We’ve been hit with some unexpected expenses and my credit card bill is much higher than usual. I am sitting in Tesco car park sobbing. Choking. I can’t breathe. Sweat is quite literally pouring off me and I am shaking.
I go to my bank app. Savings. I can clear this. As the shaking and sweat subsides I start to regulate my breathing. I’m fine. We’re fine.
Poverty never loosens its grip on you.
When I was a child, we were poor. My father worked hard but he wasn't paid for a big job and wallop: we had no food. From that point on, we didn’t see Dad for years. At one point, according to my Mum, I saw Dad and asked: ‘Who is that man? Why is he in our house?’ He tried to stop working so much but couldn’t. No work, no food. So I grew up at Dad’s work – it was the only way we would see him. In time, things got better and we had money.
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We’ve been hit with some unexpected expenses and my credit card bill is much higher than usual. I am sitting in Tesco car park sobbing. Choking. I can’t breathe. Sweat is quite literally pouring off me and I am shaking.
I go to my bank app. Savings. I can clear this. As the shaking and sweat subsides I start to regulate my breathing. I’m fine. We’re fine.
Poverty never loosens its grip on you.
When I was a child, we were poor. My father worked hard but he wasn't paid for a big job and wallop: we had no food. From that point on, we didn’t see Dad for years. At one point, according to my Mum, I saw Dad and asked: ‘Who is that man? Why is he in our house?’ He tried to stop working so much but couldn’t. No work, no food. So I grew up at Dad’s work – it was the only way we would see him. In time, things got better and we had money.
“If you’ve never been poor, you might think poverty is just being hungry but that’s just a tiny part of it. My mental health took a battering and it’s a downward spiral that is now a lifelong fight to keep my head above water. The long-term health effects mean I am on a bunch of pills just to function.”
Fast forward 20 years and I had a second go at poverty. I left an abusive relationship with very little and once again, I was hungry. I had to build everything from the ground up. Add stress to very little food and the result was that my hair fell out. Cuts and blisters didn’t heal. My skin hurt, flaked off and was red raw. Worst of all, my brain didn’t work. I couldn't make decisions and I was slower than normal. Brains work on calories and eating porridge twice a day isn’t enough.
Just because something is over, doesn’t mean it is finished. I’ll give you a couple of examples.
I have a pantry. A big ol’ cupboard rammed with food. And it is rammed. I can feed my family for about 2 months without replenishing if I had to. We wouldn't have the most nutritious meals but we wouldn’t be hungry.
For years, I couldn’t run out of anything. That pantry had to be constantly stocked. If I did run out, it would stay in my head until I had replenished what was missing. I would often drop everything and go to the shop to get more, even if it was something we didn’t use very much. Some odd spice we use once a month? Can’t run out. Going on holiday? Everything needs to be ready for when we are back and I spend the last 3 days of the holiday planning how to get fresh produce before we step in the door.
“As we go through the clusterfuck that is the cost of living crisis, look around you. You’ll have to look really hard to see someone who is in poverty. Poverty comes with shame and people will hide it at all costs.”
I get sick and hungry mixed up. They feel the same to me, even now. Recently, I spent 3 days thinking I had some stomach flu. I got sicker and sicker. Then I realised I had originally skipped a meal. I wasn’t ill, I was hungry.
If you’ve never been poor, you might think poverty is just being hungry but that’s just a tiny part of it. My mental health took a battering and it’s a downward spiral that is now a lifelong fight to keep my head above water. The long-term health effects mean I am on a bunch of pills just to function. I don’t have many memories and I can’t remember much without endless lists and notes.
I’m unwell regularly but I can’t sit still. Dad’s work ethic means I keep going regardless. No work, no food. Can’t stop.
You might wonder how we got to Tesco’s car park at the beginning of the story. It started on a previous journey in the car with my child.
We’re in the car driving in silence.
“Mum, what’s wrong?”
“Sorry honey, my anxiety is through the roof, no idea why.”
“It’s the cost of living crisis, innit? Your survival instinct has kicked in again.”
My kid is so clever.
The trauma of poverty – and it is trauma – stays with you as a family and as an individual. Then – despite trying as hard as you can – you take it to your own children.
As we go through the current clusterfuck that is the cost of living crisis, I’d invite you to look around you. You’ll have to look really hard to see someone who is in poverty. Poverty comes with shame and people will hide it at all costs. They might be hungry but they might be cold or not taking their medication or withdrawing from the world too. Poverty takes so many guises. It’s subtle. It’s a shadow that takes hold of you from the inside out.
And once it has you, it never lets go.
This is the first one!
Published tomorrow!