Chance for me to escape from all I've known
Holding back the tears
Cause nothing here has grown
I've wasted all my tears
Wasted all those years
And nothing had the chance to be good
Nothing ever could yeah
I was originally going to call this the "If I could turn back time" post, but I did not want to have Cher running through my head for the rest of the day.
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about the past and asking myself a lot of "how did I end up like this?" type questions. I look around me and I have stuff - most of it sentimental in value, but worthless otherwise - and soon, I'm going to have to come up with a plan for this stuff because unless I get a job soon, homeless is a very real possibility. The fear of this keeps me awake at night. What is so important to me to take with me? What can I leave behind? What do I do with the rest? Is there anything worth selling? Do I just put it all in storage? How will I feel when I see it out on the curb after eviction?
As these questions swirl through my head, I think back to a time when things were much simpler and I didn't even realize it. I find myself wishing I could find something "like that" now.
Twenty years ago, I was working a full-time job as a child care consultant making a little more than minimum wage (which I think was $4.35 or something like that) and working part-time as an evening office manager for a community center/boarding house place. I lived in a furnished room in the boarding house upstairs. Everything I owned was in one room. When I went to bed at night, I could see all of my worldly possessions. I didn't really "want" for more. If I didn't have the room for it or the money for it, I didn't buy it. If I bought something new, I tossed out something old to make room for the new thing. My wardrobe was modest. I drove a Ford Escort. I didn't have a cell phone or a pager. I used calling cards for long-distance calling from a payphone in the living room of the boarding house. I shared a bathroom and kitchen with 14 other women. My biggest and most expensive possession was a brand new Packard Bell computer system complete with a dial up modem and dot matrix printer that I was financing through Sun TV (which later became HH Gregg.) I paid $30 a week for rent. There was a dining room in the boarding house that was open to the public and because I worked and lived there, I got a discount so my dinners were usually made and eaten there. I walked to a lot of the places I went, eventhough I had a car. Parking was a premium and once you found a good parking spot near the center, you didn't want to lose it. I was a bit healthier. I had friends. I even had a love life. I traveled. My luxury was books. I loved books. When I moved out, 75% of my wordly possessions were either books or clothing.
All my life, I didn't have "much". I grew up poor, lived in a mobile home until I left for college. Then, a dorm room doesn't give you much space to expand either. I spent the first 28 years of my life living in spaces that forced me to economize and prioritize. As long as I was happy, that's all that mattered.
Then, in 1996, I got an itching to live in the "big city" and in an apartment. More space meant the need for more things. More things meant more debt. More debt meant more work. More work meant more stress. Once you started, you couldn't stop. At least, I couldn't. I gained weight. I made bad choices. I had to keep going and going and going. I attached feelings to my things. Seeing my things made me feel good. Being able to buy things made me feel good. I would try to buy friendships. I would try to buy affection.
Now, I want to go back. I want to have that peaceful non-materialistic life I had before. I wish I could find a nice quaint boarding house set up like I had 20 years ago (and trust me, I've been looking) where Abby and I can sort of reboot and start over. I've looked for "rooms for rent" type ads, but the offerings here sound scary or they won't allow pets. I'm not looking for a "roommate" situation because I don't want to compete with another person for use of an apartment and try to build some sort of rapport and pray that the person doesn't rape me, kill me, or steal from me. I want my own room in a monitored space with other people coming and going from their own rooms in this monitored space. I don't want to live in some stranger's basement or garage and worry about them not paying their mortgage and being evicted. I watch enough Judge Judy to see the horror stories about people who came home to find their stuff ransacked, stolen, or tossed out because some landlord got into a snit. I've been looking for studio apartments outside of this area, but I need a job to get an apartment.
Last night, I couldn't sleep for a variety of reasons, and as I lay in bed, I was mentally cataloging the things in each room of my apartment as "keep, sell, donate or toss" items. It forced me to realize the things that are important to me.
- Abby
- My photo albums
- An old family bible that is 46 years old
- My laptop and printer
- Some of my older books
- A couple pieces of jewelry
- 5-6 outfits
- 2-3 pairs of shoes
- Legal documents and tax documents
- Medical records for me and Abby
- A portable generator for jumping my car
- My Kindle
- A television
- A tiny combination bank I've had since I was a kid
- Some diaries from when I was in junior high
- A few good pens
- A few good notebooks
When I really look around at my stuff, I want to keep it all, but I realize that it doesn't make me happy.
One huge thing I've realized is that if I could turn back time and have a do-over, knowing what I know, I would have tried to do more with less, like I was doing 20 years ago.
People keep asking me why I can't just go out and get a part time or minimum wage job and I wish I could. There was a time when I could. Health reasons that prevent me from doing some of those jobs aside, I can't get off of this money-eating machine. I want to. But, right now, I can't.
I have a lease that isn't up until May. My landlord will not work with me to reduce my rent. I've asked. I can't get a cheaper apartment without a job and fairly decent credit score. If I take a place that doesn't check credit or require a job like a motel or shady craigslist ad, then I risk being sued for breaking my lease. I lose my deposit, too. A lot of places require at least six months of work history for an apartment.
So, I feel stuck. I know I need to downsize my life and go back to a simpler less expensive lifestyle.
I need a job. I can't get a job. I'm trying. Every day and every way. I'm trying. My ego and esteem have taken quite the beating because I arrogantly thought I'd have something within a few weeks. I've applied for the part time jobs and the minimum wage jobs. I've networked. I've signed on with temp agencies.
As for expenses, I'm doing everything I can to keep those as low as I can, too. I'm not eligible to refinance my car. Bad credit score from mistakes I made two years ago. Then, when I got the newer car two years ago, I had to roll over a loan balance which made my payments higher. I have the lowest legal coverages for insurance. I have a pay as you go cell phone. I don't take my prescription medications as often as I should so that I can make them last longer. I've applied for food stamps and assistance and got rejected. I cashed out my 401k and a life insurance policy. I can't get credit cards. I don't have rich friends or family members.
I made a promise to the Powers That Be last night that if I can please please please get a job that falls some place within a certain salary range by the end of the month, then I promise I will streamline and prioritize and get back to the way of life that is meaningful so that if this happens again, I won't be blind sided. I will find a smaller and less expensive place to live, even if I have to buy a gun to live there. I will cancel cable as soon as my contract is up (I tried to cancel it, but the early termination fee made it cheaper to just keep it for right now) and watch all of my television online, if I need to watch it at all. I will see if I can find a beater car and then surrender my shiny newish car back to the finance company.
I just need a chance. I get it. I lost control. It's my fault.
Now I need a miracle to change it.
And people to help me pack up the stuff, sell the stuff, move the stuff...
I've wasted all my tears
Wasted all those years
And nothing had the chance to be good
Nothing ever could yeah
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