Music: The Sky Drops, "Million"
I'm still dreadfully depressed today; I was down last night, telling Spousette before I went to sleep, "I'm afraid for our future." And for once, it wasn't just general angst, like world-oblivion or the like; rather, it was my ability to support our family on my income, and being able to finance Spousette's education. We're seriously banking on her being able to get herself a good-paying career, and even if that gamble pays off, it won't be until our early 40s, and even then, it'll probably not be until our mid-40s before that gamble really works for our benefit. Meantime, it's white knuckles and grinding teeth, and me trying to find something that'll pay enough to fund that gamble, while also trying to write and be a good dad. One out of three's not bad, I guess. I've never felt more under the gun than I have now (except perhaps when we owned our own house, and I was busy trying to make that all work -- but I think my ability to write reams during that commute offset some of the angst associated with working at Bizarroworld). It's tough to convey the damage I feel in my heart. Lately my writing's suffered; I despair of ever getting anything of value done.
Anyway, guh. Despair is gnawing at my fingers and toes like frostbite. I'm losing my optimism and spitefully combative resolve before a war of economic attrition being waged against me and my family. Of course, Spousette could go back to work, but that would mean slinging B2 off to day care, which we'd rather not do.
People talk about not sweating money, saying that it comes and goes; but that statement implies that it comes and goes in equal measure -- all I've known my life is money going, not so much coming. And that's while living frugally, being prudent -- fact is, I've never had the luxury of being able to splurge on anything. I'm so hunkered-down these days (and that counts the '90s), that if you gave me $1,000, I'd be tallying how much groceries I could get with that, or would think "well, that'll help with rent." I'm under siege, and it's impacting me psychologically, wearing me down.
I truly don't know what I'm going to do, where I'm going to go, or how I'll manage to fake giving a damn through my next job, and what directly the hell I'll do, whether my generally affable nature will survive Bizarroworld. I feel like it's been eroded away.
For my boys, I want the best; and yet, in our affluent neighborhood, it's so clear to me that we're the riff-raff. Where I live, being middle class IS being the riff-raff, for real. How do all those people make all of that money? Are they smarter than me? Luckier? Better connected? I don't know. I'm just not good at making money, I guess. I told Spousette yesterday that I'm not consumed with things -- to me, time is infinitely more precious than any thing. If I were rich, to me what would be most vital would be the reclamation of finite time, my life. That's all I want. Not stuff; just time. And each paycheck is theft of time from me, poorly compensated with wages. Grrrr. It makes me angry to think about.
My folks did well for themselves at a given point in their lives, but whatever class advantage they enjoyed will die with them. Both my stepsisters married comparatively well; I'm easily the poorest member of my family. I'll be poorer than my nieces and nephews, judging at the rate I'm going, and that doesn't bode well for my boys -- unless I'm able to change things for the better for our family, markedly so, then my boys will have to work extra-hard to survive in this ever-crueler world.
I feel like I've let them down, and they don't even know it, yet. They love me, I'm a good dad, and I hope that helps them handle the damage that'll come their way through life; I just wish I could give them more advantages than I currently can, since those fucking advantages seem to matter so much to so many, and it'll impact them. They're smart, they're cute, and they're loved -- I hope that's enough for them to thrive, because they're definitely not rich kids. Not with me for a dad. Sorry, guys.
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3 comments:
I feel for you, my friend. I'm scared for my own future, and I don't have a family to worry about, as you do. It's scary out there, with no social safety net whatsoever. I've had some major (for me) unexpected expenses recently, and it's nearly wiped out my tiny savings account. Earlier today I told a co-worker, "If things don't get better, I will end up eating cat food when I'm an old lady." I'm never going to get out of debt and have any kind of financial security if I have any more big setbacks. I suppose I should just shut up and take a second job, but I did that once before and it nearly killed me. Anyway, I know it's no consolation, but you aren't the only one in the same financial boat. *hugs*
Sorry to hear you are feeling so down. The middle class is disappearing, that's for sure! I, too, would like to know who all these people are who are making great money. Who buys these enormous houses, BMWs and $500 pairs of shoes? I can barely buy anything other than food, rent, utilities, gas and the occasional article of clothing. I'm grateful for what I do have, of course, but I worry that I'll live in box someday.
I'm alright, I guess. I often wonder that, like who these mystery folks are who buy those things, too. Are they simply living beyond their means, or are they actually making more money? I dunno.
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