Poverty isn't always what people imagine, and I'm facing that really hard lately.
I grew up in poverty. I boiled water for baths when the gas was almost always out.
I lit bonfires in my living room to keep warm and cook finger foods.
I went weekends without eating until I could get to school on Monday for breakfast.
My house was littered with things we didn't use or need because my mom was afraid we might one day need them and not be able afford it.
Our animals often went without food.
I'd walk an hour to the library in any weather to charge a cellphone my friend had given me.
Now, I have a nice home. My pets are well fed and spoiled as much as they can be. I have a smart phone, a computer, a TV. I have pretty things that bring me moments of joy.
I have beautiful things, neatly organized all over my home.
But still, I find myself in financial stress and all the illusions come crashing down.
My friend passively mentions a phrase I barely remember the context of, "you're kinda still living in poverty". I know this was meant for validation of my struggles. I know there was no ill intent.
But now, I find those words echoing in my mind any time I try to spend $5 on something to bring me momentary joy.
I feel the weight of guilt knowing that being mentally disabled has forced this experience on my spouse. I feel like a burden to my friends for not contributing more or needing them to spot me for lunch.
Today was the second time I woke up from dissociating on the floor of the kitchen crying. Likely, I was triggered by having no safe foods.
I hate saying I have no food, I've had no food before.
I have mayonnaise and nearly expired deli meat. I have a can of beans, some ramen and some soup that I hate that got mixed into an old grocery pick up order that I was scared to throw away or donate just in case. There are two frost bitten corn dogs left in the freezer. I have running city water to drink.
But still, I'm sobbing on the floor of my kitchen because even if I wasn't autistic, even if I could stomach a food that isn't my safe food right now, I'm still so scared.
What if I eat the last bite of food I have for a while and forget to cherish it? What if I waste it by throwing up because I'm so anxious? What if my husband needs it to have the energy to get to work?
I have 4 followers here, but the thousands of followers I have on other platforms don't seem to notice or care that I keep spiraling about this. They think the free wigs I get sent, the medicine I take, the makeup and clothes I wear...
It all makes it seem like I'm okay. I'm doing just fine. Really. The looming debt we acquired, the bad credit scores, to get to a mildly safe point in life... It all doesn't seem to occur to them.
But the truth is I'm not. I'm not okay. I'm fighting the urge to beg for donations because I don't know what other choices I have. But I hate needing help. I hate it so badly it causes me physical pain.
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Allergy discussion below the cut.
I'm so. Frustrated. Upset. So I called the allergist back to ask my few extra questions. I asked if I needed to avoid things that are made on shared equipment/in a facility that processes/may come into contact with egg, and the nurse said "yeah he says avoid all of it. If you have some contact accidentally, and you find out later, you know, if you have a reaction you know to avoid that." (Paraphrased). So I explained that, I have no idea what my reaction is, and we are assuming it's a GI reaction, which makes it harder to know because I have other GI problems. And she was just like "well if you have a reaction, you'll know you need to avoid that stuff." Like???? Are you listening to me???? I'm so frustrated and so upset. This is going to limit what I can buy even further, and I don't have the energy to cook all my own food from scratch, at the very least not until/if we can medicate my executive functioning again. I'm just so tired and sick of all this health bullshit. I already have so many food issues and stuff and now this and I'm just so tired. So fucking tired.
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“Brittany Broski On Cancel Culture, The Finances Of Going Viral, & Life After Kombucha” from The Financial Diet
This video has such a great discussion on the issue of Cancel Culture™ in it, that I absolutely didn’t expect, starting from the question at Timestamp 38:45 and running all the way until 1:00:20
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Manifestation
Wishing isn't enough.
I had my tarot read at a con this past weekend - very professional, I know. Funny thing is, he told me basically what my therapist has been telling me - journal, make a plan, don't sit on what you have.
His tarot reading has me thinking a lot about shadow work and erasing doubt from my mind - changing the language from "I want" or "I'll try" to "I have" and "I will".
See, manifestation - whether you believe in the occult or not - is about setting the mindset and then setting the example. It's about becoming what you want. If you manifest money, you're really manifesting a way to get money; more often than not, manifesting money is manifesting work.
I'm manifesting a healthier self. I'm manifesting a version of myself that is debt-free and makes wise financial decisions.
How?
I'm making a game plan, and I'm following it by being the person that it is meant for. I'm planning workouts and going to the gym, I'm meal prepping and altering my diet, I'm budgeting and researching better financial techniques.
I'm not just saying I want to be better, I'm actively working towards it.
You can't win the lottery if you never buy a ticket.
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Ashley C Ford talking about the differences between parents in a wealthier community vs a poorer community.
In the wealthy community, parents go to the local school to look out for their kid's interests. The parents are each trying to get their kid into the best after curriculars, have the best grades, etc. etc. Other students are competitors for those coveted Ivy League slots.
In the less-wealthy community, parents go to the local school to pool resources for all their kids. These parents are depending on each other for everything, they need each other to help with childcare, with food costs, with birthday parties etc. The parents work together to build a better school because they are used to depending on each other anyway.
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So, a post came across my dash / to my attention about diet and of course it's the meat-eaters vs. the vegans as usual.
And it's got me to thinking about my place in it and how I'm just... a non-starter in the argument. In terms of vegetarianism and strict veganism, those who are "evangelistic" about it run into a full-stop with me and there are reasons why that have little to do with me trying to justify "carnism" in the greater whole and whatever.
It has everything to do with "press me and I'll just self-identify as evil and call it a day."
From a personal standpoint: Here is how I grew up. My father was a butcher. He worked as a retail butcher. Furthermore, I grew up in the country (specifically in the desert) - but in a neighborhood where it was quite common for people to raise their own meat and some of my earliest memories involve this. We had a pig that my parents let me name "Charlotte." She became bacon and while I don't remember it entirely, my father said that I came out to "help" (at 4 years old) when most little girls would have run away from that. I *do* have memories of helping him with our chickens (not that "helping" at that age was anything more than watching or maybe doing a little plucking). Later on, when my dad decided that he was tired of doing double-duty at work and at home and we just bought our meat, we continued to raise chickens for eggs. Sometimes one would get out of the pen and be mauled by our dogs or get into the neighbor's yard and get mauled by the neighbors' dogs and would be lingering away, running and hiding and slowly dying from infection. I was older then and was happy to help Dad catch the chickens and to hold a dying chicken still while he took the mercy-hatchet to its neck. (These were not eaten, of course).
I had uncles and aunts who hunted. I never took it up (and kind of regret it, as venison and wild turkey are delicious). I DID take up fishing. I've looked my food in the face as I've put it into an ice-bath or taken the tip of a knife to ike jime... I tend to say a little prayer, but, you know, fish-blood is on my hands... And I always feel a part of nature when I'm catching my own food.
Get some nice beef sometimes from a friend whose family has raised their own cattle...
And, yeah, there was a time in my youth when I considered becoming a vegetarian. My sister drew me back with how good roasted turkey is.
In other words, when answering the question of "If you had to kill your own meat, would you eat like you do now or would you become a vegetarian?" and how most people would choose the latter option? I'm one of those rare, one in a million people who *might* choose the former option. Although, I expect I'd eat meat more rarely if I had to go through all the steps of dealing with it myself, because raising / butchering is very difficult and annyoying - even my pro butcher-dad just gave it up after a while because he got sick of taking his work home with him.
All in all, while I do want livestock as a whole to be treated better, when it comes to the ethics of eating it at all? I was raised in a way that makes me chill with death and life-cycles. If I get my way with a natural burial, the worms will eat me one day.
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