Poor shaming. Yep, this is a rant

 I don't know really. I just saw someone else posted 10 things to love about Spring Break break and I thought to my poor not-yet-fully-caffeinated-brain, I can come up with three things about.... something. Life? Too broad. Me? Ummm, just no. Maybe things I wish people know about people like me? Hmmmm. 

Three things I wish people would stop being so judgmental about.  Strike that.

Three things people should know about fear and phobias.

nope.

Three things.... 

Maybe I'll just start with 3 random rants and take it from there. 

oooo.

Poor Shaming. 

1. it's real

2. it's systemic

3. it cripples the millions of people who live below the poverty line.

Poor shaming is a real thing. I know it, I feel it, I experience it, and I can identify it rather quickly even when you can't. *here my brain whispers to me.... (harsh, lots of well meaning people don't 'mean' to shame you). So I realize that some will get angry/offended. Even to the point of "un-friending" on the ole social media. But the truth is, as a nation, we need to be offended, needled, woke up. And here is the thing with that, part of the change, yes, can come from education. Educating John Q. Public to the system we've bought into since the beginning of this country that cripples a very part of "We the People" to the whole American Way, and spiel about "you can do anything and be anything you want to in this nation...." The rest of that sentence reads something like this, "....if you have enough money and wealthy connections, anything is possible." Ouch. But a large part of change comes from discomfort. This brings me to another uncomfortable subject.... Black Lives Matter. The BS that white privileged America sells about how they are not opposed to protests but just to the WAY BLM does it. Or the way the highly paid athlete didn't respect the flag pledging allegiance to a nation that only truly offers "liberty and justice for all" white, middle to upper class citizens. That is a rant all on it's own. But I want to offer that one of the things I have learned from this most recent quest for civil rights and justice for all is that the American Way will not be easily swayed and that people need to made uncomfortable for change to happen. 

My child was in a mall in the middle of America last weekend when the shots were fired. This child is experiencing intense PTSD symptoms and applying for jobs everywhere and anywhere. But I know a whole lot of people who will say, "it's his choice to work there, there are jobs galore out there and if people would just look for them, they will find them!" The job market is tough and employment is not ripe for the picking as many people say it is. Let me tell you about my child.

I have this child, brilliant creature. But he lives with crippling anxiety. CRIPPLING. I may well tell you more about that later, but right now I just want to tell the story in a fashion that describes living life in the bottom of the ninth with 2 outs and you're only on 1st base. The odds of making it home are not in your favor. And it is not solely up to you. This is pretty accurate in terms of how life looks. However, at least in baseball if the 3rd out leaves you stranded on 1st base, the fault goes to the hitter, not the runner. In life when your at the mercy of the other players and it's clutch time, you still take the blame and ridicule and there is an expectation to "take responsibility for your own life and destiny." 

Hmmm. How to bring you up to speed about this child. I might have to just list some things and switch back to story form. I mean, who doesn't enjoy stories? And they are more fun to tell than just creating lists. 

1. Child is part of the LBGTQ+ community. 

2. The child's last relationship was with a narcissist. 

3. When the relationship ended the narcissist took everything and my kid didn't care, he was just grateful for his life back. But he lost a car he paid for, every earthly possession he had including old vinyl records, games and the like, furniture, appliances (washer and dryer for instance), and all his clothes and shoes. Every. Thing. everything. 

4. Enter the anxiety again. Kid doesn't drive. He had a license and drove for a brief while but then it was time for a renewal and he had to have a doctor release for medication he's on as well as an eye exam.

5. No insurance = no eye exam. I think he said for approximately 6 years now. Gonna take a minute to get the cash for eye exam to get the paper that says he's legal to drive, and then the release for the meds and so on.

6. Since we're talking about insurance, let me say, that's a freaking joke. He's had insurance a couple times. But it doesn't cover the eye exam really. It is still going to cost him >$100. Then the script will be another $50ish, and frames may be cheap (some places start at $10 and there are places to get them for free), but there is a cost on top all the other costs. 

7. He doesn't work for minimum wage thank God. But that doesn't really mean that much. He works for under $15/hour. I don't know the exact amount. It seemed like enough when he was in a relationship that provided him a ride to and from work everyday. 

8. Section 8 housing. He did qualify for income based housing. It is a little-bitty studio that he and his dog and cat call home. And it's not bad. Except that he went all summer without AC waiting on maintenance. And little things like that. 

9. Uber and Lyft are expensive. They eat around $120/week of his paycheck. 

I'm going to stop here. I don't know if you can see it but this kid has cards stacked against him in so many ways. How can he save for glasses? A car? Clothes? Shoes? Entertainment? Streaming services and internet? He spends over $500/month on transportation. When we have had the discussion about public transportation, like the bus, the truth is it will add about an hour to each end of his work day. So in essence, he has too decide if he wants to keep his dog, who cannot go 12+ hours a day locked in the house, or if he can give up any sliver of a life outside of work and take the bus. Which stops running ridiculously early, like 7pm. Which adds to my rant. The bus, the bus mind you, is part of system aimed at commuters that are off work and ready to board a bus by 7 pm. That is not the majority of those below the poverty line. I'm told they shouldn't be so proud, and should be humble and willing work any hours of the day and whatever. First of all, "they" is me, and my kid in this story, and it's offensive. And second of all, the system works against those very words. 

This rant could go on, and on, and on. and on. and then some more. But I am emotionally drained from baring my soul. How ironic, I didn't bare my own soul, but the soul and "sins" of my child who came from no money and who pays the price every day.