(PERSONAL BLOG)

I haven’t been blogging the past few days (writing, but not publishing) because the utter depravity of the food stamp fight was more than I could bear.  I was truly wondering whether to stop publishing….

Being poor doesn’t usually bother me to the point where I don’t want to blog–but this hit a little too close to home.  I resent being characterized as a no-good bum by people who are no good bums who get free haircuts, free parking, and coffee and complain because someone asks for food on the table….

More here.

And here.

Being poor has taught me so much,  which I know was the intent.  I have let go of the chains of thinking that my self-worth was wrapped up in what clothing I wore, the kind of car I drove, the house I had, or how much money I made.   Those, I discovered, were empty “calories” for want of a better word…that led to an emptiness of life.  Friends who like you because of your status will desert you when that status is lowered.   This was the second time I had gone through it (my first after my parents’ divorce).

It hit me the other day how badly I was treated after my parents’ divorce and the subsequent poverty I found myself in.  It hit me about the kids in school who may not have known their self-worth because they had not obtained the same status that I had previous to the poverty.  Before the divorce, I had people exclaim with delight, “Oh, you’re [popular doctor’s] daughter!”  After the divorce, these same people would treat me coldly.  Had I not known my previous life of self-worth (even if it was false)…had I not known that their treatment of me had nothing to do with me as a human being, but everything to do with my financial and social status….I perhaps would have felt as I imagine people who are poor their entire childhood (and perhaps life) feel when they don’t realize that they are not dirt because some idiot treats them that way–rather the person who treats them like dirt is the one with the problem.  And I’m not in any way trying to diminish how being treated that way affects one, as my opening statement attests to, but you can feel bad for awhile, but then get your second wind, hold your head up, and take a step forward.

It’s a hard lesson to learn–took me until my forties to realize all of that.  I let others define who I was and what worth I had.  Nobody gets to define who I am, what I am about, or what my soul’s worth is……which is really what you’re left when all the material things are stripped away…