humiliating

Yes, I know - it's two posts in a row. I already have so much stuff to say about this new topic, so I might as well get to writing.

I finally swallowed my pride a while back and applied for SNAP, which is better known as food stamps. After watching my finances dwindle away, I realized that I could pay my bills if I stopped eating. However, not eating has very bad consequences, so I didn't really think that was a good option.

My case manager has, thus far, been a wonderful person. After talking with her about my current employment situation, she realized I was going to need serious help and fast. She got me set up with emergency funds to make sure I could get food. I was really thrilled to know that at least something was going right. I even joked to a few friends that I finally got to see a benefit for paying taxes all these years.

The laughter stopped when I realized I would have to go to a new employer for documentation about my employment. Now you don't want to lie about your employment. Overstate it, and you may not get all the help you need. Understate it (like not reporting), and you can expect some face time with Boston's finest officers of the law... you might even get to see a judge and jury. While I understand all of this, it's really hard to go up to HR on your first week on the job and ask for a letter of employment verification. (I need the letter because I do not have enough paystubs for the required documentation.) While the HR woman was very nice about it, I don't think any amount of "nice" would ever make me feel comfortable sharing my economic situation. I think there are only two reasons people know how much money you make: you make a ton or you make nothing... you're rich or your poor. Everyone knows the Hiltons or Kardashians because of the obscene amount of money they have. When you're poor, people know because you need their help. It's humbling and sometimes humiliating. Honestly, while I know I need it, I find it strips away a little of my dignity. I'm well-educated, have many commendations to my credit, had a professional career and come from a good home. Now I have to tell people, who are really strangers to my life, that I'm practically broke. I joked that the Commonwealth doesn't think I'll survive Darwinism and that's why they're giving me food stamps! It's laughter designed to hide pain and humiliation. I don't want to be a charity case, but I also don't want to go hungry or struggle to the point of worrying myself sick.

In another blog I'll talk about the documentation required by the commonwealth, but right now I want to put a feeling on the process. It's humbling. I feel like Oliver, who takes his bowl up to get more porridge. The only light I've found in this, besides being able to pick what I want to eat again vs. what I could previously afford, is being able to give back to others. I can now make a batch of cookies to take over to someone. I can afford to bring chips and dip. I can give back to friends and family who have helped me out as much as they could. It's a little place where I regain a little of that lost dignity in the process.