socio-economic class (Page 11)

Last week, several bills came due at once and I wasn’t sure I had money enough to cover the checks I was sending out. It was scary, again.

Things are much better than they were at the worst point of these financially challenging times. However, despite my ex-husband’s continued generous support, grantwinners.net’s growth, and a gift my daughters got to help with summer camp, I’m still not financially stable. In fact, to cover the cost of preschool and childcare for the summer (still not all paid for), I had to withdraw the savings I had set aside from our tax refund. That savings needs to be there for when my 2002 Subaru decides it’s time to go. That savings isn’t there anymore. The checks cleared, but it was another eye opening experience. The possibility of having no money at all, again, was terrifying.

During those few days where I wasn’t sure how things would work out, I decided I’d better not go to the grocery store if I could avoid it—I have dried and canned goods in the pantry, and previously cooked frozen foods in the deep freezer. I could make do for… how long?

At that point, I started getting a little excited. I realized that if I see it as a freely-chosen challenge, rather than depravation borne of necessity, I feel enthusiastic about “winning” the not-spending battle. It’s an enormously useful reframing of a previously terrifying situation.

I decided to see how long I could go without going to the grocery store. I don’t mean that we’d starve or even really be uncomfortable. I’m a good cook, and, like I said, we have a lot on hand. I talked to my daughters about it and mentioned some items we didn’t have and how my one concern would be fresh vegetables, fruit, and milk. My older daughter suggested one more trip to the market to stock up on what we needed and then we’d start with our challenge.

Yesterday, I made a run to BJs, using up my foodstamps for the month, and made the last of our purchases for… how long? I don’t know.

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I will eventually buy milk and, when I do, I might sometimes go to the shelf where they sell the not-pretty but perfectly good fruits and vegetables if we are out. I will use foodstamps for that. I also expect when the time comes that I do need to go to the grocery store, I will have accrued some funds in my foodstamps account which will help me stay on the path to almost-stable financial ground.

I’m going to post updates about the experience here. I realize people all over the Internet are publicly tracking their experiences with private and personal goals. Usually, if “everyone is doing it,” I find it unappealing. But, this is something my daughters and I are doing together (my older daughter okay’d several of the school lunches she had X’d out previously) and it’s something I’d like to be mindful of as we go along. Writing about it here will help me.

Knowing me, there will be exceptions to the “no grocery shopping” rule beyond buying milk and bruised fruit. There will be issues I haven’t considered. However, the idea of spending almost no money on groceries because we are using what we have feels empowering. I’m feeling motivated and energized by all the creativity it’s going to require.

As I get financially more stable, I get more worried about the point at which I stop qualifying for government assistance (beyond the assistance we all get from our fire fighters, police officers, public education, drivable roads, etc.). The food stamps can go, I’d probably be okay losing them now, but losing the health insurance would likely put me back into scary territory really quickly. It’s a terrible bind. I want to keep getting more financially secure, but there’s an enormous gap between being stable and being able to afford medical care.

They haven’t told me yet I’m no longer eligible, but, I just did some research. My ex-husband provides generous support. We voters don’t want him to be so responsible a parent, it turns out. The child and spousal support income alone makes me ineligible for food stamps and/or MaineCare while that same income is also not enough to live on. The costs of my new childcare (eight hours a week) plus the costs of growing my business make my own income generation nearly nothing. My income from work has been increasing, and I fully expect to be self-sufficient in the near future. Right now, though, it’s not enough to live on.
The costs of self-pay health insurance will be far beyond my means. The costs of my necessary medications without insurance will also be impossibly high ($400/week, or $100/week with the pharmaceutical company’s assistance program, for just one of the prescriptions). Losing the food stamps, I can probably manage now. I’m already down to $150/month. Losing the health insurance will likely put me back into financial instability so significant the recent improvements in our lives will be at risk.
It’s hard for me to understand how we can sort of support the idea of helping people get back on their feet. For a bit, it might seem like treading water could turn to getting up above the waves. But, really, government support intended to help is really only a fast-leaking life raft. It’s already nearly sunk before I’m able to swim on my own again.

