, I found a place for cheaper than the average rent and I don’t buy as many groceries. Also, I neglect my car maintenance. I am so far away from the YM group, it’s laughable. I will not own my own house. I will not be able to afford the internet or TV. I will never be able to take my kids in a family vacation or save for my retirement. This is my life. This is my reality. 

We’re not supposed to talk about money. But today, I was made to feel like dirt. Today, I was reminded that poor kids don’t get to have their mothers with them. Today I was reminded that no matter how strong I feel, no matter how much I love my kids, I will not be able to give them the life I want to give. Today I was reminded, that money is power, and that not having $12 made me powerless. 

I do not want your pity. I do not want you to treat me as a victim. I maintain that i am a strong mother who loves her kids and will do anything for them. What I want is understanding and awareness. If you are at the desk at an event, and a single parent can’t go in because of $12, let them in the effing event. And you are not morally obligated to make sure they know they are an inconvenience to you. Trust me. They know. They are ashamed. They feel the eyes watching them. They don’t need your help. They are embarrassed. They will cry to themselves about it later. So please, just be kind. Me watching my daughter didn’t cost them anything. They lost nothing by letting me in. But the way I was treated ruined my entire day. It showed my daughter’s that their mother was at the mercy of a lady behind a computer. And it made the pit in my stomach, the one I had almost completely removed, come back. 

So now, I will put on a movie, make some popcorn, sit with my kids, and enjoy my night. Even if I am poor.