More tears, on being poor, having hope, and the spirit of Christmas

I start my job in 11 days- my real job, the reason I went to back to school and busted my ass for the last three years (while working full time) to get my degree, and for the hope that I will be financially stable. But for now, I’m flat broke. I can’t even access my bank account online because of the Target Credit Card hacking scandal (https://everyonehascrap.wordpress.com/2013/12/20/blaming-target-is-like-blaming-a-rape-victim-dont-punish-them-support-them/) and I don’t even really care. I’m guessing that there’s only about $50 in there- not really anything. Ironically, my next unemployment check is supposed to be deposited on Christmas; I’m not even a little bit hopeful that the State of Michigan is going to deposit checks early, so we unemployed can get the gifts we can’t afford without our checks. After that, I have to wait again for the State of Michigan to release my monthly child support, which usually gets deposited around the 3rd. Then I will have another unemployment check the 8th, in the middle of my second week of work at my real job before I finally get a real job check on the 17th. It sounds like a lot is coming in, but I will still be short in my bills about $200 before the 17th- and that’s just bills, not food, or anything else. This is how being poor affects someone; it haunts our every thought, lingering in the back of our minds, and never goes away.

And it’s about to be Christmas in just three days. I only bought one present so far for Matthew; it’s a Rubik’s Void. He loves cube puzzles and can solve the original in about 45 seconds from where ever anyone mixes it up. He will love it, but still… And I said before that he’s in a band. During the past couple of months that I’ve officially been poor, the drummer’s family has been filling in the gaps here and there for me with simple things that are easy to accept- dinners both out and at their house, simple groceries like toilet paper and milk, and even gift cards for both gas and groceries on my birthday last month. They are awesome people and I know they can afford it easily and genuinely want to help, but it makes me feel like a loser to have to accept these things from them. And yes, I am crying yet again. These things are basic everyday items that I should be able to provide myself, or get help from my own family members (who are all extremely wealthy), or even Matthew’s father- who STILL owes me $7,085 from our judgement of divorce in 2007. And, to make it worse, the other day when I went to ask my parents for a loan (to pay a house payment), they flat out turned me down. But that SAME DAY my father asked me to help him set up his online bank account (because he couldn’t figure it out), and in doing so, I couldn’t help but notice the $73,000 he has in his savings account. Really? And you can’t make one of my $350 house payments when I’m already two months behind? Just because I already owe you a grand for fixing my car? Are you kidding me? You will still have more money than you even NEED! What did I do wrong that I can’t get support from my own father, the one person who should feel an obligatory duty to help me AND obviously has the money? It’s not like I’m out spending money on needless things or don’t already have a real job lined up…

So back to the drummer’s family, my new family, the people who not only are helping me financially, but who are also supporting me personally- the one’s who see me struggling and CARE. But they shouldn’t. I’ve only known them for like 2 years and they have no duty or obligation…They are taking me Christmas shopping today, buying me presents to put under my tree, and have already given me two presents to put under it. They are awesome for that. And I’m sure they have no idea when I’m going to repay them, nor do they care. They’re just SO NICE and GENUINE that it makes me wonder why people who have only known me for two years can see what’s going on when my own father – or even brother or sister – can’t? And now that I’ve recovered from sobbing uncontrollably and there’s just those stupid drippy tears…It makes me think that maybe, just maybe, that in my silly notion of trying to be a better person, in my process of self-actualization, that the drummer’s family knows me- the real me, the better me, the me who I try to hide behind the fake smile, the real me with drippy tears and hope. And my biological family hasn’t seen the real me, because they haven’t looked. But at this point, I do believe that it’s my parent’s fault, and my brother’s fault, and my sister’s fault; yet I want them all to see me, the real me, the me I have become- despite them and our pretentious and superficial relationships that created the old me. So for now…shoulders back, put the smile on, and hang in there til things get better. They have to, the tears and hope aren’t going to cut it much longer. I’m exhausted.

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