In the late 90s, much of my social life centered around a couple online communities. There was the newsgroup “misc.writing,” where I learned how to call myself “a writer.” My first paid writing gig came from a friend I made in my other favorite online community, the newsgroup “alt.music.soulcoughing.”

In those newsgroups, I learned about myself and my writing. I learned I am not a troll, and never could be. I am also not interested in “combat prose,” though several of my good online friends were terrifically skilled at it. While I relish passionate debate, it’s rare that being unkind feels like the right thing for me. These are just a few things the newsgroups—so much like comments on a newspaper’s website—taught me.

Today, I responded to a comment on my Bangor Daily News column. For the most part, I don’t read the comments. Or, rather, I didn’t after the first column. There were so many (what an ego-boost!) on the first couple and I knew it would be difficult to avoid taking them personally. For this last piece, though, there were only a small handful of comments. I read the first 10 or so as they came in, and then I stopped. One of them criticized my writing, and the awkward absence of transitions. It made me re-read the column with new eyes. I wanted to thank the reader for the comment, but I was wary about participating in the comments section. I did, though, post a thank you and a clarification. I went on to respond to a few of the other comments, “since I was there already,” I said to myself.

While I may respond to comments in the future, I suspect I mostly won’t. I realized today that if I have the sense that “I can clarify any misunderstandings later” then my writing won’t improve. I welcome the challenge of brevity. I need to make my point clearly and without distractions. It’s not easy. But, oh my, it is fun.

home cookingEating out and buying prepared foods are both expensive. It’s also easy to eat too much junk (processed, refined) food that way. Yesterday morning I was chopping up some stuff, moving things from the deep freezer to the freezer, and from the freezer to the ‘fridge. My 3.5 year old was listening to an audio book and playing with blocks (right where I needed to walk, between the stove and counter, but her contentment was very worth the inconvenience). I was reminded of the days when my first daughter was a baby. I devoted hours and hours preparing wonderful meals full of whole grains, organic fresh (locally grown, or from our gardens) vegetables, and even meat from animals raised and slaughtered right here in Maine. I froze foods, I fried seaweed, I embraced quinoa (10 years ago when it was relatively new on the American scene)… I was creative and quite frugal. Bulk purchasing and home preparation saved us a lot of money. But, it also cost a lot of time.
Buying ingredients and making our own foods costs a lot less in dollars than buying prepared foods (if the prepared foods are relatively nutritious). But the time it takes to prepare food at home—that’s what I do 90% of the time—shouldn’t be underestimated. It’s not even preparing the food, but managing it. What do we have on hand, what’s still frozen, what needs preparation, what makes a meal, what leftovers need to be used… all of these things take brain space. All of these things are also things I love to think about and do, when I have the time.
The choices aren’t easy. Take out, restaurants, and prepared foods from the grocery store are all too expensive. They are also much less likely to fit our values or our desire to eat foods that make our bodies strong. Spending the morning making stock from the freezer bag of chicken bones and vegetables, quinoa bean chili, fruit smoothies from the frozen fruit scraps, whole grain cookies, baked tofu with Bragg’s… there’s what I want to do (the cooking and planning) and there’s what I need to do (make money). There’s the bottom line (cash/bills to pay) and the bottom line (quality of life) to be considered, too.
Right now, I’m choosing to breathe in the present moment. Balance is my goal, though I certainly lean toward the quality of life side of the scales.
As many of you know, I have been writing a monthly column at The Bangor Daily News about being “newly poor.” Food choices are complicated when living with so little money. I fully understand the appeal of the McDonald’s drive-through. In fact, over the last few years I have used that option much more than feels comfortable to me. But, we’re all human and can only do the best we can. I just don’t judge harshly people who make “bad” food choices when it feels so much easier and even feels less expensive to get the quick fix food. In an ideal world, I could take it easy and buy, prepare, and share foods that feed our bodies and our values. In this world of necessary compromise, I can only do the best I can.