“What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.” Repeat continuously and belief may follow.

One of the recent themes in my life seems to be “but not now.” I’m not feeling the financial side of it on a personal level, because I know a large portion of that change is not my doing. There was a time when I could afford an infrequent splurge like dinner out or hobby supplies, but not now. Every cent goes to survival, which costs much more than it used to even though there aren’t as many cents coming in. I didn’t make the larger mess we call the American economic system and I certainly didn’t order up the kind of business climate that has resulted in my barely sufficient paid hours being cut down to the not viable level. I’ve cut almost every non-essential I can and will soon have to cut absolutely everything in a desperate attempt to keep shelter and food as part of my life. And gasoline, since I have to get to work in order to acquire that half-of-what-it-used-to-be paycheck.

It’s like being in a small wooden boat on a river. The oars are a bit small, but sufficient for normal conditions, and they’re the only ones available, so you make do, paddling back and forth as best you can. Then the rain starts, and you have to bail out the boat now and then, which means putting down the oars for a bit, which means drifting off course due to the river’s flow, but you keep at it and still manage to move around pretty much the way you need to. Then the river rises fast, because the rain here is just a bit, but rain further upstream is torrential. Now the current is pushing you downriver and your small oars can’t fight it well enough to reach a riverbank and it’s still raining, so you still have to stop rowing in order to bail. Sooner or later you’ll be pushed right out into the sea…or you’ll hit a bridge or a clump of debris…but whatever the outcome is, as long as you’re trying to row you know any failure won’t be for lack of trying. If you had bigger oars, if you had someone to help you row, if you had a cover to keep the rain off of you and mostly out of the boat, if you just had some help, maybe you could navigate this swollen mass of water to safety. But the oars are small, there’s no help with the rowing, you don’t have an umbrella, and nobody seems to notice your predicament. Failing may be catastrophic for you, but it will be a catastrophe created by many factors, not just by you.

Included in the attempt to navigate this financial mess in the search for a second job, a demeaning and depressing prospect for a middle-aged woman with a limited resume. Past the half-century mark, I am discovering I have limits that I didn’t used to have. Maybe I could work two full-time jobs a decade ago, but not now. Maybe I could haul a small moving truck worth of furniture and boxes all in one day without any help a dozen years ago, but not now. The body won’t cooperate now. Too many years of hard use and indifferent maintenance will wear out a machine, and I’ve been under the gun and under-supported for years.

“What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.” Repeat continuously and belief may follow.

I keep trying…by now I should be able to pick up a skyscraper, and that’s definitely not happening, but I keep trying. Like there’s any other choice?

“What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.” Repeat continuously and belief may follow.